Page 31 of Duke of Myste (Braving the Elements #3)

“ T he weather is perfect for a walk,” Jane declared, adjusting her bonnet as she emerged from Myste Hall, Harriet and Diana flanking her while Pippin dashed energetically around their feet.

“Your impromptu visit was perfectly timed, Diana. I was hoping for a chance to introduce you to one another.”

“The grounds here are simply magnificent,” Diana commented. “Richard has excellent taste in estate management.”

“Richard has excellent taste in everything,” Harriet corrected. “Unfortunately, he also has a knack for making mountains out of molehills when it suits him.”

Jane’s chest tightened at the mention of her husband. Three days of careful politeness and studied avoidance had left her feeling more isolated than ever.

“How are you, Jane? Truly,” Diana said carefully, glancing between her sister and Harriet with obvious concern. “You seem rather… subdued.”

“I am perfectly well,” Jane replied with forced brightness, though she caught Harriet’s knowing look out of the corner of her eye. “Simply adjusting to married life and all its… complexities.”

“Complexities,” Harriet echoed with a slight smile. “What a diplomatic way to describe my impossible brother’s latest bout of emotional cowardice.”

“Harriet,” Jane warned, though without real heat.

“Oh, please.” Harriet waved off the gentle rebuke with characteristic directness. “Diana is family, and family members should, at the very least, be honest with one another. Richard is being ridiculous, and we all know it.”

Diana’s eyebrows rose, but before she could respond, Pippin suddenly lunged forward. The lead slipped from Harriet’s hand, and the spaniel bounded away across the grass, chasing what appeared to be a rabbit.

“Pippin!” Jane called, gathering her skirts as she hurried after him. “Come back here this instant!”

The spaniel barked joyfully and quickened his pace, clearly viewing this as the most exciting game imaginable.

“This way!” Harriet laughed, lifting her skirts and running after them. “He’s heading for the lake!”

Diana surprised them all by getting ahead of the runaway spaniel, her arms spread wide. “Here, Pippin! Come, boy!”

But Pippin had other ideas. With a playful leap, he launched himself directly into the shallow end of the ornamental lake, sending up a spray of cold water.

“Oh no!” Jane exclaimed.

“We have to get him out,” Diana said, already kicking off her boots. “We can’t let him drown!”

“Diana, you cannot possibly…” Jane began, but Diana was already wading in.

“The water’s not that deep,” Diana called. “Just… cold!” she yelped as a shiver ran through her. “Pippin! Come here!”

Harriet began unlacing her own boots. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it, then. We can hardly let Diana rescue our puppy by herself.”

“This is madness,” Jane protested, even as she followed suit. “We’ll all catch a fever!”

“Probably,” Harriet agreed cheerfully. “But what a story it will make!”

The water was indeed colder than she had imagend. Every time one of them came close to capturing Pippin, he would swim just out of reach, wagging his tail in glee at getting the women to participate in a new game.

“Got you!” Diana cried, only for him to slip through her fingers.

“No, this way!” Harriet called, lunging forward and creating a wave that soaked Jane entirely.

By the time they had finally cornered the mischievous spaniel and hauled him out of the water, all three ladies were soaked through. Their coiffures had dissolved into bedraggled wisps, and their expensive dresses clung to their bodies as their feet squelched.

And yet, Jane realized, she had not laughed so hard in months.

“We look absolutely dreadful,” Diana remarked with unusual cheerfulness, wringing her sodden skirts.

“Spectacularly dreadful,” Harriet agreed with a snort, attempting to restore some order to her dripping curls. “And I do not regret a minute of it. Pippin, you are decidedly a terrible dog, but I love you so much!”

The spaniel wagged his tail with unrepentant enthusiasm, apparently pleased with the adventure he had provided. Water dripped steadily from his glossy black and white coat, but his bright eyes suggested he would gladly repeat the performance, given the opportunity.

As they made their way back to the house, Harriet’s expression grew serious. “You know… I do believe Richard will be absolutely beside himself when he sees us.”

Jane felt some of her good humor evaporate. “He can hardly object too strenuously.”

They might have managed to sneak in undetected, had Pippin not chosen that particular moment to shake himself vigorously, spraying muddy water across the entrance hall just as the butler appeared.

“Ladies,” Mr. Wilson said with admirable composure. “Perhaps it’s better to use the servants’ entrance? Mrs. Crawford has towels by the kitchen fire.”

“Is His Grace?—”

“In his study,” the butler confirmed. “He requested to be informed immediately of your return.”

The study door slammed open, and Richard emerged like an avenging angel, his eyes blazing.

“What,” he asked in an ominous tone, “happened?”

Jane lifted her chin, drawing on reserves of dignity that were somewhat undermined by the fact that her hair was plastered to her head and water was still dripping from the hem of her gown. “Pippin went for an unplanned swim,” she said as calmly as possible. “We had to retrieve him.”

“You retrieved him.” Richard’s voice was dangerously soft. “By wading into a lake in December. All three of you.”

“The water wasn’t that deep, Your Grace,” Diana offered, earning herself a glare that could have frozen hellfire.

“Not that deep,” Richard repeated, his control beginning to fray at the edges. “And that, in your estimation, makes it perfectly acceptable for three ladies of noble birth to risk pneumonia, drowning, or worse… all for the sake of a dog?”

“He’s more than just a dog,” Jane replied sharply, her temper flaring in response to his tone. “He’s our Pippin, and he was frightened, and we were not about to stand by?—”

“Do you have any idea what could have happened? The water is freezing, the bottom is uneven, you could have slipped… hit your head…” Richard stopped, running a hand through his hair in barely contained frustration.

“But we didn’t,” Jane pointed out, her voice rising to match his. “We are all perfectly fine, all four of us, if somewhat soaked. There is no need for this dramatic display of concern.”

“Dramatic display?” Richard’s composure snapped entirely. “You disappear for hours, then return looking like you’ve been shipwrecked, and you call my concern dramatic ?”

“Your concern would have been touching,” Jane shot back, “if it wasn’t so utterly transparent.”

“Transparent?”

“Yes, Your Grace. It is more about your reputation than your well-being. Heaven forbid the Duchess of Myste should be seen in a less-than-perfect state.”

The accusation hit its mark, evident in the way Richard’s face flushed with anger. “My reputation? You truly think this is about my reputation?”

“Isn’t it?” Jane challenged, her own frustration finally boiling over. “Everything else seems to be. Our marriage, our interactions, and even our conversations are all carefully managed to maintain the perfect image. The pattern is rather obvious.”

“You know nothing about?—”

“I know that you cannot bear to be in the same room as me for more than five minutes!” Jane snapped, her control shattering spectacularly as her frustration bubbled to the surface.

“I know that you flee every time we share a moment of genuine connection. That you treat me like a stranger when we’re alone, that you?—”

“Enough!” Richard’s voice cracked like a whip, silencing her mid-sentence.

In the ensuing silence, Jane could hear her rapid breathing, could see Diana and Harriet standing like frozen statues at the edge of a confrontation.

“You do not get to treat us like this,” she continued more quietly, though her voice shook with suppressed emotion.

“We are grown women capable of making our own decisions and deciding which risks are acceptable. And we are, as you can see, certainly capable of rescuing a puppy without your permission or supervision.”

“This is not about permission,” Richard said through gritted teeth. “This is about common sense. About?—”

“About control,” Jane cut him off. “It is all about your need to manage everything and everyone around you, Richard.”

The statement hung in the air like gun smoke, impossible to take back. Jane saw Richard flinch as though she had struck him, saw something vulnerable flash across his features before hardening into marble again.

“I see,” he uttered with deadly quiet. “And what would you have me do, Jane? Abandon all concern for your safety and propriety? Allow chaos to reign simply because you find order confining?”

“I would have you treat me like your wife instead of a particularly troublesome ward,” Jane replied, her voice heavy with exhaustion and disappointment. “But that seems to be beyond your capabilities.”

For a moment, Richard looked as though he might retort, as though he might finally allow the honest conversation they both desperately needed. But then his mask slid into place once more, and Jane knew she had lost him again.

“Very well,” she said quietly, feeling something in her chest crack like ice. “Since my presence seems to cause you such distress, I shall remove it. My weekly demand, Your Grace, is that you stay away from me. Completely. Until further notice.”

Richard’s face paled at her words, but she had already turned away, gathering her sodden skirts as she moved toward the staircase. She could feel Diana and Harriet’s concerned gazes following her, could sense Richard’s stunned stillness behind her, but she did not look back.

She had tried. She truly did. Patience, understanding, and compromise had all failed to rattle his cage of control.

She could not continue to exhaust herself against the rigid walls he kept around his heart, could not keep hoping for a breakthrough that seemed destined to remain perpetually out of reach.

As she climbed the stairs toward her chamber, leaving puddles of lake water in her wake, she realized that some distances were too vast to bridge with good intentions alone. And perhaps some people were simply too afraid of genuine connection to risk the vulnerability it required.

Behind her, she could hear the low murmur of voices as Diana and Harriet attempted to smooth over the wreckage of the confrontation, but Jane no longer possessed the mental capacity or the energy to care about diplomatic solutions or careful negotiations.

As she closed her chamber door, the tears she had been holding back finally spilled over her dark lashes. She wondered if she had just saved her marriage or destroyed it entirely.

The terrible uncertainty was that she was no longer sure there was any difference between the two.