Page 28 of Duke of Storme
“Then perhaps you’d better teach me,” she said simply.
The statement was perfectly reasonable, but something in her tone made him suspicious. There was a challenge hidden beneath the politeness, a spark of the spirit he’d glimpsed just after their wedding.
“These customs and expectations…” she continued, “I assume you also have your opinions about how a proper Duchess should conduct herself?”
“I do.”
“Excellent.” Diana’s smile was polite, but there was steel beneath it. When had she blossomed into this more confident version of herself? He was beginning to understand that his quiet wife had depths he’d barely begun to fathom.
“But if I am to meet your expectations, I have some conditions of my own, Your Grace.”
“What conditions?”
“If I am to play the devoted Duchess, then you must play the devoted Duke.” Diana moved closer, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. “None of this cold politeness you’ve perfected. If we are to truly convince them we’re content, then you must at least appear to enjoy my company, no?”
Finn’s pulse quickened. The woman was negotiating with him like a seasoned diplomat. “And if I refuse?”
“Then I suppose we’ll give them quite a different performance.” Her smile turned mischievous. “One that demonstrates exactly how mismatched we truly are.”
God, did she truly just threaten him? Quiet, biddable Diana Brandon – Diana Hurriton now – was prepared to publicly humiliate them both if he didn’t agree to her terms.
“Ye’re no’ nearly as biddable as I first assumed,” he said, and was surprised to find himself fighting a smile.
“No,” she agreed. “I am not. Though, perhaps you should have inquired more thoroughly before making your selection in a bride.”
Selection. As though she was a horse he’d bought at the market. Finn winced at the accuracy of the comparison.
“Aye, perhaps I should have. But it’s too late for regrets now.”
“Indeed, it is.” Diana extended her hand as though they were sealing a business arrangement.
Finn looked down at her offered hand, then back at her face. There was clear determination, and intelligence, and… something else – something that made his mouth go dry.
“We have an accord,” he said, taking her hand. But instead of shaking it, for some reason he could not quite put his finger on, he lifted it to his lips. The contact was brief and entirely proper, but the feel of her soft skin against his mouth sent heat racing through his veins.
“I shall arrange for the seamstress to call tomorrow after our lesson,” he said, releasing her hand before he did something truly foolish. “Ye’ll want something appropriate for the occasion.”
“Thank you. That is very thoughtful of you.” Diana’s voice had gone slightly breathless, and Finn felt a surge of masculine satisfaction at having affected her.
“And Diana?” he said as he moved to the door, turning back to meet her gaze, “Wear somethin’ that suits ye. Not what they expect. Ye’re no’ like them.”
The words came out before he could stop them. He wasn’t merely talking about her attire for the ball – he was referring to all of it. Her gentle strength, her thoughtful nature, the way she’d begun to transform this cold castle simply by being herself within its walls.
Then he was gone, striding down the corridor toward his study, his heart hammering against his ribs like it hadn’t since his first naval engagement.
What on earth had he gotten himself into?
The question echoed in his mind as he reached his study and closed the door behind himself. For the better part of his life, he’d lived his life in carefully organized compartments – duty here, survival there, emotion locked tightly away where it couldn’t cause damage. But Diana was proving to be a force that refused to be compartmentalized.
The woman he’d married mere weeks ago was nothing like he’d expected. She wasn’t the quiet, malleable Duchess he’d thought he was acquiring. She was intelligent, determined, and apparently quite skilled at holding her own in any negotiation.
And God help him, he was beginning to find that utterly irresistible.
Finn reached his study and poured himself three fingers of whisky, downing half of it in one burning gulp. Tomorrow they would have a lesson – teaching Diana how to navigate Highland society, how to be the Duchess Storme Castle needed.
But as he stared into the depths of his glass, Finn couldn’t shake the feeling that Diana would be teaching him just as much as he taught her. She was already changing things. He had noticed the way the servants smiled when she passed and how the castle feltless like a fortress and more like a home. Even Mrs. Glenwright had softened toward her, and that woman trusted no one easily.
The real question wasn’t what they would learn from their lessons. It was whether he was brave enough to let her teach him what it meant to live instead of merely surviving.
