Page 20 of Duke of Storme (Braving the Elements #4)

“Ye’ve got good lines,” Mrs. MacAlpin announced, stepping back to assess her canvas. “Bony shoulders, narrow waist, and ye carry yerself with more confidence than most lasses who come through these parts.”

“Thank you,” Diana said, though she wasn’t entirely certain it had been a compliment.

“Now then,” the seamstress said, stepping back to assess her work. “His Grace said ye needed somethin’ suitable for the Inverthistle ball. But he also said – and these were his exact words, mind – that it should suit ye and be yer choice.”

Diana glanced down at the cascade of midnight blue silk that pooled around her feet. The gown was unlike anything she’d ever worn – elegant without being ostentatious, with clean lines that emphasized her figure without overwhelming her delicate frame.

“The color,” Diana said, running her fingers over the rich fabric. “Perhaps it might be too bold for someone in my position?”

“And what position would that be, now?” Mrs. MacAlpin asked sharply.

“Duchess of one of Scotland’s oldest families?

Wife to a man who’s earned every bit of respect he commands?

Or are ye still thinkin’ of yerself as the shiny wee thing the servants whisper about, instead of the duchess ye’ve become? ”

The question struck Diana deeply. Was that how she still saw herself? As an outsider playing dress-up in someone else’s life?

“It is certainly beautiful,” she said honestly, “but perhaps too–”

“Too what?” Mrs. MacAlpin interrupted, her hands on her hips. “Too demure for a Duchess? Too elegant for a sassenach ? Or too likely to make certain Dukes forget themselves entirely?”

Heat crept up Diana’s neck. “I beg your pardon?”

“Och, don’t ye ‘beg my pardon’ me, Your Grace.” The seamstress knelt to adjust the hem with efficient fingers. “I’ve been dressin’ the women of this region for near thirty years. I know what works best and what doesn’t. And I know when a man’s finally noticed his wife.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Diana said, biting back a smile at the seamstress’s directness.

Mrs. MacAlpin snorted. “‘Course ye don’t. Just like ye don’t know His Grace spent half an hour yesterday describin’ the exact shade of yer eyes so I could match the trim properly.”

Diana’s heart skipped a beat. “He did?”

“Like a man enchanted, he was. ‘Brown’, says he, ‘but not just brown… like autumn leaves when the sun hits them just so… with gold threads runnin’ through.’. Quite the poet, our Duke, when he puts his mind to it.”

Diana stared at her reflection in the standing mirror, hardly recognizing the woman staring back at her.

Gone was the careful, retiring creature who’d arrived at Storme Castle.

In her place stood someone more confident, elegant, and beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with careful artifice and everything to do with being truly seen for the first time in her life.

“Mrs. MacAlpin,” she said quietly, “may I ask you something?”

“Ye may ask. Whether I answer depends on the question.”

“What do you think of me? Honestly. As an outsider – a sassenach as you Scots say – coming into Highland society.”

The older woman was quiet for a long moment as her weathered hands smoothed the silk with reverent care.

“I think,” she said finally, “that ye’re exactly what this castle needs.

What he needs, though he’s too darn stubborn to admit it yet.

” She looked up at Diana with eyes that held decades of wisdom.

“Ye’re no’ like others who come, thinkin’ they can change everythin’ to suit their London ways.

Ye listen. Ye watch. Ye try to understand us instead of just demandin’ to be understood. ”

Diana felt tears prick her eyes. “Thank you. For your honesty.”

“Don’t thank me yet, lass. Thank me after ye’ve survived yer first Highland ball.” Mrs. MacAlpin stood, brushing her hands on her apron. “Now then, let’s see about accessories. His Grace mentioned ye might have some family pearls?”

“Yes,” Diana said confidently. “And, I had an idea, but I need your assistance with it.”

Diana moved toward her jewelry box with newfound purpose. She opened the carved wooden box, her fingers finding the strand of pearls her mother had given her on her wedding day.

“These’ll be grand with the gown,” Mrs. MacAlpin said, examining the lustrous pearls with a professional eye. “Simple, elegant, and they won’t compete with the silk.”

“Mrs. MacAlpin,” Diana said as the woman made final adjustments to the gown, “what would you do if you were in my position?”

“At the ball, ye mean?”

“In this marriage. In this life. If you were an English woman trying to find her place in Scottish society…”

The seamstress paused in her work, studying Diana’s face in the mirror. “I’d stop tryin’ to find my place and start makin’ one for myself,” she said finally. “Ye think too much about fittin’ in, lass. Sometimes the best thing ye can do is stand out.”

The words settled over Diana like a mantle.

Stand out. Be seen. Be heard. Who would’ve thought?

“You’re right,” she said quietly. “I’ve spent so long trying to be what others wanted me to be that I’ve lost sight of what I truly want.”

“Och, aye. And what do ye want then?”

Diana looked at her reflection again – at the midnight blue silk that made her skin glow, at the woman she was becoming rather than the girl she used to be.

“Everything,” she whispered.

A week from now, she would walk into that ballroom on Finn’s arm, and it felt as though her entire future was hanging on a precarious thread. She would either prove herself worthy of her new station, or she would fail most spectacularly.

But looking at her own image in the midnight blue silk, remembering the way Finn’s hands had felt at her waist during their lesson, Diana found herself hoping for something more than mere survival.

She found herself hoping for triumph.

And perhaps, if she was lucky enough, she might discover that the man she’d married was hoping for the same thing.

“There,” the seamstress said, stepping back to admire her work. “Ye look the spittin’ image of a Duchess who knows her own worth. Now, let’s see if ye can convince the rest of Highland society of the same thing.”

Diana’s fingers trailed over the pearls at her neck. “I believe I can,” she said, and for the first time since arriving at Storme Castle, she truly meant it.