Page 23 of Duke of Myste (Braving the Elements #3)

“You must tell me who arranged those magnificent flower displays,” Jane continued, gesturing toward the elaborate arrangements that adorned the entrance hall.

“I’ve been seeking inspiration for Myste House, and these are precisely the sort of dramatic yet tasteful compositions I’ve been envisioning. ”

As Lady Chatworth launched into an animated description of her florist’s rare talents, Richard caught Jane’s eye briefly.

The subtle gleam of triumph there told him that she was well aware of how effectively she had captured their hostess’s favor.

He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment of her skill, earning a fleeting smile that warmed her eyes momentarily before her attention returned to their hostess.

After appropriate expressions of interest and promises to call on Lady Chatworth for further consultations regarding decorations, they moved into the ballroom.

The vast space glittered with the collective wealth and status of London’s elite, ladies in jewel-toned gowns and gentlemen in somber black creating a constantly shifting kaleidoscope of color and light.

“Jane!” A delighted voice rose above the din. “Oh, Jane, over here!”

Richard turned to see Diana waving enthusiastically from the edge of the dance floor, her usually reserved demeanor temporarily overcome by excitement at the sight of her twin. Beside her stood their sister Lydia, her arm linked with her husband’s.

“Go,” Richard urged, noting the instinctive step Jane took. “I shall find you shortly.”

Gratitude flashed briefly in her eyes before she walked away, moving gracefully through the crowd toward her family, her emerald-green gown easily identifiable among the sea of pastels favored by most of the ladies present.

Richard eyed her progress for a moment before turning his attention to locating familiar faces. He spotted Elias Blacknight near one of the refreshment tables, engaged in conversation with Nicholas Grant, the Marquess of Stone.

Both men smiled in greeting as he approached, their expressions suggesting genuine pleasure rather than mere ceremony.

“The prodigal husband returns to Society,” Nicholas declared with characteristic irreverence. “And how fares domestic life, Your Grace? Has the formidable Jane Brandon been successfully tamed to ducal standards?”

Richard accepted a glass of champagne from a passing footman, using the moment to consider his response. “The Duchess has adapted admirably to her new position,” he said, his tone neutral. “Though I suspect ‘taming’ is neither possible nor, upon reflection, particularly desirable.”

Elias’s eyebrows rose slightly at this unexpectedly diplomatic answer. “High praise, indeed, coming from the most exacting duke in England. Your new wife must be performing extraordinarily.”

“She is… unexpected,” Richard admitted, his gaze drifting across the room to where Jane stood with her sisters, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke.

Even from a distance, he could see the transformation in her countenance—the formal mask of the Duchess temporarily set aside in the comfort of familiar company, revealing the vivacity that lay beneath.

“Unexpected can be rather refreshing,” Nicholas observed, following Richard’s gaze with undisguised interest. “Particularly for those of us condemned to predictable perfection in all things.”

The gentle mockery in his tone drew Richard’s attention back to the conversation. “You make contentment sound like a prison sentence, Stone,” he remarked dryly.

“Not contentment,” Nicholas corrected, his expression surprisingly serious beneath its usual veneer of amusement. “Order without passion. Precision without purpose. Surely, even you must occasionally yearn for something more… vital than perfect propriety?”

Before Richard could formulate a suitable response to this uncomfortably perceptive observation, Elias intervened with the smooth diplomacy that characterized his interactions in Society.

“Speaking of vitality, I must say that Lady Chatworth has outdone herself this year. The orchestra is exceptionally fine, and I hear that the supper to be served at midnight includes delicacies imported directly from Paris.”

Nicholas seized upon this change of subject with theatrical enthusiasm, launching into an elaborate theory about their hostess’s suspected rivalry with the Countess of Harrington.

His impression of the Countess’s reaction to being outshone was so outrageously accurate that Richard found himself laughing aloud—a genuine, unguarded sound of amusement that he rarely permitted himself in private settings, never mind public ones.

Across the room, the unexpected sound drew Jane’s attention from her sister’s animated conversation. She glanced up to find Richard transformed by laughter, the usual severe lines of his face softened into an expression of genuine mirth.

The sight was so startling, so utterly at odds with the rigid control he typically maintained, that she found herself momentarily transfixed.

“Jane? Are you even listening?” Diana’s voice broke through her distraction. “I was telling you about Lord Hartley’s botanical collection.”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, of course,” Jane replied, forcing her attention back to her sisters. “Something about a rare orchid?”

Lydia glanced across the room, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “It seems our Jane finds her husband more captivating than she thought,” she observed to Diana with sisterly mischief.

Jane felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Don’t be absurd. I was merely surprised to see His Grace showing human emotion. I had begun to think him incapable of anything beyond disapproval and rigorous propriety.”

“Oh?” Diana’s eyebrows rose with delicate skepticism. “And is that disapproval in your eyes as you watch him, or something rather more… interested?”

“Diana!” Jane exclaimed, genuinely shocked by her usually demure twin’s teasing. “You are positively impertinent.”

Diana laughed, the sound drawing smiles from those nearby who were unaccustomed to seeing the quieter Brandon twin in such high spirits.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I simply recognize certain expressions, having seen them clearly on Lydia’s face whenever she looks at Elias, and Marian’s face whenever Nicholas enters a room. ”

“Speaking of whom,” Lydia interjected smoothly, “it appears your husband and his friends are approaching. Compose yourselves, ladies.”

Jane turned to find Richard indeed making his way toward them, accompanied by Elias and Nicholas.

His expression had returned to its usual controlled neutrality, yet something in his bearing seemed different—a subtle relaxation of the rigid posture he typically maintained, as if some invisible weight had temporarily lifted off his shoulders.

“Duchess,” he greeted as he reached them, bowing to Jane before acknowledging her sisters with similar formality. “I trust you are enjoying the festivities?”

“Indeed, Your Grace,” Jane replied, matching his formality, though she could not entirely ignore the memory of his unguarded laughter mere moments ago. “My sisters were just sharing news from home.”

“Nothing scandalous, I assure you, Your Grace,” Lydia added with a sweet smile. “Merely the usual domestic dramas—Mama’s rearrangement of the household, Papa’s strategic retreats to his study, and Diana’s growing collection of botanical admirers.”

“Botanical admirers?” Nicholas echoed, his interest piqued. “This sounds far more intriguing than the usual gossip.”

Diana blushed becomingly. “Merely gentlemen who share my interest in gardening, Lord Stone. Nothing as dramatic as Lydia implies.”

“The first waltz is about to begin,” Elias noted as the orchestra finished tuning their instruments. “Shall we claim our partners before the floor becomes impossibly crowded?”

Richard turned to Jane, his manner stiffly polite.. “Duchess, may I have the honor?”

The question was purely ceremonial—as husband and wife, their dance together was expected, rather than requested—yet something in the way he extended his hand made it feel like a genuine invitation rather than a social obligation.

Jane placed her gloved fingers in his palm, allowing him to lead her toward the center of the ballroom, where couples were already gathering.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Richard remarked as they took their positions, his hand settling on her waist with careful propriety. “Your sisters appear well.”

“They are,” Jane confirmed, conscious of the warmth of his palm against the small of her back even through multiple layers of fabric and stays. “Diana seems to be blossoming particularly. Having our mother’s undivided attention has apparently been beneficial rather than oppressive.”

The orchestra struck the opening notes of the waltz, and they began to move together with unexpected harmony. Richard led with confidence, his steps neither too bold nor too hesitant as they navigated the rapidly filling dance floor.

“You dance well,” Jane praised, surprised by the ease with which they moved together. “Another skill meticulously perfected, Your Grace?”

A faint smile tugged at Richard’s lips. “Dancing, unlike other accomplishments, has always come naturally to me. I find the mathematical precision of the steps… satisfying.”

“Only you would approach dancing as a mathematical exercise,” Jane snorted, though there was no real criticism in her tone. “Every movement calculated for maximum efficiency and proper form, no doubt.”

“Is that how you truly see me?” Richard asked, genuinely curious. “As nothing more than a collection of carefully calculated behaviors?”

The question caught Jane off guard, both with its directness and the vulnerability it betrayed. Their steps faltered momentarily before Richard smoothly corrected their course.

“I…” She hesitated, suddenly aware of the many eyes on them as they performed this most public of marital displays. “I hardly know you well enough to make a complete assessment, Your Grace.”