Page 58 of Duke of Diamonds
“Tell me, Fiona,” he said, his voice low and coaxing. “Why are you truly here?”
She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged, her throat tight.
“Surely,” he murmured, leaning closer, his breath stirring the loose tendrils of hair at her temple, “you did not steal into the night and cross London for such trivialities?”
Her heart gave a traitorous thud against her ribs. And however much she tried to read his expression, it remained as maddeningly unreadable as ever. His gaze held hers, steady and unflinching, revealing nothing. Not reassurance. Not rejection. Simply a wall she could not scale.
Why must you always look at me as though you feel nothing at all?
But he was right. She had not come merely for answers. She had come because she was scared.
Scared of what lay ahead. Of what her life would become after she stepped into that church and signed her name to his. Of what it would mean to live beside a man she barely knew, yet somehow kept turning to as though he were her compass.
You were the first to choose me when I had no choices left.
And somehow, that had made him her ally. Her anchor. Even if he was also the storm.
Fiona drew a slow breath, fingers curling at her sides as she looked up at him.
“I’m scared, Isaac,” she said softly.
His head tilted, just slightly. “Scared of what, Fiona?”
She paused. Her lips parted, then pressed closed again as she searched for the words. He waited, unwavering.
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “Of getting married,” she replied, honest.
His brow drew ever so slightly, the only indication that her answer had struck deeper than he let on. He was silent for a long moment. So long she thought perhaps he would not answer at all.
Then: “Are you scared of marrying me?”
Fiona felt her eyes widen. Her breath caught.
“Oh no,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It isn’t that at all. I’m not scared of marrying you, Isaac. The future just seems... most uncertain.”
She paused, then added more quietly, “And yet somehow, you are the only part of it that feels steady. That terrifies me more than anything.”
For the first time, she caught a shift in his gaze—a softening, as though some long-guarded emotion stirred behind his steady mask. She saw it—a crack in the armor. Something warmer. Something that looked almost like wonder.
Still, he said nothing.
So she held his gaze and gave him a trembling smile. “Is that not absurd? That I came here because I am afraid of what comes next, and still I came to you?” She dropped her gaze, cheeks warm. “I must be entirely mad.”
“We shan’t get in each other’s way after marriage, Fiona,” he said at last, sounding as though he chose each word with care. “You shall live your life doing whatever your heart desires—managing the household, hosting your gatherings, pursuing your interests. And I shall be free to pursue my own endeavors, of course.”
The reassurance she had so desperately clung to splintered into a hundred sharp pieces, cutting at her from within.
Her heart gave a painful lurch.
What does he mean—his own desires?
Unbidden, the image of Canterlack surfaced in her mind—the heated, secretive embrace with Miss Aldridge in the garden. Her mother’s chilling words echoed next:
It is not uncommon for a man to seek comfort elsewhere after marriage. Especially after marriage.Fiona felt a wave of nausea rise within her.
What have I done?
Her mind spun, memories and fears colliding with merciless clarity. She had fled one prison only to blunder straight into another.
