Page 81 of Duke of Myste
Richard leaned forward carefully, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Rest now, my darling. You are healing beautifully, but you still need time and quiet to recover fully.”
“Will you rest too?” Jane asked, her eyes already growing heavy despite her determination to stay awake.
“I will,” Richard vowed. “Harriet has threatened to enlist Mrs. Winters’ help in forcing me to use my bed if I don’t start taking better care of myself.”
“Good,” Jane murmured, her hand still clasped in his. “I need you healthy and strong. We have an entire lifetime ahead of us, and I intend to enjoy every moment of it.
As sleep claimed her once again, her last conscious thought was of gratitude—for her recovery, for Richard’s love, and for the vast future that stretched ahead of them, bright with possibility and built on the foundation of a love that had proven itself strong enough to weather any storm.
Two Weeks Later
“Lady Harriet, the children are asking if you’ll read them another story,” Mrs. Cooper said with a warm smile as she approached Harriet in the main hall of the Thornton Foundling Hospital. “Young Timothy insists that no one tells tales of adventure quite like you do.”
Harriet looked up from the ledger she had been reviewing—carefully cataloged donations and expenditures that would help Lady Thornton determine how best to expand their educational programs—and felt the familiar flutter of satisfaction that had become so precious to her over these past weeks.
“Timothy has excellent taste in literature,” she replied with mock seriousness, closing the ledger and rising from her chair. “Though I suspect he is far more interested in postponing his arithmetic lessons than in my storytelling abilities.”
“Perhaps,” Mrs. Cooper agreed with a conspiratorial whisper. “But the other children genuinely look forward to your visits. You have a gift for making even the most reluctant readers excited about books.”
As they walked toward the children’s common room, Harriet reflected on how much her life had changed since Jane’s accident had reminded her of what truly mattered. The work here at the Foundling Hospital had given her something she hadn’t realized she’d been missing—a sense of purpose that went beyond mere social obligation.
“Good afternoon, my dear scholars,” she greeted, lowering herself into the chair that had become designated as hers duringstory time. “Now, where did we leave off in our tale of the brave princess who refused to be rescued?”
“She was about to face the dragon!” exclaimed Timothy, a gap-toothed boy of eight whose enthusiasm for adventure stories rivaled her own.
“Ah, yes, the dragon,” Harriet mused, letting her gaze travel over their eager faces. “But remember, this princess had learned something very important about dragons—that sometimes, the most fearsome-looking creatures are simply lonely and misunderstood.”
As she continued the story, weaving themes of courage, kindness, and the importance of looking beyond appearances, she found herself thinking of her own transformation. Like the princess in her tale, she had discovered that what seemed like a limitation—her ruined reputation, her spinster status—had actually been a form of freedom.
Here, surrounded by children who cared nothing for her scandal or social standing, she could be entirely herself. Her unconventional experiences, her independence, her refusal to adhere to Society’s expectations—all of these things that had once seemed like failures had become assets in this environment.
When the story concluded and the children reluctantly dispersed to their various lessons and duties, Lady Thornton approached with an expression of obvious satisfaction.
“Lady Harriet, I cannot tell you how grateful I am for your assistance these past weeks,” she said warmly. “Your organizational skills have been invaluable, and the children adore you. I hope you will consider making this a permanent arrangement.”
“I would be delighted,” Harriet replied without hesitation. “This work has given me more satisfaction than any number of social engagements ever could.”
As she gathered her things to return to Myste House, she reflected on the irony of her situation. Society had declared her ruined, unmarriageable, essentially useless by conventional standards. Yet here she had found meaningful work, genuine affection, and a sense of contribution that the married ladies of her acquaintance seemed to lack.
Perhaps being ruined wasn’t the tragedy she had once believed it to be. Perhaps it was simply another word for being free.
EPILOGUE
“You do realize that half of London is staring at us,” Richard murmured into Jane’s ear as they stood at the edge of their magnificently decorated ballroom, watching the cream of Society swirl around the polished marble floor.
Jane tilted her head slightly, her gloved hand resting on his arm with possessive familiarity. “Let them stare, my love. After all the gossip we’ve provided them over the past months, I should think they would be grateful for such an excellent vantage point.”
“Grateful?” Richard’s voice carried that particular note of dry amusement she had come to adore. “Has my darling wife developed a taste for scandal?”
“Hardly,” Jane replied with the sort of innocent expression that never failed to make him suspicious. “Though I confess I did suggest to Lady Ashford that you might be persuaded to waltz twice in one evening. She nearly swooned!”
“Jane,” Richard said, his tone carrying gentle reproach, “you are deliberately tormenting the poor woman.”
“Only a little,” she admitted with unrepentant cheerfulness. “Besides, you agreed to this ball readily. I was quite surprised when I didn’t even need to make it a weekly demand.”
Their banter was interrupted by the approach of Lydia and Elias, both radiating the contentment of a couple who had long since settled into the rhythm of married bliss.
“Sister!” Lydia exclaimed, embracing Jane warmly. “This ball is absolutely magnificent. I do believe half of London is in attendance tonight.”
