Page 12 of Duke of Storme
The Duke’s expression grew, if possible, even more remote. “Mine is prepared for immediate departure. Yer’s will take ye back to yer family’s home.”
Diana blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’ll be leavin’ for Storme Castle within the hour,” he said, his voice carrying that same practical tone he’d used during their engagement dinner. “I thought it best I return ahead and make arrangements.”
“And me?” The words came out quieter than she’d intended.
“Ye’ll remain here for the week. That would afford ye some time for farewells,” he replied, his eyes firmly fixed on something just beyond her shoulder. “I’ll send for ye when the castle is ready to receive its Duchess.”
Each word he uttered landed harshly, yet Diana couldn’t ignore the twisted logic of his decision. This was what she had asked for – time to say goodbye to her family properly. Though she had hoped they would be doing it together, not him simply.. vanishing. The consideration felt more like abandonment, the kindness more like rejection. “You’re leaving, Your Grace? On our wedding day?”
“It is the most practical arrangement.” The Duke looked directly at her as he replied. “It has come to my attention that there’s much to prepare, and ye’ll be more comfortable here, while I see to the necessary details.”
Behind her, Diana could hear her sisters’ sharp intakes of breath, her mother’s scandalized gasp, and her father’s low murmur of disapproval. But all of that seemed distant compared to the achingly hollow pain unfurling in her chest.
“I see,” she said carefully, her voice sounding strange to her own ears. “And when might I expect this summons, Your Grace?”
“A week. Perhaps two. No more than that.” He paused, and for a moment she thought she saw something flicker in his expression – uncertainty, perhaps, or regret. “I trust you find that agreeable?”
Agreeable.The word settled in her stomach like a boulder. She, as a newlywed bride, was being told that she would spend her wedding night alone. She was being abandoned by a husband who handled their union as though it were a shipping arrangement requiring coordination.
“Of course, Your Grace,” she said, her voice growing steadier with each word. “I am nothing if not agreeable.”
Something in her tone must have caught his attention, because his eyes sharpened slightly. “Miss Brandon I–”
“Your Grace,” she corrected softly. “I believe that’s the proper form of address now.”
For the first time since she’d met him, the Duke looked genuinely taken aback. His mouth opened as though he intendedto say something, then closed again without ever having made a sound.
“I should bid you farewell, then,” Diana continued, her voice carrying a politeness so perfect it could have cut glass. “I wouldn’t want to delay your imminent departure, Your Grace.”
She turned away before he could respond and walked toward her family’s carriage with measured steps. Behind her, she heard low voices – her new husband speaking with his secretary, no doubt making arrangements and discussing departure times as though he were planning a military campaign rather than leaving behind the woman who had been his bride for barely an hour.
“Diana,” Jane said urgently, catching her arm as she reached the carriage. “You don’t have to–”
“Yes, I do.” Diana’s voice was calm, almost conversational. “This is what I agreed to. This is what was arranged.”
“But surely he doesn’t mean to utterly abandon you on your wedding day,” Marian protested. “No gentleman would–”
“His Grace is not concerned with conventional courtesies,” Diana replied, settling into the familiar carriage seat with careful precision. “He is only concerned with practical arrangements.”
Through the window, she could see her husband supervising the loading of his luggage. His attention was focused entirely on the task at hand. He didn’t look in her direction again, not evenwhen his carriage pulled away from the curb and rolled toward the Great North Road.
The Brandon family carriage followed a different route entirely, returning to the familiar streets of Mayfair, where Diana’s childhood home waited for her exactly as she’d left it. Nothing had changed – the same wallpaper adorned the walls, the same furniture filled the rooms, and the same servants who had known her since she was a child continued to be on-hand.
Onlyshewas different now. She was the Duchess of Storme – abandoned by her husband on their wedding day.
“There will be no wedding breakfast,” her mother announced with barely concealed mortification as they climbed the front steps. “Under the given circumstances…”
“Of course not, Mama,” Diana replied placidly. “Why would there be?”
Her family exchanged worried glances, but Diana had moved beyond their concern. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom with slow, deliberate steps. Her wedding dress rustled softly with each movement.
The room also looked exactly the same as she’d left it – the bed she’d slept in last night, thinking it would be for the last time, the books she’d read throughout her childhood to escape into other worlds, and the window from where she’d watched London life unfold while dreaming of a different kind of future.
Jane followed her, closing the door behind them with a soft click. “Diana, please talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”
Diana stood still before her mirror, looking at the unfamiliar woman dressed in ivory silk that stared back at her.
