Page 110 of Duke of Diamonds
What in heaven’s name...
“Yes. Although I am not certain it was a fruitful meeting,” her father replied, and there was no mistaking the edge of dissatisfaction in his voice.
Meeting with Craton?
Fiona’s breath caught. When had her father called at the house? And why would Isaac conceal such a meeting from her?
As if her mother had plucked the thought from her mind, she asked, “Did you see Fiona when you called?”
“No, woman. I met the Duke away from his residence. Fiona must not know,” George said sharply.
Fiona stiffened, her entire body going still.
What is this?
Isaac had met with her father and not breathed a word. What could possibly demand such secrecy? Apprehension settled over her like a fine mist, curling around her limbs and drawing tight.
“I see no harm in her knowing,” Prudence offered mildly.
“Oh, certainly. No harm at all in telling her I humbled myself before her husband and begged him for money to pay my debt to her former betrothed,” George said with scorn.
The blood drained from Fiona’s limbs.
No. It cannot be...
Her father—pleading for coin? To pay Canterlack? Her stomach turned.
“Do you know what that insolent Duke said to me when I asked him for that simple favor?” George continued, his voice rising with fresh indignation.
“He accused me of attempting to sell my own daughter to pay off my debts. And when that failed, I turned to him for aid,” George said, his voice thick with scorn.
Fiona could scarcely breathe.
“Well, you did strike a bargain with Canterlack, George,” her mother replied quietly. “And Fiona was promised in exchange for the clearing of all that you owed him.”
“Whose lavish lifestyle placed me in those debts to begin with?” George barked. “To keep her afloat during all those seasons she squandered, to ensure you retained your place among your precious peers and tea-drinking clubs, I bled our coffers dry.”
There was a sharp intake of breath from her mother, small, but not unnoticed.
“Marrying her off to balance those ledgers was the least she could do for me. For us. And for you, woman,” he added with venom.
Fiona’s fists curled tightly at her sides, her nails pressing crescent moons into her gloves. The blood roared in her ears, hot and relentless.
He truly believes that.
Her breath came shorter now, though she dared not make a sound.
He speaks of me as though I were a transaction. A debt to be cleared.
The corridor felt close, stifling, though she knew the heat clawing up her spine came not from the air, but from the storm boiling within.
Every part of her screamed to storm into that room and speak her mind. To let him know that she was no longer the daughter he could barter or belittle.
But George Holden was nothing if not volatile. She had learned that lesson before her marriage. Confronting him here, now, would be akin to lighting a match in a powder room.
And this was not the place. Not here. Not now.
She was the Duchess of Craton. And she would not bring disgrace upon her husband. Not for him. Not ever.
