Page 38 of Duke of Storme (Braving the Elements #4)
“ Y our Grace, what a pleasant surprise to find you at home.”
The smooth, cultured voice drifted across the great hall, and Finn looked up from the estate correspondence he’d been reviewing to see Lord Rutherford ascending the steps with the easy confidence of a man accustomed to being welcomed wherever he went.
Finn had been expecting a quiet morning – Diana was supposedly occupied with household matters, and he’d planned to use the solitude to catch up on the mounting pile of business that seemed to multiply daily. Instead, he found himself faced with one of the last people he’d wanted to see.
“Rutherford,” Finn replied, his tone carrying the cool politeness he reserved for unwanted visitors. “I wasn’t expectin’ ye.”
“A spontaneous visit, I’m afraid.” Rutherford’s pale blue eyes swept the hall with obvious appreciation, taking in the restored tapestries, the polished stone floors, and the general air of prosperity that had replaced the previous Duke’s neglect.
“I was passing through on my way to Edinburgh and thought I’d pay my respects.
The improvements to Storme are quite remarkable. You’ve transformed the place entirely.”
There was something in the man’s tone that suggested more than casual interest in the castle’s renovations.
Finn had heard enough gossip to know that Rutherford’s own estate had fallen on hard times since his wife’s death two years prior.
The man was rumored to be in search of a wealthy widow to restore his fortunes, though his charm and good looks had apparently provided him with more temporary arrangements in the meantime.
“My wife deserves the credit for most of the changes,” Finn said, gesturing toward Diana as she descended the staircase with her usual grace.
The moment the words left his mouth; Finn realized his mistake.
Rutherford’s gaze followed his gesture and fixed on Diana with an intensity that made something cold and primitive stir in Finn’s chest. The man’s expression changed from polite interest to something far more focused, far more personal.
It was the look of a predator spotting particularly appealing prey.
“Ah,” Rutherford murmured, his voice dropping to a register that suggested intimacy. “Now I understand the true source of Storme’s transformation.”
Finn felt his jaw clench involuntarily. His hands tightened around the papers he held until the parchment crinkled audibly. There was something in Rutherford’s tone – a knowing quality that suggested he was already imagining scenarios that had nothing to do with castle improvements.
Diana seemed oblivious to the undercurrent of tension suddenly crackling through the air.
She moved toward them with that composed smile she’d perfected for Highland society, every inch the gracious Duchess.
But Finn could see things in her appearance that Rutherford was undoubtedly cataloging as well: the way the morning light caught the rich brown of her hair, the elegant line of her neck revealed by her simple day dress, the natural grace that had nothing to do with training and everything to do with an inner confidence she’d only recently discovered.
“Lord Rutherford,” she said, offering a curtsy that was perfectly correct without being subservient. “What a lovely surprise. I hope your journey wasn’t too arduous?”
“Any journey would be worth making to find myself in such charming company,” Rutherford replied, taking her offered hand and holding it perhaps a moment longer than strictly necessary. His thumb brushed across her knuckles in a gesture that could have been accidental but almost certainly wasn’t.
The possessive fury that swept through Finn was even more intense that what he’d felt watching Sir James with Diana. Each instance seemed to grow stronger, as though his carefully controlled emotions were gathering force.
Watching another man touch Diana, even in the most socially acceptable way, made him want to commit violence.
“You’re very kind,” Diana said, gently extricating her hand with the sort of practiced grace that suggested she’d dealt with forward gentlemen before. “I trust you’ll stay for tea? Mrs. Glenwright would never forgive me if I let a guest leave without proper refreshment.”
“I would be delighted,” Rutherford replied, his smile becoming more pronounced as he studied her face with obvious appreciation. “Though I confess, the company is invitation enough.”
The smooth flattery rolled off his tongue with practiced ease, and Finn found himself studying the man with new eyes.
Lord Rutherford was perhaps five years his senior, with the kind of polished attractiveness that came from generations of good breeding and careful grooming.
His clothes were impeccably tailored in the latest London fashion, his manner effortlessly charming, and he had the confident air of a man who was accustomed to getting what he wanted.
Particularly from women.
Finn had heard stories, of course. Rutherford’s reputation as a charmer was well-established throughout Scotland’s noble circles.
His late wife had been a considerable heiress, and her death had left him with a title, a crumbling estate, and debts that required either careful economy or a wealthy second marriage to resolve.
Given the man’s obvious preference for luxury and leisure, Finn suspected which option he was pursuing.
“Shall we adjourn to the morning room?” Diana suggested, already moving in that direction with the unconscious authority she’d developed since taking charge of Storme’s household. “I believe the light is particularly lovely at this time of day.”
As they settled themselves around the tea service, Finn found himself relegated to the role of observer while Rutherford deployed his considerable charm with surgical precision.
The morning room, with its newly restored windows and comfortable furniture, provided an intimate setting that seemed designed for the kind of conversation Rutherford clearly had in mind.
“I must say, Duchess, Storme has grown remarkably more welcoming since your arrival,” Rutherford said, accepting a delicate porcelain cup with practiced ease.
His fingers lingered near Diana’s as she passed him the sugar, and Finn noticed the way his eyes tracked her every movement.
“It’s no wonder the air itself feels lighter.
There’s something about a woman’s touch that can transform even the most austere environment. ”
Diana’s cheeks colored slightly at the compliment, but her response was characteristically thoughtful. “You’re very generous, my lord. Though I think perhaps the castle simply needed someone willing to see its potential rather than dwelling on its reputation for gloom.”
“Spoken like a true gardener,” Rutherford observed with obvious approval, leaning forward in his chair as though drawn by some magnetic force. “Tell me, do you garden as well as you host? I imagine someone with your obvious talent for nurturing beauty must have a way with growing things.”
The question seemed innocent enough on the surface, but something in Rutherford’s tone made Finn’s attention sharpen.
There was a quality to the man’s interest that went beyond polite conversation – a subtle undercurrent that suggested he was thinking of things Diana might nurture that had nothing to do with plants.
“Only when the soil allows it,” Diana replied, her own tone carefully neutral though Finn caught the slight tightening around her eyes that suggested she’d noticed the subtext as well. “Some roots don’t take easily to change, no matter how much attention they receive.”
Her glance toward Finn was brief but unmistakable, and he felt heat stir in his chest at the implied comparison.
Was she speaking of gardening, or of the careful cultivation their own relationship had required?
The way she’d had to patiently work past his defenses, tending to something that had seemed determined to remain barren?
“How fascinating,” Rutherford murmured, his voice taking on an even more intimate quality as he moved his chair slightly closer to Diana’s.
“I’ve always found that with the right care and attention, even the most stubborn plants can be coaxed to bloom.
It’s simply a matter of understanding what they need – warmth, perhaps, or a gentler hand than they’ve been accustomed to. ”
The conversation was growing increasingly layered with meaning, and Finn found himself fighting the urge to interrupt.
There was something in the way Rutherford looked at Diana – something hungry and calculating that set every instinct he possessed on high alert.
The man was hunting, and he’d clearly identified his prey.
“Perhaps,” Diana said carefully, though Finn could see the slight flush that crept up her neck at Rutherford’s implications. “Though I’ve learned that some gardens require patience rather than persistence. Forcing growth rarely produces lasting results.”
“Wise words indeed,” Rutherford agreed. “Though I confess myself curious about your methods. The gardens at Storme were reportedly quite neglected before your arrival, yet I’m told they’re now among the finest in the Highlands. Such a transformation suggests remarkable skill.”
Finn knew for a fact that Rutherford had no particular interest in gardening – the man’s own estate was notorious for its overgrown grounds and neglected landscaping.
But he was using the topic as a vehicle for something else entirely, a way to establish intimacy and shared interest with Diana while ostensibly maintaining proper conversation.
“Would you perhaps consider showing me your hothouses later in the week?” Rutherford continued, his tone becoming more direct. “I’m planning to establish new gardens at Thornfield and would value your expertise. I’m sure we could find much to discuss regarding... cultivation techniques.”