Page 53 of Duke of Diamonds
“You said afternoon, dear sister, and you never specified an exact hour. It is still afternoon, and here I am,” he said.
Fiona watched the easy exchange, piecing together all those furtive glances Elaine had cast toward the clock and the door.
She had been expecting him all along.
Isaac turned to her, bowing briefly before brushing his lips over her knuckles. The brief contact sent a surprising warmth up Fiona’s arm, and she lowered her gaze, uncertain how to respond.
“I did not realize you would be joining us,” she said, striving for lightness.
“I had no choice,” he returned.
Elaine gasped, a sound of mock outrage.
“Isaac!”
Fiona let out a soft chuckle, the last of her tension uncoiling.
So this is the man I am to marry. A man who cannot dissemble even if he tried.
There was something oddly refreshing in it—a bluntness that made the world feel less treacherous.
Elaine hurried to smooth matters, clasping her hands with mock severity.
“What my brother meant,” she said, “is that since he is so fashionably late, he would dearly love to take you for a ride and enjoy the rest of this fine afternoon.”
Fiona turned a curious glance toward Isaac, catching the faint hesitation that flashed in his eyes. He said nothing to contradict Elaine, but it was clear enough he had come under duress.
Elaine pressed onward with breezy cheer.
“You likely walked or rode over, but never fear—I have had the Darlington barouche readied and waiting out front. You shall have it at your disposal,” she said, as though bestowing a royal favor.
Elaine had orchestrated every moment of this encounter.
There was no mistaking it. No coincidence lived under this roof. Everything, from the glances at the clock to the ready carriage, had been arranged with the precision of a seasoned general.
Before either she or Isaac could muster a protest or suggest an alternative, Elaine summoned her butler with a cheerful clap of her hands.
“Fetch Lady Fiona’s shawl, if you please,” she said.
Within moments, Fiona found herself bundled into her outerwear and practically shepherded to the front steps, where the waiting barouche gleamed in the afternoon light.
Elaine beamed at them both, entirely unrepentant.
“Have a swell afternoon,” she said, grinning from ear to ear before sweeping back into the house with a swish of her skirts.
Fiona turned to find Isaac already reaching for the reins, his movements brisk and economical. With little ceremony, he helped her into the carriage and climbed up beside her.
They set off at a steady pace, the clatter of hooves filling the tentative silence between them.
Isaac cleared his throat after a moment.
“Never mind my sister,” he said. “She is too nosy for her own good.”
The dry affection tucked into his words caught Fiona unawares, and a small snort of laughter escaped before she could smother it.
Isaac turned his head, one brow lifting in question.
“What amuses you?” he asked.
