Page 19 of Duke of Diamonds
“This arrived not ten minutes ago.”
Fiona accepted it, her fingers unsteady as she broke the wax and unfolded the parchment. Her eyes scanned the words hastily—and then stopped.
Craton.
Her heart gave a sharp jolt against her ribs.
Lady Fiona,
If you are still of the same mind as when we last spoke, I would see you tonight. Discretion, as ever, will be expected. The matter you brought to me requires further discussion.
Craton
For the first time in days, something stirred within her chest that was not dread, not resignation, but something far more dangerous.
Hope.
CHAPTER 7
The night was unusually still.
The city had long since settled into its nocturnal hush, and Fiona moved quickly beneath her cloak, hood drawn low. Each step along the cobbled street echoed louder than she liked, but she pressed forward with purpose, drawn not by impulse but necessity.
You are not a reckless girl. You are not the sort who sneaks out of her home like some unruly debutante from a dreadful novel. And yet, here you are.
The butler at Craton Manor answered as soon as she knocked, as though expecting her. He bowed without surprise and, without so much as a word, led her through the dimly lit hallways, past somber oil portraits and flickering wall sconces, until they reached the tall, paneled doors of the duke’s study.
The air shifted the moment she stepped inside.
The room was warm with firelight, and yet it was the man standing behind the great desk—sleeves rolled to his forearms, brow furrowed in thought—that commanded all the heat. The Duke looked up, and the intensity of his gaze struck her like a chord.
“You came,” he said, not unkindly, though not softly either. There was never anything soft about him.
Fiona gathered her skirts, her gloves still clutched in one hand. “Of course,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
He stepped around the desk, slow and deliberate, as if weighing each stride.
“I have decided to help,” he said, without preamble or flourish.
The relief was so swift, so absolute, that Fiona felt her knees weaken beneath her. She took one small step forward, then stopped, swallowing against the sudden sting that pricked at the corners of her eyes.
Oh, thank heavens…
She pressed a gloved hand to her middle, trying to calm the tremor building inside her chest. “You mean it?” she asked, blinking too quickly. “You truly mean it?”
“I do,” he replied. “Though I must warn you… a scandal might be your best course. And undoubtedly the quickest.”
“A scandal?” Her voice rose before she could stop it, and she caught herself with a quiet breath. “Your Grace, I should be ruined.”
He tilted his head slightly, one brow lifting. “You seem desperate, Lady Fiona. I am merely laying your options before you.”
“I do appreciate your assistance,” she said, folding her hands tightly, “and your suggestions. But I would prefer to attempt a safer route first.”
He nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, simply listening as she continued.
“I have already told my father my heart is engaged elsewhere,” she said, her voice quieting with the memory of that conversation. “Naturally, he does not believe me. And this… is where I must ask more of you, Your Grace.”
“Isaac,” he interrupted, his tone still level but unmistakably pointed.
