Page 43 of Duke of Diamonds
Of course. It was only a matter of time before the whispers began.
She braced herself for her own name to be dragged forth, but instead the other lady’s response made her blink in confusion.
“I hear he’s embroiled in a fresh scandal,” the woman said, her voice laden with glee. “Cowardice, they say. Losing his diamond to the beast was bad enough, but now?—”
The modiste’s tape slipped from Fiona’s waist. She barely noticed.
A new scandal? Cowardice?
What could they mean?
Before she could make sense of it, one of the ladies caught her gaze across the room. There was a brief, awkward pause before the woman bent close to her companion, whispering furiously while making a show of adjusting her gloves. A furtive gesture pointed unmistakably in Fiona’s direction.
Fiona lowered her eyes to her hands, folding them neatly in her lap even as her cheeks burned.
Whatever it is, I am the entertainment of the hour. Again.
“Pay them no mind, dear,” Prudence said, catching the exchange. She spoke lightly, but her fingers tightened perceptibly around her fan.
Fiona said nothing, allowing herself to be herded back into the carriage when the shopping concluded. She leaned her head against the squabs, watching the city blur past the windows.
“Once you become a Duchess,” Prudence said, flicking open her fan with a snap, “society will forget every unflattering whisper. None of it shall matter.”
Fiona turned to regard her mother, a tired smile tugging at her mouth.
“You make it sound as though the title is all that matters, Mama.”
Prudence tilted her head, peering out the carriage window at the passing shopfronts.
“Why, of course it is,” she said. “To society, a title defines a person. It is their very worth.” She fanned herself briskly, as though the thought were as commonplace as the weather.
Fiona pressed her gloved hands against her knees, steadying herself.
And what of kindness? Of loyalty? Of honor? Are they nothing at all?
“Then what a sorrowful society we live in,” she said aloud, her voice quiet but firm.
“Oh, my own daughter, a duchess!” Prudence said, as if Fiona had not spoken at all.
Fiona barely managed not to sigh as her mother continued, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“I shall tell you something, Fiona,” Prudence said, glancing about as though fearful of eavesdroppers. “I was never truly keen on your match with the Earl. This outcome suits us far better. Smart of you to aim higher, dear.”
“I did not do this for title or stature, Mama,” Fiona said, keeping her hands tightly clasped in her lap.
“For love, then?” Prudence asked, arching a brow.
The skeptical lift of her mother’s brow made Fiona’s mouth flatten into a thin line.
“Your reason matters not,” Prudence said breezily, waving her fan with renewed vigor. “Once you marry and become Duchess, your father shall mellow. Mark my words, dear.”
Fiona turned her face toward the window, swallowing the knot rising in her throat.
They see me as a means to an end. Nothing more.
By the time they arrived home, Fiona was desperate for air. The butler collected their gloves and bonnets, and she had barely set her reticule down when a sharp knock echoed at the front entrance.
Both she and her mother turned in surprise as the butler opened the door.
