Page 53 of Duke of Storme
The question hit deeper than Diana expected. “I think… I’m beginning to like who I am when he’s looking.”
They reached the great hall, and Diana gestured for her sisters to follow her toward the more intimate drawing room where they could speak freely. The castle servants bobbed curtsies as they passed, and Diana noticed how naturally she acknowledged them, how comfortable she’d become moving amongst them through these corridors.
“Tea, Your Grace?” Mrs. Glenwright appeared as if summoned.
“Please, Mrs. Glenwright. And perhaps some of those exceptional shortbread biscuits? My sisters have traveled a long way.”
“Of course, Your Grace. Welcome to Storme Castle, Your Graces.” The housekeeper’s tone was warm and respectful without being servile.
After she’d gone, Jane settled into a chair by the fire and fixed her attention on Diana with an intent stare. “She likes you.”
“Who?”
“The housekeeper, silly. She was watching you like a mother hen protecting her chick. Servants don’t develop that kind of loyalty overnight, Diana. What have you done to earn it?”
Diana considered the question. “I merely… listen to them. Ask their opinions about the household. Agnes told me about the castle’s history, and Cook showed me how they prepare proper Scottish Bannocks. They’re not just… servants. They’re not invisible to me anymore.”
“They never should have been invisible,” Lydia said gently, though her eyes were proud.
“No,” Diana agreed. “But I was so focused on being invisible myself that I never thought to truly see anyone else.”
Jane leaned forward in her chair. “And what of the Duke? Does he see the staff as people, or does he treat them like furniture?”
“From what I can gather, he’s always been fair to them,” Diana said carefully. “But distant. Military in his approach. I think…”She paused. “I think he’s been protecting himself for so long that he’s forgotten how to simply… connect with people.”
“Protecting himself from what?” Lydia asked.
Diana thought of Finn’s confession about never being meant to inherit the title, about barely being tolerated rather than welcomed, and about every mistake being used as proof he didn’t belong.
“From being seen as inadequate,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “Highland society and London society are very different worlds. I think he’s had to work harder than most to find his footing. He wasn’t raised to be the Duke of Storme. The title came to him unexpectedly, and he’s spent years fighting to prove he deserves it. I think… he’s as much of an outsider as I always felt myself to be.”
The sisters fell silent for a moment, absorbing the revelation.
“And how does that make you feel?” Lydia asked finally. “Knowing you married another outsider?”
Diana smiled, the expression surprising her with its certainty. “Like maybe we can figure out how to belong somewhere together.”
Mrs. Glenwright returned with tea service, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics while they ate. Diana found herself sharing stories about Highland customs, and the upcomingformal dinner. She enthused over the beautiful but wild landscape that surrounded the castle.
“You sound… happy,” Jane observed, setting down her teacup. “Not content, not resigned, but actually happy.”
“I think I might be,” Diana said truthfully. “Not all the time, though. The Duke can be infuriatingly stubborn and sometimes I feel like I want to grab him by his broad shoulders and shake him until his teeth rattle!” She smiled softly. “But I’m not just existing anymore. I’m not just… waiting for my life to start.”
“What changed?” Lydia asked.
Diana considered the question seriously. “I stopped waiting for permission to have opinions. Stopped apologizing for taking up space. Started believing that maybe my thoughts and feelings matter just as much as anyone else’s.”
“And the Duke encouraged this transformation?”
“Sometimes. Other times he seems terrified by it.” Diana laughed. “I think he married me expecting a quiet, biddable wife who would smile and nod and never ever challenge him about anything.”
“Poor man,” Jane said with mock sympathy. “He clearly didn’t understand what he was getting when he chose a Brandon sister.”
“Even the quietest Brandon sister has hidden depths,” Lydia added with a smile.
“Hidden even from myself, apparently,” Diana admitted.
As the afternoon wore on, Diana found herself observing her sisters with new eyes. She admired Jane’s fierce intelligence, Lydia’s warm wisdom, and the way they both moved through the world with confidence born of knowing their own worth. Had she always been blind to her own similarities to them?
