Page 4 of Duke of Diamonds
Her tone was familiar—admonishing, but warm. She had been like this for as long as he could remember. Older by five years and compelled by necessity to play the role their mother could not, Elaine had a talent for mixing affection with exasperation, often in equal measure.
She had been his fiercest ally, his most relentless conscience, and the only person whose judgment he did not resent. Even now, married and established in her own world, she continued to guide him as though he were still that solemn boy dragging his boots through Craton’s endless hallways.
“Must I remind you,” she added with an arch of her brow, “that eligible maidens do not materialize in dark libraries or stables?”
“I am not in search of one,” Isaac replied curtly.
Elaine smiled with infuriating patience. “You are not in search ofanything, which is precisely the problem. Now, do go on. The musicians are preparing for a waltz, and the room is brimming with possibilities.”
Isaac looked to the dance floor again, where the strings were beginning to hum in anticipation. The crush of movement, the expectancy in the air—it felt suffocating.
But this was Elaine, and for her, he would try.
Even if I rather face a charging cavalry than a line of expectant debutantes.
“And to think I ever forget, even for a moment, how insufferably persistent you can be,” Isaac said, casting his sister a long-suffering glance.
Elaine, his sister and the Marchioness of Darlington, met it with a beatific smile—sweet, practiced, and as deceptive as it had been since childhood. He was not fooled.
He sighed through his nose and allowed his gaze to drift once more across the ballroom, past the gilded mouldings and sparkling chandeliers, beyond the sea of powdered wigs and jewel-toned gowns.
And then he saw her again.
The young woman from earlier, the one with the wide, startled eyes who had possessed the decency to look away. She was engaged in conversation now with an older woman—similar in bearing and fine features—no doubt her mother. Her expression was polite, though slightly strained, as if the conversation were not to her liking.
Beautiful,he thought, before he could stop himself. There was something arresting in the quiet grace of her posture, in thecurve of her cheek, in the way she composed herself despite whatever discomfort lingered behind her eyes.
Elaine followed the direction of his gaze and arched a brow with approval. “A fine choice,” she murmured, a knowing lilt in her voice.
Isaac narrowed his eyes. “I did not say I had made one.”
“You did not have to,” she replied easily. “That is Lady Fiona Pierce. She has been considered a diamond since her debut. Her father is the Marquess of Holden.”
Isaac gave a low grunt of disinterest. “As though any of that holds the least bit of importance,” he muttered, even as his gaze remained fixed on Lady Fiona.
As if hearing her name, the lady looked up once more, and their eyes met again across the crowded room. Her expression shifted—yes, there it was, that same surprise from before, now tinged with something else. Hesitation, perhaps. Or discomfort.
Something has unsettled her,he thought. The light in her gaze dimmed ever so slightly, her shoulders more stiff than elegant.
It was a look he recognized—he had seen it in himself too many times.
She would do perfectly for a dance.
Not because of her title or her reputation, not even because of her beauty. But because something in her expression said she might rather be anywhere else, and yet she stood her ground regardless.
Yes. She will do just fine.
CHAPTER 2
Isaac took a step forward, careful not to appear as though he were being hunted by the dozens of eager eyes trailing his every movement.
The lady in question—Lady Fiona Pierce, if Elaine’s memory still served—stood a few feet ahead, conversing with a woman who bore such a marked resemblance to her that she could only be her mother. Her profile was lovely, composed yet distant, and unlike the rest of the fluttering debutantes scattered about the ballroom, Lady Fiona did not look as though she might burst into delighted shrieks should he so much as nod in her direction.
God knows that’s already more than can be said of most here tonight.
Elaine had vanished somewhere behind him, likely gone to seek out her set of friends—perhaps to observe this interaction from a safe but smug distance. He didn’t blame her. This had been her idea, after all.
Drawing a breath that tasted of rosewater and polished silver, Isaac crossed the final steps that separated him from the Pierce ladies. The older woman turned first, her expression faltering the moment she recognized him. Shock danced across her face like lightning over a still pond, swiftly followed by a nervous sort of reverence—an instinctive response, he supposed, to encountering a man often whispered about but rarely seen.
