Page 2 of Duke of Myste (Braving the Elements #3)

“ D iana? Diana, where on earth have you disappeared to?”

Jane Brandon’s voice carried through the crowded ballroom, though it did little to penetrate the wall of silk-clad bodies and the orchestra’s enthusiastic rendition of a country dance. Her deep brown eyes darted from one masked face to another, searching for the familiar silhouette of her twin.

The masquerade ball at Lord and Lady Thornton’s was in full swing, with couples twirling across the polished floor and laughter spilling from every corner. Yet Jane’s stomach had begun to twist with inexplicable apprehension.

“Have you found her yet, dear?” Lady Drownshire materialized at Jane’s elbow, her mask—an elaborate confection of peacock feathers and silver thread—not quite concealing her mounting concern.

“It’s nearly midnight, and you know how shy Diana becomes in these situations.

I do hope she hasn’t hidden herself away in the library again. ”

“I’ve checked the library, the ladies’ retiring room, and even sent a maid to peek into the garden,” Jane replied, absently adjusting her own mask of midnight blue velvet, adorned by tiny crystal stars. “It’s not like her to wander off without a word, especially at an event of this magnitude.”

The Thorntons’ masquerade ball was indeed the event of the Season, with invitations coveted by even the highest-ranking members of the ton.

The ballroom had been transformed into a celestial dreamscape, with silver and gold streamers cascading from the ceiling like metallic rain and hundreds of candles casting a warm glow on the revelers below.

Under different circumstances, Jane might have appreciated the spectacle, but her sister’s absence had cast a shadow over the evening’s glamour.

“Perhaps she’s simply engaged in conversation somewhere quiet,” Lady Drownshire suggested, though her voice lacked conviction. “You know how Diana detests these crowded affairs.”

Jane was about to respond when a ripple of hushed whispers caught her attention.

The subtle shift in the atmosphere was almost palpable, like the electric tension before a summer storm.

Several guests near the far entrance had abandoned their dancing in favor of urgent, furtive conversations, their heads bent close together as they exchanged what could only be the latest gossip.

“Something’s happened,” Jane murmured, her instincts sharpening. “Excuse me, Mama.”

Before Lady Drownshire could object, Jane was moving through the crowd with practiced grace, navigating between dancers and onlookers alike. The whispers grew louder as she approached.

“… found them alone together…”

“… in Lord Thornton’s study of all places…”

“… her mask concealed her identity, but his was unmistakable…”

Jane’s blood turned to ice in her veins. A scandal. Someone had been caught in a compromising position, and based on the feverish exchange of gossip, it involved a person of considerable standing.

Her pace quickened, her blue silk skirts swishing around her ankles as she followed the invisible trail of scandal toward its source. She emerged from the main ballroom into a corridor where a small crowd had gathered outside a closed door.

Lord Thornton himself stood guard, his normally jovial features set in grim lines as he attempted to disperse the curious onlookers. Behind him, the door opened briefly, allowing Jane a glimpse of a feminine figure with slumped shoulders being escorted by Lady Thornton.

A figure whose pale pink gown and delicate silver mask were instantly, horrifyingly familiar.

Diana.

Jane’s heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach. Time seemed to slow down as her sister stepped out the door, her head bowed in distress, tears glistening on her cheeks beneath her mask.

Lady Thornton’s expression was one of controlled sympathy—the kind reserved for situations where a catastrophe must be managed with the utmost discretion.

“Please return to the ballroom,” Lord Thornton was saying, his voice strained yet authoritative. “The matter is being addressed appropriately.”

But Jane was already moving forward, weaving through the whispering guests until she reached her sister’s side.

“Diana,” she breathed, taking her twin’s trembling hand. “What’s happened? Are you all right?”

Diana’s tearful gaze met Jane’s, terror and confusion evident behind her mask. “Jane,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t understand… We were just talking about plants… I didn’t realize?—”

Lady Thornton cleared her throat delicately. “Perhaps this conversation would be better had somewhere private,” she suggested, casting a meaningful glance toward the still-whispering onlookers. “The blue drawing room is unoccupied at present.”

Jane nodded sharply, wrapping a protective arm around Diana’s waist as they followed their hostess down the corridor.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of another figure emerging from the study—tall, imposing, and unmistakably male, his dark attire a stark contrast to the colorful plumage of the other guests.

Though his face was partially concealed by a simple navy blue mask, something about his rigid posture struck a chord of recognition in Jane’s memory.

The blue drawing room did indeed offer a welcome respite from the circus-like atmosphere of the corridor. Lady Thornton closed the door firmly behind them, ensuring their privacy before turning to face the sisters with an expression of carefully measured concern.

“I understand that this is a delicate situation,” she began, her voice soft but steady as she clasped her hands just below her bust. “However, certain proprieties must be observed, even in the most… unexpected circumstances.”

Jane’s protective instincts flared. “Lady Thornton, I’m afraid I don’t yet understand what precisely has occurred. My sister seems distressed, but I cannot imagine she has done anything to warrant such consternation.”

Lady Thornton’s gaze softened slightly. “Of course you would defend her, dear girl. Loyalty is an admirable trait. However, the fact remains that your sister was discovered alone with a gentleman of high standing, in the study of their host—a room that had been deliberately closed to guests for the evening.”

The Duke of Myste.

Jane’s mind raced to place the identity of this mysterious man, her confusion only deepening.

Diana shook her head, fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks.

“It wasn’t like that,” she insisted, her voice gaining strength despite her distress.

“We were discussing the propagation of rare alpine botanicals. His Grace mentioned acquiring specimens from the Continent, and I merely expressed my interest. I never intended?—”

“Intentions matter little in such situations, my dear,” Lady Thornton interrupted, though not unkindly. “Perception is reality in the eyes of the ton. And their perception, I’m afraid, is quite clear.”

Jane’s mind was working rapidly, assessing the situation with tactical precision.

The grandfather clock in the corner showed eleven-forty-five—merely fifteen minutes until midnight, when tradition dictated that all masks would be removed.

Once Diana’s identity was revealed, her reputation would be irrevocably tarnished.

No amount of botanical explanation—however logical it might be—would erase the scandal of being found alone with a man in a closed room.

“May I have a moment alone with my sister?” Jane asked, meeting Lady Thornton’s gaze steadily. “Just a moment to help her compose herself before the grand reveal.”

Lady Thornton hesitated, then nodded. “Five minutes,” she conceded, moving toward the door. “No more. I’ll be just outside.”

As soon as the door closed behind their hostess, Jane turned to Diana, clasping her hands firmly. “Listen to me carefully,” she began, her voice low and urgent. “We haven’t got much time.”

“Jane, I swear, I didn’t?—”

“I believe you,” Jane cut in, giving her hands a reassuring squeeze. “But that hardly matters now. Once your identity is revealed at midnight, you’ll be at the heart of a scandal that no amount of explaining can undo.”

Diana’s face paled beneath her mask. “What am I to do? Papa will be furious, and Mama…” Her voice broke on a sob.

Jane took a deep breath, a plan already forming with crystalline clarity in her mind. “Take off your dress,” she instructed, her tone brooking no argument as she began working at the fastenings of her gown.

“What?” Diana stared at her in shock. “Have you lost your senses?”

“Quite the opposite,” Jane replied, determination hardening her features. “I’m thinking with perfect clarity. We’re going to switch places.”

Understanding dawned slowly in Diana’s eyes, followed swiftly by horror. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head vehemently. “I cannot let you do that. It is my mistake, my scandal to?—”

“A scandal that will utterly destroy you,” Jane countered, already stepping out of her blue gown. “You are far too gentle for this kind of notoriety, Diana. Your heart is too soft. You would wither under Society’s condemnation.”

“And you would not?” Diana’s voice cracked with emotion.

Jane managed a small, wry smile. “I am made of sterner stuff. Besides, I’ve never quite fit the mold of a proper Society miss, have I? This would merely confirm what half the ton already thinks of me.”

“But your future?—”

“Is my own to determine,” Jane interrupted firmly. “Now, quickly! We don’t have much time.”

Reluctantly, Diana began unfastening her pink gown while Jane moved behind a screen to remove her own. The sisters had played this game before as children, confusing governesses and dancing masters alike with their identical features.

But never with such devastating stakes .

“The masks!” Jane called softly, emerging from behind the screen in her chemise. “We must exchange those, too.”

Diana’s hands trembled as she removed her silver mask and passed it to Jane. “I cannot bear that you are sacrificing yourself for my foolishness,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face.

Jane paused in the middle of their hurried exchange, cupping her sister’s face in her hands. “Listen to me,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “This is not a sacrifice. This is a choice—my choice. And I would make it a thousand times over, rather than see you suffer what is to come.”

The genuine emotion in her voice seemed to reach Diana, who nodded once before slipping on Jane’s star-studded blue mask.

The transformation was remarkable. With Jane’s more vibrant gown and distinctive mask, Diana could easily pass as her more outspoken sister, at least until the grand reveal.

As the twins completed their switch, Jane’s mind turned to the other party in this unexpected scandal.

Richard Riverstone, the Duke of Myste.

Stone-faced, proper, judgmental Richard Riverstone, who had lectured her about appropriate behavior at Marian’s wedding, just as she was starting to like him.

The irony of her current situation was not lost on her. To think that she would now be linked to him by scandal—it was almost too absurd to contemplate.

A sharp knock at the door signaled the end of the allotted time.

“Are you composed, my dears?” Lady Thornton’s voice called through the wood. “It is nearly midnight.”

Jane smoothed her hands over the unfamiliar pink silk of Diana’s gown, adjusted the silver mask one final time, and took a deep, steadying breath. “Remember,” she whispered to her sister, “head high, shoulders back. You are a Brandon.”

Diana nodded, the blue mask concealing her still-tearful eyes. “Jane,” she mumbled, reaching for her sister’s hand. “Thank you.”

Jane squeezed her fingers briefly before releasing them. “For what?” she replied with forced lightness. “I’ve merely borrowed your gown for the evening.”

Lady Thornton re-entered, her gaze darting between the sisters with momentary confusion before settling on Jane. “Come, my dear,” she said, extending a hand toward them. “Your parents have been informed of the… situation. It is best to face these things directly, I’m afraid.”

Jane nodded, assuming a posture of quiet dignity.

As they left the blue drawing room, she cast one final glance over her shoulder at her twin, silently praying that Diana would manage to keep up the charade until they could depart.

The return to the ballroom felt like a procession to the gallows.

Whispers followed them, curious eyes peering from behind masks of all descriptions to catch a glimpse of the evening’s unexpected scandal.

Jane kept her gaze fixed ahead, her chin lifted in a show of composure that belied the rapid beating of her heart.

The grand clock at the end of the ballroom began to toll the midnight hour, its deep, resonant chimes counting down the seconds to the grand reveal. On the twelfth chime, guests all over the room reached up to remove their disguises, revealing flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

Jane’s fingers moved to the silver mask, unpinning it with deliberate care. Around her, a ripple of gasps and murmurs rose in the air as people recognized her face.

But it was not the reaction of the assembled guests that captured her attention.

It was the tall figure standing opposite her, removing his simple black mask to reveal features set in lines of austere handsomeness.

Dark hair, perhaps just slightly too long, and a pair of piercing hazel eyes that widened almost imperceptibly as they met hers.

Richard stared at her with an expression of such profound shock that, under different circumstances, she might have found it amusing.

As recognition dawned in his eyes—the realization that she was not, in fact, the soft-spoken twin he had been discovered with—his expression transformed into something she could not quite interpret.

There was confusion, certainly. Perhaps anger. But beneath those expected reactions lurked something else entirely—something that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

Interest.

The clock’s final chime faded to silence, leaving only the hushed murmurs of the crowd as they took in their identities. Jane Brandon, the outspoken, opinionated sister—not the shy, bookish one—and the Duke of Myste, a paragon of propriety.

What an unexpected pair they made.

And as Jane stood beneath the weight of a hundred curious stares, facing the man whose reputation she had just irrevocably entangled with her own, she realized with startling clarity that her impulsive decision had set something in motion that neither of them would be able to control.

The game had begun, and the Duke’s expression suggested that he was only now realizing they were playing.