Page 9 of Duke of Storme
The question surprised her – not because of its directness, but because it was the first time all evening he had actually asked her for her thoughts, her feelings about their arrangement. For all its challenging tone, it was the closest thing to genuine curiosity about her perspective that he had shown. The irony wasn’t lost on her that his first real attempt to understand her mind came in the form of a challenge.
But Diana had spent years watching her sisters navigate the treacherous waters of marriage and Society. She’d observed the careful balance between duty and desire and knew the sacrifices required as well as the compensations offered. She’d learned that honesty, delivered at the right moment and in the right tone, could be much more powerful than any amount of strategic compliance.
“I had hoped,” she said quietly, “for a husband who might value intelligence in a wife rather than merely tolerating it. Someone who would see conversation as an opportunity for connection rather than a test of my tractability.” She paused, letting her gaze meet his directly. “It appears, I, too, made assumptions about this arrangement that might prove…optimistic.”
The silence that followed felt charged, like the air before a thunderstorm. Diana could practically feel her family’s collective held breath as they waited to see how the Duke would respond to such unprecedented directness.
For a long moment, he simply stared at her wearing an unreadable expression. Then, unexpectedly, one corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been the beginnings of a smile.
“Ye’re most certainly no’ what I expected, Miss Brandon.”
“Nor are you, Your Grace.”
“Is that meant to be reassurin’?”
Another silence ensued, though this one felt different – less hostile, more… considering. Diana became acutely aware of the soft patter of rain against the windows, the distant murmur of her family’s carefully neutral conversation, and the steadytick-tickof the mantel clock marking time toward an uncertain future.
“We should rejoin yer family,” the Duke said finally. “They might think I’m browbeatin’ my intended bride.”
“Aren’t you?”
This time, his smile was unmistakable, though it held no warmth. “No’ yet, Miss Brandon. Though the evening is still young.”
They returned to the drawing room where her family waited with expressions of carefully controlled curiosity. After a few moments of punctuated silence, Lord Brandon cleared his throat with the deliberate authority of a man broaching necessary business. “Your Grace, we should surely discuss the wedding arrangements. Lady Brandon has begun preliminary planning, but naturally, we defer to your preferences.”
The Duke’s posture, already rigid, seemed to grow more military. “I prefer simplicity, my lord. A quiet ceremony, immediate family only. No grand celebrations or lengthy preparations.”
“Of course,” Lady Brandon interjected smoothly, though Diana caught the flash of disappointment in her mother’s eyes. “Atasteful, intimate affair. We were thinking perhaps six weeks hence? That would allow proper time for the banns to be read, as well as other–”
“No.” The Duke interrupted. His voice carried the finality of a man accustomed to having his orders followed without question. “Next week.”
The stunned silence that followed was deafening and Diana felt the ground shift beneath her feet.Next week?
She noticed the sharp look that passed between Richard and Nicholas, while Elias’s expression darkened considerably.
“Your Grace,” Lydia ventured carefully, “surely you might allow a few additional weeks for more appropriate preparations? Diana’s trousseau–”
“Miss Brandon will be provided with everythin’ she requires at my ancestral home,” he replied curtly. “I see no benefit in prolongin’ the inevitable.”
Jane’s eyes flashed with indignation. “The inevitable? How romantic of you, Your Grace.”
Richard’s voice cut through the tension. “Perhaps Your Grace might explain the urgency? Such haste seems… unusual for arrangements of this nature.”
The Duke’s gaze shifted to Richard, recognizing the challenge beneath polite inquiry. “My estate requires immediate attention, and I see no advantage in delay.”
“No advantage,” Nicholas repeated quietly, his tone carrying subtle warning, “to allowing a young lady proper time to prepare for such a significant change in her circumstances?”
If the Duke noticed the sarcasm, he gave no indication. “We shall depart for Scotland immediately following the ceremony.”
Diana found her voice at last, though this time it emerged smaller than she’d intended. “Immediately? But surely… surely there might be time for a brief visit, to say proper farewells–”
His gray-blue eyes fixed on her with that same methodical assessment she’d noticed earlier. “The wedding breakfast will serve as farewell, Miss Brandon. We depart in the afternoon.”
“And when,” Diana asked, surprised by her own boldness, “when might I… when mightwereturn to London?”
“When ducal duties require it.” He replied with the same tone one might use to describe the weather.
The casual dismissal of her entire life – her family, her friends, everything familiar and dear – struck Diana. She felt unsteady as Jane’s hand found hers, offering silent support, while Marian’s expression had gone still.
