Page 28 of Duke of Myste (Braving the Elements #3)
“ I still cannot believe that Richard named him Pippin,” Harriet declared with delighted astonishment, bending to scratch behind the black and white spaniel’s ears as they made their way through the frost-touched gardens of the Derbyshire estate, enjoying the mild warmth of the spring afternoon.
“In all my years, I never imagined my utterly proper brother would choose a name so… whimsical. You must have worked some sort of magic on him.”
Jane laughed, pulling her pelisse more tightly around her shoulders as she watched the small spaniel bound through patches of emerging lavender with puppyish enthusiasm. “I was rather surprised myself. Though I suspect Pippin suits him perfectly—he does seem to have a rather cheerful disposition.”
“Richard’s household could indeed benefit from a dash of chaos,” Harriet replied with characteristic directness, linking her arm with Jane’s as they continued along the gravel path.
“He’s been far too serious for far too long, that man.
And the fact that he agreed to keep the puppy, never mind choosing ‘Pippin’ of all names…
well, it gives me hope that somewhere beneath all of that ducal propriety, a bit of the boy I remember still exists. ”
The spring garden around them was beginning to show signs of new life, Jane thought as they walked. Fresh green buds dotted the branches, while well-maintained hedges provided structure to beds where early flowers were starting to bloom. It was orderly, yet natural, rather like Richard himself.
“Tell me,” she said carefully, watching Pippin investigate a particularly interesting scent near an ancient sundial, “what was your brother like? As a child?”
Harriet’s expression grew thoughtful, her gaze drifting toward the windows of the study, where Richard had sequestered himself after breakfast. “He was… quite different. He could light up any room with his cheerful disposition even before entering it. But life had taken that all away from him.” She shrugged.
“I suppose he learned that control was the only reliable defense against great loss.”
The observation settled heavily in Jane’s chest, adding another piece to the puzzle that was her enigmatic husband. “And he’s maintained that control ever since?”
“Without exception,” Harriet confirmed, then shot her a sideways glance filled with mischief. “Until yesterday, that is. I’ve never seen him quite so… unsettled as he was after your dancing lesson. Whatever happened, it certainly left an impression.”
Heat flooded Jane’s cheeks at the memory of that charged moment in the ballroom, the way Richard’s eyes had darkened with something that in her wildest imagination might have been considered desire. But it had disappeared too quickly, shattered by Harriet’s arrival.
“Nothing happened,” she said quickly, judging by Harriet’s knowing smile.
“Of course not,” Harriet agreed with patent insincerity. “Though I must say, for nothing happening, it certainly has my brother acting like he has seen a ghost. He’s been avoiding you quite assiduously since breakfast.”
Jane had noticed Richard’s sudden reversion to formal distance. It was impossible not to—he’d practically fled the dining room after ensuring she had everything she needed for the day. After weeks of gradual warming between them, his retreat felt like a physical blow.
“Perhaps he simply has to attend to estate matters,” she offered.
“Perhaps,” Harriet said diplomatically, though her tone suggested she believed nothing of the sort. “Or perhaps my dear brother has discovered that some things cannot be controlled through sheer force of will, and the realization terrifies him.”
They completed their circuit of the garden in comfortable silence, Pippin trotting between them with the satisfied air of a dog who had thoroughly investigated his new domain.
As they approached the house, Jane found herself glancing toward the windows of Richard’s study, wondering what thoughts occupied his mind in his self-imposed isolation.
“Come,” Harriet urged, following her gaze, “let’s see if we can tempt the hermit out of his cave. I have it on good authority that the shops at the village have received some lovely new fabrics from London, and you simply must see them before the spring rains begin in earnest and traps us indoors.”
The prospect of an outing proved irresistible, and within the hour, they found themselves seated in the carriage, bowling through the countryside toward the village that served the estate.
Pippin had been left in the capable hands of Mrs. Crawford, the housekeeper who tended to the Derbyshire estate, had declared him a “dear little soul” despite her initial protests about animals in the kitchen.
“Richard declined to join us, I suppose?” Jane asked as they settled in their seats, though she already knew the answer from Harriet’s expression.
“He claimed ‘urgent correspondence requiring his immediate attention,’” Harriet replied with a roll of her eyes. “Though I suspect this ‘urgent’ correspondence consists primarily of finding reasons to avoid spending time alone with his wife.”
Little Myste proved to be the sort of picturesque English village that graced romantic paintings—stone cottages with thatched roofs, a Norman church with an ancient bell tower, and shops clustered around a small square where a market cross had stood since medieval times.
Despite the chilly weather, the streets showed signs of prosperity that spoke well of Richard’s stewardship of his lands.
As their carriage wound through the streets, Jane noticed more signs of Richard’s careful stewardship than she had initially realized.
The cottages, while modest, showed evidence of recent repairs—new thatch on several roofs, freshly painted shutters, and well-maintained gardens despite the cold season.
The prosperity Harriet had mentioned was evident not just in the shops but in the general air of contentment that seemed to pervade the community.
“Richard has done well by them,” she observed, following Jane’s gaze to where several children played in a small common area, their clothes clean and their laughter loud despite the cold.
“When he inherited the dukedom, the village was in quite a different state. Father was not… well, he was not particularly concerned with the welfare of his tenants.”
“What changed?” Jane asked, curious about this aspect of her husband’s character.
“Richard did.” Harriet’s voice carried a note of pride that she rarely allowed herself.
“One of his very first acts as Duke was to tour every cottage, every farm, speaking with each family about their needs and concerns. He set up a fund for improvements, ensured that every child went to school, and personally negotiated with suppliers to keep the cost of necessities reasonable.”
Jane felt a warmth spread through her chest at this revelation. It painted a picture that was completely different from the stern, control-focused man she had married. It showed someone who used his position and resources to genuinely improve the lives of those under his care.
“He never mentioned any of this to me,” she said softly.
“He wouldn’t,” Harriet replied with a slight smile.
“Richard considers such things his duty, not worthy of particular praise. But the people here remember what life was like before, and they remember who changed it. That’s why they’ll accept you so readily, Jane.
Not just because you’re his Duchess, but because they trust his judgment.
If Richard chose you, then they will conclude you are someone worth choosing. ”
The weight of that trust settled over Jane like a blanket. These people had faith in Richard’s decision, which meant they had faith in her, even before she had proven herself worthy of it.
It was both humbling and inspiring, adding another layer to her understanding of what it truly meant to be the Duchess of Myste.
“Your Grace!” The owner of the draper’s shop bobbed an enthusiastic curtsy as they entered, her round face bright with delight. “What an honor to have you visit our humble establishment. And Lady Harriet! How lovely to see you again.”
“Mrs. Pemberton,” Harriet greeted warmly. “I’ve brought Her Grace to see those fabrics you mentioned.”
The next hour passed in a delightful blur of silks and muslins, laces and ribbons displayed with the pride of a merchant who knew her trade.
Jane found herself genuinely enjoying the selection process, Harriet’s enthusiastic commentary, and Mrs. Pemberton’s obvious pleasure in serving the local nobility.
“This blue would be magnificent on you,” Harriet declared, holding a bolt of sapphire silk to Jane’s cheek. “It brings out the color of your eyes wonderfully. You simply must have it made up for the Christmas assembly.”
“Christmas assembly?” Jane echoed, accepting Mrs. Pemberton’s expert assessment of how much fabric would be required.
“Oh, yes,” Harriet said with barely contained excitement. “It’s a tradition at Myste House. Richard hosts the local gentry every Christmas Eve—he has done it since he inherited the title. Quite the social event for our little corner of Derbyshire.”
The idea of hosting her first event as the Duchess of Myste sent a flutter of nervous anticipation through Jane. “I have not realized… That is, Richard has not mentioned…”
“Because he’s been too busy hiding in his study like a wounded bear,” Harriet snorted. “But don’t worry—I shall help you plan everything. It will be a wonderful practice for your new duties, and Richard cannot possibly avoid you when you’re the hostess of his own party.”
As they completed their purchases and prepared to return to the house, Jane reflected on the easy camaraderie that had developed between her and her sister-in-law. Harriet’s warm acceptance and genuine friendship felt like a gift—a bright spot in the complex landscape of her new life.