Page 2 of Duke of Storme
Jane leaned forward. Her eyes flashed. “Has he expressed any particular desire to marry Diana specifically, or would any eligible young lady have sufficed?”
“Jane!” Lady Brandon’s voice carried warning. “His Grace’s representatives were very specific. They sought a young lady of good breeding, pleasant disposition and appropriate accomplishments. Diana fits those requirements admirably.”
Pleasant disposition.Bitter laughter caught in Diana’s throat. She supposed those terms described her habitual quietness and tendency to fade into backgrounds at social gatherings. After all, where her sisters commanded attention, Diana had always been the one who listened and observed from ballroom edges.
“When will I meet him again?” she asked, surprised with how steady her voice sounded.
“Soon. His Grace will be arriving in London within the week to finalize the arrangements. There will be a small engagement dinner. We want to present you in the best possible light.”
Lydia spoke for the first time. Her voice was gentle but concerned. “Diana, dearest, how do you feel about all this?”
All eyes turned to her, and Diana felt pinned – like a beautiful butterfly to a collector’s board. Howdidshe feel? Terrified, certainly. Overwhelmed by marrying a complete stranger and moving to Scotland. But beneath the fear was a strange, numb acceptance.
“I… I’m honored, of course,” she said carefully. “It is a very advantageous match.”
Jane’s eyes narrowed with the particular look that meant she was reading between diplomatic lines. “But what doyouwant, Diana? Not what’s advantageous or proper or expected… but what do you actually want?”
The question hung heavily in the air. Diana stared at her hands, trying to formulate an answer that would satisfy her twin’s fierce protectiveness without causing a scene.
“I want to do my duty to the family,” she said finally. The words were like stones in her mouth. “And I trust that Mama and Papa have my best interests at heart.”
It was definitely proper; the sort of thing any well-bred young lady should say. But she noticed Jane’s jaw tighten, the pain in Lydia’s face, and the worried glance from Marian.
“Excellent,” Lady Brandon said briskly, though Diana detected relief beneath the satisfaction. “It’s settled then. We have a great deal to accomplish. Your wardrobe will need updating, and we must review your accomplishments to ensure you can present yourself as a worthy Duchess.”
The rest of the breakfast passed in a blur of practical arrangements. Diana nodded at appropriate intervals while her mind drifted like smoke, unable to grasp the reality of what had occurred. When the meal concluded, she found herself retreating to her bedroom, seeking refuge from the overwhelming weight of her new future.
In her bedchamber, Diana moved to her wardrobe and began pulling out gowns with trembling fingers. She tried her best to focus on the task of packing, but her hands shook more and more as her fingers brushed over the familiar spines of her favorite books lined up on a nearby shelf. The pale morning dresses, and soft evening gowns lay sprawled on her bed. She stared at them and wondered if she would ever wear such colors again. A Scottish Duchess would surely require deeper, more imposing shades?
A soft knock at the door interrupted her contemplation. “Come in,” she called, expecting Sarah with tea.
Instead, Lydia entered quietly. Once more, her expression was gentle but concerned. Without a word, she settled on the edge of Diana’s bed and watched as her youngest sister continued her aimless attempts at organizing her belongings.
“Diana,” Lydia said softly, her voice carrying the wisdom of someone who had walked this path before. “Come, sit with me.”
Diana abandoned the gowns and books and sank onto the bed beside her eldest sister, feeling oddly childlike again. Lydia had always been the one they all turned to, the dutiful eldest sister who had navigated her own arranged marriage with grace.
For a long moment, they sat in comfortable silence. Then, Lydia asked in a quiet and non-judgmental voice the question Diana had been dreading.
“Do you want this, darling?”
Diana hesitated, staring down at her hands folded in her lap. The question was so simple, yet it cut to the heart of everything she couldn’t bear to examine too closely.
“It hardly matters,” she whispered finally, the words barely audible.
And it really didn’t, did it? Her fate had already been decided, contracts drawn up, arrangements made. What she wanted had never truly been part of the equation.
Lydia reached over and covered Diana’s hands with her own, warm and steadying. “It matters to me,” she said gently. “And it should matter to you.”
Tears threatened, but Diana held them back through sheer force of will. “I know you found happiness with Elias. But that was different, wasn’t it? You were ready for marriage, ready to be a Duchess. I’m not… I’m not like you, Lydia. I’m not brave or graceful or–”
“You are precisely who you are meant to be.” Lydia interrupted firmly. “And any man fortunate enough to marry you should recognize that.”
They sat together quietly after that, and Diana felt some of the overwhelming panic begin to settle into something more manageable. When Lydia finally rose to leave, she pressed a gentle kiss on Diana’s forehead.
“Whatever happens,” she said softly, “you will always have a home with us. Remember that.”
Diana sat alone on her bed for a moment as her sister’s words echoed in her mind.
