Page 44 of Duke of Diamonds
“Your Grace,” Prudence said, her voice pitched a touch too high. “What a delightful surprise!”
Fiona watched her mother’s face transform—smiling too widely, standing a little too straight.
Oh, do stop fawning, Mama. He shall not grow taller because you bat your lashes at him.
“You arrive just in time for tea,” Prudence continued, fluttering her fan. “Indeed, we have just returned ourselves. I shall ring for the refreshments immediately.”
Isaac stepped inside, offering a shallow bow.
“I think His Grace might prefer some air in the gardens, Mama,” Fiona said quickly, stepping forward before her mother could draw him into a suffocating afternoon of stilted conversation.
Isaac’s mouth quirked slightly. “A walk would be most agreeable.”
Prudence’s disappointment was plain—a slight stiffening of her shoulders, the sharp snap of her fan shutting—but she masked it with a gracious nod.
“Very well,” she said sweetly. “But His Grace shall owe me tea another time.”
Fiona led her fiancé into the gardens. A fresh breeze stirred the hedges, but between them stretched an awkward, prickling silence.
She laced her fingers together, then unclasped them again.Say something, anything.
“Pardon Mama,” she ventured at last. “She is merely... overly excited about the wedding.”
Isaac gave a short nod, his gaze drifting over the rose bushes as though they held some profound secret.
“She must be,” he said.
Fiona tilted her head, studying him.He sounds distracted. Distant. She tucked the thought away, refusing to give it oxygen.He would not have come at all if he wished to avoid me. Do not be ridiculous.
Drawing a steadying breath, she continued. “I never had the opportunity to thank you,” she said. “For making the offer, I mean. You need not have done so, and yet you did. It was most magnanimous of you.”
Isaac’s gaze snapped to hers, sharp and clear.
“It was not an act of kindness,” he said.
Fiona blinked, momentarily thrown.Not an act of kindness? Then what?Recovering her poise, she offered a light chuckle, hoping to chase away the sudden tension.
“You needn’t be humble around me, Your Grace,” she said lightly.
“Neither am I being humble,” he returned, his words as blunt as a dropped stone.
Fiona’s smile faltered, but she rallied.
“You know,” she said, lifting her skirts slightly as they continued down the path, “if I did not know better, I would think you had been forced to be here today.”
She laughed again, soft and self-deprecating, but Isaac said nothing in response. Fiona’s steps slowed.Why did he come if he has no wish to be here?
The sunlight dappled through the trees, gilding the path before them, yet Fiona felt none of its warmth.
“The weather is far too beautiful for brooding, Your Grace,” she said, striving to maintain her cheer.
Still no reply.Truly, I may as well be talking to a stone wall.She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and turned to him with a determined brightness.
“Is one’s mood meant to mirror the weather?” Isaac asked at last, a touch of dry amusement coloring his words.
“Well,” Fiona said, lifting her chin, “the weather, however indirectly, does tend to influence our spirits.”
Isaac snorted, a short, derisive sound. “Hardly makes a difference,” he said.
