Page 33 of Duke of Storme (Braving the Elements #4)
“ T ell me everything about Marian’s nursery preparations,” Diana said, curling up in her favorite chair by the sitting room fire. The tea service sat between them, steam rising from delicate porcelain cups in the flickering light.
“She’s driving Nicholas to distraction with fabric samples,” Jane replied with amusement. “Yesterday she changed her mind about the wallpaper for the third time. Something about wanting ‘soothing but not insipid’ colors.”
“Poor Nicholas,” Lydia laughed. “Though he seems to enjoy indulging her every whim. Last week he had an entire library of nursery rhymes delivered from London because she mentioned wanting to read to the baby.”
Diana smiled, settling back into the comfortable rhythm of sisterly conversation.
They’d covered the safer topics during tea – London gossip, fashion trends, amusing stories from Elias and Richard’s latest political endeavors.
But now, with the servants dismissed and the castle quiet around them, Diana sensed the shift toward more serious matters.
“The dinner last night was lovely,” Lydia said carefully. “The Duke seems... quite different from the man we met at the engagement dinner.”
“Different how?” Diana asked, though she could guess.
“Much warmer,” Jane said. “The man at the engagement dinner was cold and dismissive, treating you as an inanimate object. Last night, he actually seemed to care about you. Your comfort. Your opinions.”
“He can be very considerate when he chooses to be,” Diana said softly.
“And does he choose to be considerate with you?” Lydia asked with gentle concern. “Because frankly, after the way he abandoned you on your wedding day, we’ve been worried.”
Diana felt her cheeks warm. “Most of the time. He’s... complex.”
Jane leaned forward, her sharp eyes fixed on Diana’s face. “Complex how? Diana, we saw how he treated you during the engagement process. We witnessed him leaving you at the altar, essentially. We need to know you are truly well here. How has your husband been treating you? Honestly?”
The directness of the question made Diana pause, her teacup halfway to her lips. She couldn’t pretend the past hadn’t happened, couldn’t dismiss the legitimate concerns her sister raised.
“He was awful at first,” Diana admitted quietly. “As cold and distant as expected, barely acknowledging my presence. I spent the first weeks here feeling like an unwelcome guest.
Both sisters went very still. Lydia set down her cup with careful precision.
“And now?” Jane asked, her voice carrying an edge that reminded Diana why her sister had always been the most formidable of them.
“Now… he is trying. I think we both are.” Diana set down her own cup, choosing her words carefully. “He’s teaching me Highland customs, trusting me with estate responsibilities. And sometimes, when he thinks I’m not looking, he watched me with something that might be… pride?”
“That’s quite a change from the man who couldn’t wait to escape London,” Lydia observed. “What do you think caused it?”
“I think… we’re both learning that we are more alike than either of us expected.
Both outsiders trying to prove we belong somewhere.
” Diana’s voice grew stronger. “He may have been cruel in the beginning, but I don’t think it was malicious.
I think he was just as frightened as I was, just better at hiding it.
Jane’s expression remained skeptical. “And you’re willing to forgive being abandoned on your wedding day because he was frightened?”
“I am not excusing it,” Diana said firmly.
“But I’m trying to understand it. And more importantly, I’m trying to focus on who he’s becoming rather than dwelling on who he was when all this began.
After all, I have changed just as much. Why shouldn’t I afford him the same courtesy he has afforded me? ”
The sisters exchanged one of their meaningful looks, and Diana felt the familiar flutter of being under their joint scrutiny.
“Diana,” Jane said carefully, “you’re not developing feelings for him, are you?”
Diana felt her breath catch and her pulse quickened in a way that was answer enough.
“I... why would you ask that?”
“Because--” Lydia said gently, “you get this expression when you talk about him. Like you’re trying to solve the most fascinating puzzle in the world. And because you’ve stopped talking about this marriage as something that happened to you.”
“How do I talk about it now?”
“Like something you’re actively choosing,” Jane said bluntly. “Like something you want to succeed.”
Diana was quiet for a long moment, staring into the fire. “Is that so wrong?”
“It could be dangerous,” Jane replied. “Diana, promise me you won’t lose yourself trying to save a man who might not want to be saved.”
“I’m not trying to save anyone,” Diana protested.
“Aren’t you?” Lydia asked softly. “You’ve always had a tender heart, dearest. And wounded creatures have always called to you.”
“He’s not a wounded creature,” Diana said. “He’s a man who’s spent his entire life fighting to prove he belongs somewhere. That’s not the same thing.”
“No,” Jane agreed. “Just… be careful with your heart, Diana. Make sure he’s truly changing before you offer it completely. You deserve someone who will treasure it.”
The warning hung in the air between them like smoke. Diana felt something twist in her chest at the words, partly because they echoed her own fears and partly because they might already be too late.
“Does he make you happy?” Lydia asked quietly.
Diana considered the question seriously. “He makes me feel... seen. And undone. And a little alive. Is that happiness?”
Jane and Lydia exchanged another look, this one heavy with concern and recognition.
“Sometimes,” Lydia said carefully, “feeling alive is the beginning of happiness. But sometimes it’s just the beginning of heartbreak.”
“You’ve spent too many years believing you weren’t worth loving,” Jane added urgently. “Don’t waste your heart on someone who might never be brave enough to love you in return.”
“But what if he could be?” Diana asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if he’s just as frightened as I used to be?”
“Then that’s his battle to fight,” Jane said firmly. “Not yours to fight for him.”
The conversation drifted to other topics after that, but Diana found herself only half-listening. Her sisters’ warnings echoed in her mind, mixing with memories of Finn’s confession about needing her as his anchor and his moments of unexpected vulnerability.
When her sisters finally retired to their chambers, Diana remained by the dying fire with her sketchbook open on her lap. She’d intended to capture the way the flames danced across the ancient stones but instead found her charcoal moving of its own accord.
Finn’s face emerged from the paper, but not the controlled mask he usually wore. This was Finn as he looked during their dancing lesson, when his guard had slipped for just a moment. His eyes held that intensity that made her feel like the only person in the world.
But it was his hands that drew her attention as the sketch developed.
Without conscious thought, she found herself drawing them with particular care – the way they’d felt at her waist during their lessons, strong and steady and surprisingly gentle.
The memory sent warmth spiraling through her chest.
Diana paused, studying what she’d created. When had she memorized the exact shape of his fingers? When had the memory of his touch become something she treasured?
She touched the charcoal lightly to the paper, adding depth to the shadows around his hands, and felt a startling moment of clarity.
She wasn’t falling in love with the idea of Finn, or with the romantic notion of transforming a difficult marriage into something beautiful.
She was falling in love with the man himself – his careful honor, his hidden vulnerability, and the way he looked at her as though she were something precious he was afraid to break.
The realization should have terrified her, especially with her sisters’ warnings still ringing in her ears. Instead, it felt like recognizing something she’d known but hadn’t been brave enough to name.
Diana closed the sketchbook and held it against her chest, feeling her heart race beneath her ribs. Her sisters’ concerns was understandable, but Diana found herself filled with hope rather than fear. They had time – years, if needed – to learn to love each other properly.
But as she sat there in the dying firelight, surrounded by the ancient stones of Storme Castle, Diana began to wonder if perhaps some risks were worth taking. If perhaps learning to love bravely was part of learning to live fully.
The man she’d tried to understand through charcoal and paper wasn’t just her husband anymore. He was the person she was falling in love with, despite every rational reason she shouldn’t.
And for the first time since arriving at Storme Castle, Diana found herself hoping that maybe – just maybe – she wasn’t the only one falling.