Page 106 of Her Lion of a Duke
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. “A tasteful, 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.
Elias spoke for the first time since dinner, his voice carrying quiet authority. “Your Grace, such arrangements seem to benefit only one party. Diana is not cargo to be transported at your convenience.”
The Duke’s attention shifted to Eias, and for a moment, the two men stared at one another with the measuring intensity ofpotential adversaries. “Miss Brandon will be my wife and my duchess. Her welfare will be my concern.
“Will it?” Richard asked, with deceptive mildness. “Because at present, your primary concern appears to be your own convenience, Your Grace.”
The Duke’s jaw tightened as he faced the collective disapproval of Diana’s family. “My concerns, Your Grace, are my own to manage. As will be my wife’s welfare once she becomes my responsibility.” His voice carried the clipped authority of a man accustomed to having his decisions questioned. “I believe I have made my position clear.”
“I see,” Diana managed, though her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears.
Her father shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly out of his depth and at his wits end with the mounting tension. “Well,” he said gruffly, “I suppose that’s your decision to make, Your Grace.” He glanced toward his wife with obvious relief. “My Lady, perhaps you might discuss the… the particulars with His Grace?”
Lady Brandon stepped smoothly into the breach, her voice carrying the diplomatic authority of someone accustomed to managing difficult social situations. “Naturally, Your Grace, we understand the demands of your position. Perhaps we might arrange for Diana to visit once she’s settled–”
“We shall see.” The Duke replied, though his tone suggested the matter was closed.
When the time came for the Duke to take his leave, he rose with the same military bearing that had marked his arrival. His farewells to her family were correct but perfunctory, perfectbows and polite acknowledgements. The three husbands rose as well, their collective movement unmistakably coordinated. Each offered a bow that was precisely correct and utterly cold. When he turned to Diana, she felt her pulse quicken despite herself.
“Miss Brandon,” he said with a brief nod, as though she were a business acquaintance rather than his intended bride.
And then he was gone, leaving behind only the scent of rain and sandalwood and something indefinably masculine that seemed to linger in the suddenly quiet space.
