Page 59 of Duke of Storme
The realization should have terrified her, especially with her sisters’ warnings still ringing in her ears. Instead, it felt like recognizing something she’d known but hadn’t been brave enough to name.
Diana closed the sketchbook and held it against her chest, feeling her heart race beneath her ribs. Her sisters’ concerns was understandable, but Diana found herself filled with hope rather than fear. They had time – years, if needed – to learn to love each other properly.
But as she sat there in the dying firelight, surrounded by the ancient stones of Storme Castle, Diana began to wonder if perhaps some risks were worth taking. If perhaps learning to love bravely was part of learning to live fully.
The man she’d tried to understand through charcoal and paper wasn’t just her husband anymore. He was the person she was falling in love with, despite every rational reason she shouldn’t.
And for the first time since arriving at Storme Castle, Diana found herself hoping that maybe – just maybe – she wasn’t the only one falling.
CHAPTER 18
“Your Grace, the MacPherson carriage is approaching the main drive.”
Diana smoothed her palms over the midnight blue silk of her gown, the fabric whispering against her skin like a promise. The deep color made her pale complexion luminous, brought out the rich brown of her eyes, and when she’d caught sight of herself in the mirror earlier, she’d barely recognized the composed Duchess staring back.
“Thank you, Agnes. Are the footmen positioned at the entrance?”
“Aye, Your Grace. Just as ye instructed.”
Through the tall windows of the great hall, Diana could see the first of the evening’s guests making their way up the winding drive. Lord MacPherson’s ornate carriage led a procession that would soon include every influential landowner within fiftymiles – all coming to see the English girl who had dared marry the Highland Duke.
“Breathe,” she whispered to herself, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders. Tonight would prove everything – to them, to Finn, and perhaps most importantly, to herself.
“Nervous, dearest?” Lydia appeared at her elbow, resplendent in emerald silk that complemented her fair coloring.
“Terrified,” Diana admitted with a small smile. “But in the most exhilarating way.”
Jane joined them, her own gown of deep burgundy making her look every inch the formidable Duchess of Myste. “You look magnificent, Diana. Like you were born to command this castle.”
“I hope I can live up to that assessment,” Diana replied, watching as more carriages appeared on the horizon.
“You will,” Jane said with characteristic certainty. “You already have.”
The first guests reached the entrance, and Diana took her position at the top of the staircase with her sisters flanking her like sentinels. From this vantage point, she could see Finn in the drawing room. His arms were folded across his broad chest and his gray-blue eyes fixed on her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.
“Lord and Lady MacPherson,” the footman announced as the elderly couple climbed the stone steps.
“Lord MacPherson, Lady MacPherson,” Diana said, her voice carrying easily through the great hall. “Welcome to Storme Castle. We are delighted you could join us this evening.”
Lady MacPherson’s sharp eyes cataloged every detail of Diana’s appearance, from the elegant arrangement of her hair to the confident set of her shoulders. “Your Grace. How lovely ye look. That gown is quite strikin’.”
“Thank you. Mrs. MacAlpin suggested the color would suit the Highland evening. I believe she was right.”
“Indeed, she was,” Lord MacPherson agreed, his weathered face breaking into an approving smile. “Ye’ve chosen well, lassie. Blue has always been a color of power in these parts.”
“Then I hope to live up to its reputation,” Diana replied with just enough warmth to charm without seeming eager.
As the guests continued to arrive, Diana found herself settling into a rhythm that felt increasingly natural. Lord Cameron’s wife complimented the castle’s decorations, and Diana smoothly credited Mrs. Glenwright’s excellent taste. Young Mr. Douglas asked about the estate’s recent improvements, and Diana drew on the knowledge she’d gained during her weeks of careful observation.
“The tenant cottages have been completely renovated,” she said, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing footman. “His Grace believed that prosperous tenants make for a prosperous estate. The results have been quite remarkable.”
“And what do ye think of Highland life, Your Grace?” asked Mrs. Campbell, a woman known for her sharp tongue and sharper opinions. “Is it very different from what ye’re accustomed to in London?”
Diana felt the subtle hush that fell over the nearby guests, the way conversations paused as people strained to hear her response. This was the test, she realized. This was the moment they would judge whether she was worthy of the title she bore.
“Different, yes,” she said, meeting Mrs. Campbell’s gaze directly. “But not foreign. There’s an honesty to Highland society that I find refreshing. People say what they mean and value substance over superficial pleasantries. It’s been... liberating, actually.”
“Liberatin’?” Mrs. Campbell’s eyebrows rose.
