Page 16 of Duke of Myste (Braving the Elements #3)

“ I trust you slept well,?” Richard inquired as Jane entered the breakfast room, his tone formal yet carrying a hint of genuine interest.

Jane paused briefly in the doorway, taking in the sight of her new husband already seated at the table, correspondence laid out neatly beside his plate.

The morning light streaming through tall windows illuminated the peaceful yellow walls of the breakfast room, creating an atmosphere that belied the tension she felt.

“Well enough, thank you,” she replied, moving toward the sideboard, where various dishes had been arranged with meticulous care.

She scooped up a modest portion of eggs and toast, conscious of his gaze following her movements.

“You look remarkably composed for someone whose life has changed drastically in such a short amount of time,” Richard observed, setting aside a letter he had been reading.

Jane arranged her skirts with practiced precision. “Composure is often a matter of necessity rather than choice, Your Grace.”

“Richard,” he reminded her gently. “As we agreed.”

“Richard,” she acknowledged, the single word hanging between them like a fragile bridge.

The gentle clink of silverware against china and the distant bustle of the servants were the only sounds that filled the silence between them.

Jane found herself studying her husband’s profile as he returned to his correspondence—the stern line of his jaw, the control evident in his every movement.

“I imagine we should discuss how we are to proceed,” she said finally, setting down her teacup with deliberate care.

Richard nodded, giving her his full attention. “Indeed. This is not how either of us envisioned our futures unfolding, I suspect.”

“You mean to say that not all little girls dream of finding themselves hastily married to men they barely know, for duty rather than affection?” Jane couldn’t keep the irony from her voice.

“A marriage of convenience, indeed,” Richard acknowledged. “Though perhaps not entirely lacking advantages to both parties.”

“Advantages?” Jane raised an eyebrow. “Do elaborate.”

Richard studied her for a moment, his hazel eyes assessing.

“Beyond the obvious benefits of rank and protection that we both understand, you gain considerable access to resources most women can only dream of. Libraries, scholarly connections, the means to pursue your intellectual interests on a scale impossible for a viscount’s daughter. ”

“And you?” Jane asked. “What do you gain from this arrangement?”

Richard considered her question for a moment, his expression guarded.

“A partnership that serves both our interests,” he said carefully.

“You require the protection of my name and position. I require…” he paused, seeming to weigh his words.

“A wife who can navigate society as my duchess and fulfill the expectations that come with the role.”Jane felt the color rise to her cheeks, though whether from anger or embarrassment, she couldn’t be certain.

“How efficiently summarized. A beneficial transaction, neatly packaged in wedding vows and legalities.”

“Is that not precisely what this is?” Richard countered.

“What of the mutual respect you spoke of in the carriage?” Jane asked, remembering his words from the previous day.

A flicker of something—perhaps surprise that she recalled his exact words—crossed Richard’s features.

“Respect remains essential,” he relented. “But it must exist within certain boundaries. For our marriage to function properly, there are expectations that must be met.”

“By me, I presume,” Jane said coolly.

“By us both,” Richard corrected, though with less conviction than she might have hoped.

“And what might these expectations entail?”

Richard straightened slightly, his posture shifting to one of authority.

“You should be diligent in your duties as the Duchess of Myste—overseeing the household, managing our social calendar, and representing our family with appropriate dignity. You should endeavor to pursue suitable activities —charitable endeavors, perhaps, or artistic accomplishments that reflect well on our position. You are not to engage with anything or anyone that could bring scandal upon the house of Myste.”

Jane watched him, her expression carefully neutral despite the growing frustration she felt. “And what of your duties in this arrangement? Beyond providing material advantages, what might I expect from you as a husband?”

The question seemed to catch Richard off guard. He paused, clearly searching for a response that had not been part of his rehearsed speech.

“I will treat you with the consideration befitting your station,” he said finally. “You will want for nothing, and your comfort will be assured in all practical matters.”

“That is what Society expects of a duke, yes,” Jane pointed out quietly. “I asked what I might expect from my husband. There is a difference.”

Richard furrowed his brow. “I’m not certain I understand what more you could possibly need.”

“That,” Jane said, her voice soft but steady, “is precisely the problem. You speak of expectations for me—how I must behave, what activities I should pursue, how I should manage your household. You even mean to enforce boundaries on me that change who I truly am, yet offer nothing of yourself beyond what your title already demands of you. In the carriage, you spoke of mutual respect, yet now it seems your vision of marriage involves only my adaptation to your life, and not an equal partnership.”

Richard’s jaw tightened visibly. “The parameters I’ve outlined are reasonable for a duchess?—”

“For any duchess, perhaps,” Jane interrupted. “But I am Jane Brandon—Riverstone now, I suppose—and I did not agree to surrender my entire identity simply because circumstances forced us together.”

“What would you have me do?” Richard asked, frustration finally breaking through his careful composure. “What would satisfy your expectations in this… arrangement?”

Jane met his gaze directly. “I would have you acknowledge that this marriage requires adjustment from us both . If I am to reshape aspects of my life to accommodate your expectations, what are you willing to change? What concessions are you prepared to make?”

The question hung between them, charged with implications that seemed to fill the sunlit room. Richard’s expression shifted through several emotions—surprise, defensiveness, and, finally, reluctant consideration.

“Perhaps you misunderstand the nature of our arrangement,” he said, his voice growing cold. “This is not a negotiation between equals.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Richard regretted them.

Jane’s expression shifted from anger to something far more dangerous—disappointment, mingled with resolve.

“I understand perfectly, Your Grace,” she countered, her voice steady despite the heightened color in her cheeks. “You wish me to be a convenient ornament to grace your home and carry your heirs, not a wife in any meaningful sense.”

“That is not what I?—”

“It is precisely what you said, merely dressed in more diplomatic language.” Jane stood up abruptly, her chair scraping across the polished floor.

“I agreed to this marriage to protect my family’s reputation and spare my sister the consequences of a scandal not of her intention.

I did not, however, agree to surrender my entire identity or dignity in the process. ”

Richard rose as well, frustration churning beneath his carefully maintained facade. “Jane?—”

“ Duchess ,” she corrected with icy precision as she moved toward the door. “I believe that is my title now, is it not? A title that apparently entitles you to dictate every aspect of my existence. In light of that, I would rather you call me by it in the future, Your Grace .”

The door closed behind her with a soft thud that somehow carried more finality than if she had slammed it.

Richard remained standing, the breakfast before him forgotten as he struggled to identify exactly where the conversation had derailed so spectacularly. He had approached their marriage as he would any other challenge: with logic, clear boundaries, and realistic expectations.

And yet, Jane Brandon—no, Jane Riverstone now—seemed determined to inject emotional considerations into it. Particularly the messy, unpredictable kind.

Everything in his life had its proper place, its defined purpose. The idea of allowing his new wife to disrupt that order was deeply troubling to him. Richard preferred clear boundaries and defined expectations, but Jane seemed to blur every line he drew.

And yet, as he replayed their conversation in his mind, her words echoed back at him with uncomfortable clarity.

“What of the mutual respect you spoke of in the carriage?”

He had indeed promised her that. Had he already failed to uphold his end of the bargain? Was he willing to change himself to accommodate her presence in his life?

Richard paused in the corridor, momentarily uncertain of his direction—an unfamiliar sensation for a man who had plotted his course with such careful precision throughout his life.

Behind him lay the remnants of a conversation that had failed almost comically, and ahead lay a marriage that had begun with all the warmth of a business arrangement, and now threatened to deteriorate into outright antagonism.

Unacceptable.

The word echoed in his mind with the force of conviction. The Duke of Myste did not fail—not in business, not in duty, and certainly not in his household.

He had to make this right.