Page 18 of Duke of Storme
How to make this place ours, not simply mine or his
How to survive a man who mistakes quietness for meekness
How to command attention when necessary
How to prove that being built for something and choosing it are entirely different matters
She paused. Her charcoal hovered above the page as her husband’s words echoed once more through her mind. Then, with deliberate strokes, she added one final line:
How to make him see how wrong about it all he truly is
Diana set down her charcoal and studied her list in the flickering candlelight. These weren’t simply goals – they were declarations of war against every assumption that had shaped her life up tonow. Against her parents’ expectations, society’s limitations, and most importantly, against her husband’s casual dismissal of her capabilities.
The shy, reserved Diana who had accepted her fate without protest, was gone. She dissolved in the Highland mist that surrounded this ancient fort. In her place sat the Duchess of Storme, and she was only starting to discover that she had quite a lot to say.
Tomorrow, she would begin proving exactly what shewasbuilt for. And Finn Hurriton would soon discover that the quiet one could emit a roar that shook the very foundations of Storme Castle when circumstance demanded it.
CHAPTER 7
“The stables are just past the kitchen garden, Your Grace.”
Diana looked up to find a young maid – she couldn’t have been more than sixteen – watching her with curious eyes from beneath a mobcap that had seen better days. Unlike the other servants who seemed to vanish the moment they spotted her, this girl lingered, shifting her weight from foot to foot as if working up the courage to speak to her new mistress.
“Thank you,” Diana said gently, noting how the girl’s face lit up at the simple acknowledgement. “What’s your name?”
“Och!” The girl dropped into a hasty curtsy. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Your Grace. I’m Morag. I help in the kitchens mostly, but Mrs. Glenwright has me runnin’ messages about the castle too sometimes.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Morag.” Diana found herself smiling – the first genuine smile she’d felt since the day of her wedding. “Have you worked here long?”
“Three years now, Your Grace. My father tends the sheep on the north pasture.” Morag’s initial shyness was now giving way to enthusiasm. “Are ye really going for a ride? Agnes mentioned ye asked about the horses yesterday.”
Diana blinked. “Agnes?”
“She works in the stables with Mr. Calder. Said ye seemed different from… well, from what we expected.” Morag caught herself and crimson flooded her cheeks. “Not that we expected anythin’ in particular! That is–”
“It’s quite all right,” Diana assured her. “I imagine my arrival has been the subject of some discussion.”
“Aye, well…” Morag twisted her hands in her apron. “We just want to know if ye’ll be stayin’. His Grace… he doesn’t often… that is, people don’t usually…”
