Page 32 of Duke of Storme (Braving the Elements #4)

Jane and Lydia exchanged another of those meaningful looks.

“What?” Diana demanded.

“Nothing,” Jane said innocently. “It’s just… you’re practically glowing, Diana. You have been since we arrived.”

“I am not glowing.”

“Oh, you absolutely are,” Lydia confirmed. “There’s this… life in your face that was never there before. Animation. As though someone finally turned up the wick on a lamp that had been burning too dimly.”

Diana caught sight of herself in the mirror above the hearth mantlepiece and paused. Her sisters were right – her cheeks had color, her eyes held spark, and even her posture suggested someone comfortable in her own skin.

“The Duke will join us for dinner,” she said, deflecting from the uncomfortable self-examination. “I should warn you; he’s not much for small talk.”

“What is he much for?” Jane asked with obvious curiosity.

Diana considered this for a moment. “Honesty. Directness. He values substance over prettiness. And he has absolutely no patience for social games or artificial politeness.”

“He sounds absolutely perfect for you,” Lydia observed.

“Does he?” Diana felt a flutter of something that might have been hope.

“Diana,” Jane said gently, “you’ve always been the most genuine person I know. You’ve just finally found someone who appreciates that quality instead of expecting you to diminish it.”

An hour later, Diana descended the stairs to find Finn waiting in the drawing room, dressed in his formal evening attire. He looked magnificent and slightly intimidating. His dark hair was perfectly groomed and his military bearing was evident in every line of his body.

“Duchess,” he said, bowing formally as she entered with her sisters and their husbands.

“Your Grace, may I present my sisters? Jane, with her husband Richard, the Duke of Myste. And Lydia, with her husband Elias, the Duke of Fyre.”

“Your Graces,” Finn replied with another precise bow. “Welcome to Storme Castle, Your Graces,” he added to the men with respectful acknowledgement.

Richard stepped forward with measured courtesy. “Your Grace. Thank you for receiving us.”

Elias also inclined his head. “We’re grateful for your hospitality.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, Your Grace,” Jane echoed, studying Finn with sharp assessment.. “Diana has told us so much about Highland customs, but we are eager to learn more.”

“Has she?” Finn’s gaze shifted to Diana as something unreadable flashed across his features. “And what exactly has she shared?”

“That Highland society values directness over diplomacy,” Lydia said with a smile. “A refreshing change from London’s tendency toward elaborate pretense.”

“Aye, we prefer honest words to pretty lies,” Finn agreed. “Though I suspect ye both understand that well enough, bein’ Brandon sisters.”

During dinner, Diana found herself caught between nervousness and fascination as she watched her family interact. Finn had seated Jane to his right, Lydia to Diana’s left, with Richard beside Jane and Elias beside Lydia, creating an intimate setting that encouraged conversation.

“The estate records show remarkable improvement in tenant conditions over the past two years,” Jane observed during the first course. “Such comprehensive reforms suggest considerable investment.”

“Aye, the previous Duke let things deteriorate badly,” Finn replied. “When I inherited, half the cottages had leaking roofs, and the roads were barely passable.”

“That must have required significant capital,” Lydia said thoughtfully. “Not to mention gaining the trust of tenants who’d been neglected for years.”

“A challenging inheritance,” Richard observed with the precision of a man familiar with estate management. “Rebuilding both infrastructure and relationships simultaneously.”

Diana watched with growing admiration as Finn’s reserved demeanor gradually warmed under her family’s genuine interest. His responses became longer, more detailed; his passion for the estate’s welfare was evident in every word.

“The tenants needed to see changes, not just promises,” he said, carving the roast with precise movements. “I spent the first year visiting every cottage, every farm, listening to their concerns.”

“And now?” Diana asked, joining the conversation..

“Now they trust me to keep my word,” Finn said, meeting her gaze directly. “Trust is earned through actions, not intentions.”

“A philosophy that serves marriage as well as estate management,” Jane observed pointedly, making Diana’s cheeks flush.

“Does it?” Finn’s tone was carefully neutral, but Diana caught the slight tension in his shoulders.

“Certainly,” Lydia said, coming to Diana’s rescue. “Though I imagine Highland marriages have their own unique characteristics compared to London arrangements.”

“Highland marriages tend to be more... practical,” Finn said carefully. “Less concerned with romantic sentiment, more focused on mutual benefit and shared responsibilities.”

“How wonderfully pragmatic,” Jane said dryly. “Though I’ve observed that even the most practical arrangements can develop unexpected... complications.”

Elias smiled slithtly. “In my experience, the most practical arrangements often become the most rewarding.”

Diana felt her pulse quicken at the turn of the conversation. “Jane means that respect and understanding can grow over time, even in marriages that begin as mere alliances.”

“Can they?” Finn’s gaze lingered on her face. “And what do ye think breeds such understanding?”

“Honesty,” Diana said without hesitation. “Being willing to see each other as real people rather than just... roles to be filled.”

“Roles,” Finn repeated thoughtfully. “Aye, ‘tis easy to forget there’s a person beneath the title.”

“Speaking of which,” Lydia interjected with gentle humor, “might we dispense with the formal address? We are family now, after all.”

“If ye wish,” Finn said as something in his expression softened. “Though I confess, I’m not much practiced at... family dinners.”

“Then you’ll learn,” Jane said firmly. “Diana’s already working miracles with this castle. I’m sure she can teach you about family dynamics as well.”

Diana felt a warm glow at her sister’s confidence. “He has been teaching me a great deal about Highland customs. I think we’re both... discovering new aspects of ourselves.”

“Are ye?” Finn asked quietly. His voice carried a note Diana couldn’t quite identify.

“I think so,” she said, meeting his gaze directly. “I’m certainly not the same person who arrived here weeks ago.”

“No,” he agreed, his voice rough. “Ye’re not.”

The remainder of dinner passed with increasingly comfortable conversation.

Her sisters and their husbands drew Finn out with skillful questions about Highland history, castle maintenance, and his naval service.

Diana found herself observing the interplay with fascination, noting how Finn’s military precision softened into something more genuine under their patient attention.

When Lydia complimented the cook’s excellent pastry during dessert, Finn actually smiled. “She’ll be pleased to hear it. Mrs. Glenwright takes considerable pride in her kitchen.”

“As she should,” Jane said. “Everything has been superb. Diana, you’ve clearly established an excellent household.”

Diana felt a flush of pride at the compliment. “Mrs. Glenwright has been wonderfully patient with my questions about Highland customs. The staff here has been... more welcoming than I expected.”

“They respect ye,” Finn said simply. “That’s not easily earned.”

After dinner, when Finn excused himself to attend to correspondence, the sisters retired to Diana’s sitting room.

The men settled in the library with brandy, giving the women the privacy for their reunion.

Jane settled into her chair with the satisfied expression of someone who’d successfully completed a reconnaissance mission.

“Well,” Jane said, settling back in her chair with obvious satisfaction. “That was illuminating.”

“Was it?” Diana asked, arranging her skirts as she took her seat by the fire.

“Oh yes,” Lydia agreed, accepting a cup of tea from the service that had been waiting for them. “Your Highland Duke is far more complex than we expected based on our previous… encounter with him.”

“What encounter?” Diana asked, panicking for a moment, thinking she had missed something.

“The engagement dinner,” Jane said with pointed meaning. “When he announced his intention to whisk you away to Scotland with barely a week’s notice and showed about as much warmth as the stones in this very castle!”

“He can be... reserved with strangers,” Diana said carefully.

“Reserved, perhaps,” Lydia said thoughtfully. “But tonight was entirely different. The man who came to your engagement dinner barely acknowledged you as a person. Tonight, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

“And--” Jane added with a knowing look, “Tonight he kept glancing at you throughout dinner. Not in a possessive way, but as though… as though he was checking to ensure you were comfortable, that you approved of how he was handling himself with us.”

Diana felt warmth creep up her neck. “I’m sure you’re imagining–”

“I’m not imagining anything,” Jane interrupted firmly. “Diana, the change in him from that cold, dismissive man at your wedding to tonight is remarkable. He watches you the way Richard watched me when he thinks I’m not looking. Like you’re something precious he’s afraid to break.”

“Or lose,” Lydia added softly. “And entirely unlike the man who abandoned you on your wedding day. There was something almost… protective in the way he looked at you tonight. As though you’re something he’s not quite sure he deserves to keep.”

Diana was quiet for a moment, thinking of Finn’s confession about being his hope. “Perhaps he isn’t sure. Perhaps we’re both still figuring out what we deserve.”

The sisters exchanged one of their meaningful looks, and Diana felt the familiar flutter of being observed and analyzed by minds sharper than her own.

“What?” she asked defensively.

“Nothing,” Lydia said with a gentle smile. “It’s just... you’ve changed, Diana. More than we even realized during our earlier conversation.”

“How so?”

“The way you spoke to him tonight,” Jane said. “You challenged his opinions, asked pointed questions, and disagreed with him about the road improvements. At the engagement dinner, you barely said a word. Tonight, you held your own in every conversation.”

“He asked for my opinion,” Diana protested.

“Yes, and you gave it,” Lydia said warmly. “Clearly and confidently, without apologizing or hedging. You spoke to him as an equal.”

“Aren’t we equals?” Diana asked, surprised by the question.

“In worth, absolutely,” Jane replied. “But in confidence? In believing your thoughts matter as much as his? Diana, six months ago you wouldn’t have dared express an opinion that contradicted a gentleman’s, let alone a Duke’s.”

Diana considered this, remembering her old habit of agreeing with whatever opinion was expressed and shrinking from conflict or debate. “I suppose... I suppose I’ve stopped being afraid of being wrong.”

“Or of being right,” Lydia observed. “Sometimes that’s even more frightening.”

“Is it?”

“Oh yes,” Jane said with feeling. “Being wrong is embarrassing but being right when someone else is wrong... that can make people uncomfortable. The Diana we knew would have chosen embarrassment over making others uncomfortable.”

“And the new Diana?” Diana asked, genuinely curious about her sisters’ assessment.

“The new Diana,” Lydia said with obvious pride, “chooses truth over comfort. Authenticity over approval. It’s remarkable to witness.”

As the evening progressed, Diana found herself reflecting on her sisters’ observations. When had she stopped seeking permission to have opinions? When had she begun to value her own thoughts enough to express them, even when they differed from those around her?

Perhaps the answer lay not in any single moment, but in the accumulation of small choices. The choice to speak up during her first dinner with Finn. The choice to explore the sealed wing despite his prohibition. The choice to challenge his assumptions about her capabilities.

“We should probably retire,” Lydia said eventually, stifling a yawn. “Tomorrow, I want to hear more about this formal dinner you’re planning. Twenty-four Highland landowners sounds delightfully terrifying.”

“It is rather daunting,” Diana admitted. “But also... exciting. I’ve never planned anything so significant before.”

“And how does Finn feel about your taking charge of such an important event?” Jane asked casually.

“I think he’s surprised by how well I’m managing it,” Diana said. “And perhaps a little proud, though he’d never admit it.”

“Ah,” Jane said with satisfaction. “Now that sounds like a man falling in love.”

“Jane,” Diana protested, but her heart gave that treacherous flutter again.

“What? I’m simply observing the evidence. A man who takes pride in his wife’s accomplishments, who trusts her with important responsibilities, and who looks at her like she hung the stars...” Jane shrugged. “If that’s not love, it’s certainly pointing in that direction.”

“And how do you feel about him?” Lydia asked gently. “Honestly?”

Diana was quiet for a long moment, considering the question seriously. “I think... I think I’m falling in love with him. Not the idea of him, not the convenience of the marriage, but him. The real him, beneath all that carefully controlled composure.”

Her sisters smiled at each other, and Diana felt a rush of affection for these women who knew her better than she sometimes knew herself.

“Then perhaps,” Lydia said softly, “the question isn’t whether you’re worthy of love, but whether you’re brave enough to accept it when it’s offered.”

As her sisters prepared for bed, Diana stood at her window looking out over the Highland landscape. In the distance, she could see lights in the estate manager’s cottage, signs of life and warmth in the vast darkness.

What did her sisters see that she didn’t? What transformation had taken place so gradually that she’d barely noticed it herself?

Perhaps the answer lay not in what had changed, but in what had finally been allowed to emerge. Perhaps she’d never been broken at all. Perhaps she’d simply been waiting for someone to see her clearly enough to reflect her own worth.

The question now was whether she was brave enough to trust what she saw in that reflection.