Page 26 of Duke of Storme (Braving the Elements #4)

“I’ll leave ye to yer planning, then.” His voice returned to its usual careful coldness.

Diana nodded, already missing the unexpected intimacy of the past few minutes. “Yes, of course Your Grace. I know you have important matters to tend to; let me not keep you.”

After he left, she spent the better part of an hour finalizing every detail of the dinner party – from the wine selections to the precise timing of each course.

When she finally set down her quill, the guest list had been transformed into a comprehensive plan that would have impressed even her mother’s exacting standards.

Satisfied with her work and suddenly restless after being confined indoors, Diana tucked the completed plans into her reticule and made her way outside. The Highland air was crisp and biting, and she pulled her wool cloak tighter as she made her way toward the old oak tree.

An hour later, Diana walked through the castle gardens when a familiar voice called out to her.

“Your Grace!”

Diana turned to find Mr. Calder approaching with another gentleman she didn’t recognize.

“Mr. Calder,” she said warmly. “Lovely to see you. How is your leg doing?”

“Och, much better, thank ye for askin’, Your Grace.” He lifted the tip of his hat toward her. “Allow me to present Sir James Crawford, Baronet of Glenross. Sir James, Her Grace, the Duchess of Storme.”

The baronet was younger than she expected, perhaps around thirty, with sandy hair and kind brown eyes that crinkled when he smiled. “Your Grace, it’s an honor. I’ve heard a great many things about the English lady who’d captured our Highland Duke’s heart.”

“Have you indeed?” Diana felt herself relaxing in the presence of this man who seemed genuinely pleased to meet her. “And what have you heard, precisely?”

“That you’re far too good for him,” Sir James said with a charming grin. “Though I suspect that’s true of most wives regarding their husbands.”

Diana laughed – a genuine, delighted sound that surprised even herself. “Sir James, you are incorrigible.”

“So, my late wife always told me, Your Grace. Said it was part of my charm.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, truly,” Diana said softly.

“Thank you. It’s been three years now, and I’m only just learning to laugh again. Something tells me you understand what it’s like to find your voice after a long silence.”

The observation surprised her with its unexpected perception. “I am not sure I know what you mean.”

“Oh, I think you do, Your Grace. There’s something different about you from what I’d expected. You seem stronger. More… present.”

“Present?”

“As though you’ve finally decided to stop apologizing for taking up space in the world.”

Diana stared at him, struck speechless by the accuracy. “That’s quite an observation from someone who only met me five minutes ago.”

“I’ve had practice reading people. We are kindred souls, I suspect.”

Mr. Calder cleared his throat diplomatically. “Her Grace looks mighty radiant this afternoon, does she not? The Highland air seems to agree with ye, Your Grace.”

“It does.” Diana agreed. “More than I expected.”

“And how are you finding married life?” Sir James asked with gentle teasing. “Is our fierce Duke treating you well?”

Diana felt her cheeks flush. “His Grace is… everything I expected him to be.”

Sir James laughed, and the sound was so infectious that Diana found herself laughing along. “You’ll make an excellent Duchess, Your Grace. You have the perfect balance of honesty and discretion. The Duke is a lucky man, indeed.”

“You’re too kind.”

“I’m truthful. There’s a difference. I hope the Duke realizes what a treasure he’s found.”

“I’m hardly a treasure, Sir James.”

“Now that,” he said with mock seriousness, “is the first thing you’ve said that I must, respectfully, disagree with.”

Diana’s laughter rang out once more across the garden, bright and genuine and completely unconscious of the man watching from the castle’s stone balcony above.

Good God. What is happening?

Finn’s hands gripped the stone balcony railing until his knuckles went white.

His gray-blue eyes fixed on the scene unfolding in the garden below.

Diana stood between Mr. Calder and some sandy-haired bastard he didn’t recognize, her face bright with laughter that cut through Finn like a Highland dirk.

The sound drifted up on the autumn wind, genuine and musical in a way that made his chest tighten with unfamiliar pain.

When had she ever laughed like that with him? When had he ever seen her face light up with such unguarded joy or her brown eyes sparkling like stars?

“Enjoyin’ the view, Your Grace?”

Finn spun around to find Locke leaning against the doorway, his broad frame blocking the entrance with casual arrogance. A knowing smirk played around his friend’s lips, and there was something dark in his eyes that made Finn’s jaw clench.

“What are ye doin’ here?”

“Och, came to see how the lessons are progressin’.

” Locke pushed off from the doorframe with fluid grace, moving to stand beside Finn at the railing.

The Highland wind whipped through his dark hair as he gazed down at the garden scene with obvious amusement.

“Though it seems yer wife is receivin’ instruction from someone else entirely at present. ”

“She’s bein’ polite to a guest.”

“Is that what we’re callin’ it?” Locke’s hands came to rest on the stone beside Finn’s. His knuckles were scarred from year of naval battles and Highland brawls. “Because from here, it looks suspiciously like she’s enjoyin’ herself.”

Finn’s jaw tightened so much that a muscle started jumping beneath the skin as he watched Diana tilt her head back in delight at something the man said. The gesture was so unconsciously graceful, so truthfully animated, that it was like watching a different women entirely.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that it’s the first time I’ve seen her truly smile since I’ve arrived. And it’s certainly the first time I’ve heard her laugh.” Locke’s voice carried the weight of years of friendship, of shared battles and unspoken understanding. “Question is… why hasn’t she been laughin’ with ye?”

“Because we’re not–” Finn stopped abruptly, the words dying in his throat as he realized what he’d been about to admit.

“Not what? Friends? Lovers? Not truly married?” Locke’s voice carried an edge of challenge – the same tone he’d used once to question orders from incompetent superiors. “Because last I checked, she’s wearin’ yer ring and plannin’ yer dinner parties with remarkable competence.”

“How do ye know about the dinner party?”

“Mrs. Glenwright told me. Said the lass has already reorganized the entire staff schedule and sent orders to the wine merchant in Edinburgh.” Locke’s eyes glittered with something between amusement and concern. “Apparently, she knows more about entertainin’ Highland gentry than anyone expected.”

Finn said nothing. His eyes were still fixed firmly on Diana below.

She had moved closer to the man now. Her wool cloak billowed around her petite frame as she gestured toward something in the distance.

Evern from this height, he could see the enthusiasm in her posture, the way she leaned forward slightly while listening, completely engaged in the conversation.

“Ye know what yer problem is?” Locke continued, his voice dropping to the quieter tone he’d once used during their most grim conversations aboard the Interceptor .

“I’m sure ye’ll enlighten me.”

“Ye’re so busy protectin’ yerself from carin’ about her that ye’ve forgotten to actually get to know her, old friend.”

“I know her.”

“Do ye?” Locke turned to face him fully, his expression serious beneath the wild, wind-tousled mop of hair on his head.

“Because the woman I’ve been watching for the past two days is nothing like the quiet, biddable creature ye described.

She’s fiercely intelligent, unnervingly observant, and increasingly confident.

She’s also lonely, ye know – though she hides it well. ”

“She’s not–”

“She is, Finn. She’s married to a man who treats her like a responsibility instead of a wife. And sooner or later, she’s goin’ to realize she deserves better.”

Below in the garden, Diana threw back her head and laughed again at something the man said.

The sound floated up to them on the wind like birdsong at dawn.

Her chestnut hair caught the afternoon light, and Finn found himself memorizing the way the breeze caught her cloak, following the graceful line of her neck as she looked up at her companion.

“Better… like our young baronet, Sir James here?” Finn’s voice had gone dangerously quiet – the very same tone that had once made seasoned sailors check their knots twice.

“Maybe. He seems to appreciate her company.”

“He’s flirtin’ with my wife.”

“Aye. And she’s enjoyin’ it. Question is, what are ye goin’ to do about it?”

Finn was moving before he’d consciously made the decision.

His immaculate hessian boots clicked against the stone.

The sound echoed through the castle as he strode forward with purposeful gait that had once cleared paths on crowded decks.

Servants pressed themselves against the walls as he passed, recognizing the stern set of his shoulders and the controlled fury in his eyes.

By the time he reached the garden, his expression had settled into the cold mask that had once intimidated naval officers and lords alike.

“Gentlemen,” he said, his voice carrying easily across the space between them.

Diana turned at his approach, and Finn felt that familiar twist in his chest at the way her smile dimmed slightly when she saw him. The light that had been dancing in her eyes just moments before flickered like a candle flame threatened by an unexpected draft.

“Your Grace,” Sir James said smoothly, stepping forward to offer a perfectly correct bow. “What excellent timing. I was just telling Her Grace about the poetry society in Edinburgh.”

“Were ye now.”