Page 70 of Duke of Diamonds
“My, I haven’t played a duet this fine in years.” Elaine pulled her hands away from the keys. “Not since I played with Mary.”
Isaac froze.
Every fiber of his body tensed, as if the very name had pulled a cord tight across his chest. The air in the drawing room seemed to still.
“Who is Mary?” Fiona asked.
Elaine turned to him then, her brows lifting in visible surprise. “You didn’t tell her, Isaac?”
He said nothing. His gaze was fixed on the fire, the flames offering no warmth.
Elaine tried again. “Isaac?—”
“It’s nearly time for dinner,” he said, cutting across her gently but firmly. “You ought to be heading home.”
Fiona’s head shifted from one to the other, her confusion etched into every line of her face. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, as though unsure if she had the right to speak.
Elaine stood slowly from the bench. The cheer that had lit her features earlier had dimmed into something more subdued, her expression soft with understanding but shadowed by disappointment.
She reached his side, pausing just long enough to murmur, “She has a right to know, Isaac. She is family now.”
And with that, she left the room, leaving only the faint echo of the duet behind and the tightening silence between him and his wife.
Family,he repeated silently.God help me.
Fiona spent the remainder of the day with a name echoing in her mind—Mary.
The music had long faded, the pianoforte lid now shut, but the questions remained.
Who was she?
The name had lingered in the room like smoke, and the effect it had on both Elaine and Isaac was undeniable. But especially Isaac. At the very mention, he had gone still—no, rigid. And then he had vanished without so much as a glance, sending Elaine off with a clipped farewell and leaving Fiona with nothing but silence and speculation.
She had eaten dinner alone. That, she had half expected. It was becoming something of a pattern. Yet the sharp twist of disappointment in her chest still surprised her.
She had not asked for his company. Had not expected warmth. And yet, the absence of it stung.
She had picked at her food. The roast, untouched. The wine, watered by disinterest.
By nightfall, the house had grown still, and sleep did not come. She lay with the sheets tangled around her legs, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the candlelight flickering its pale shadows across the plaster.
Isaac’s face haunted her. The tight line of his jaw. The refusal in his posture.
What had that name done to him?
At last, she rose, wrapping her robe tight around her as she slipped quietly from her chamber. Her bare feet made no sound on the carpets as she passed through the darkened hallways, her fingers trailing against the cool stone of the walls as though they might offer some sense of direction.
She wandered without aim until the hallway opened onto a terrace—one she had not yet seen.
The night air greeted her with a soft chill, brushing against her skin like a whispered secret. Above her, the moon hung full and luminous, and the stars shimmered like a thousand watchful eyes. The view from this height was breathtaking, the estate stretching out below, ghostly in moonlight.
“What are you doing up this late?”
She started. Her hand flew to her chest.
A voice. Familiar. Close.
She turned, her eyes adjusting to the shadowed figure in the far corner.
