Page 99 of Duke of Diamonds
“It’s a consequence.”
She looked up at him, searching his expression. “A consequence?”
“A reminder,” he said quietly, “of when I failed to protect someone dear to me.”
Fiona’s breath caught. Her lips parted, the beginning of another question poised on her tongue.Who? When?But the sorrow in his eyes, old and worn like something carried too long, stilled her.
She didn’t get the chance to ask.
Because he kissed her.
His mouth met hers not with heat or demand, but with reverence—as though she were something breakable, something precious. Her lashes fluttered closed and the world narrowed to the press of his lips, soft and searching.
The room, the fire, the rain-streaked windows—all of it fell away. There was only him. Only this moment.
And in it, she let herself fall. Not blindly, not recklessly—but with the aching clarity of someone who had waited far too long to be wanted like this.
Let this be real. Just for now.
CHAPTER 31
He is not avoiding you.
Fiona tried to ignore the silence that had crept into the breakfast room like a slow mist, curling into the corners and pressing at her back as she sat alone. The faint tick of the mantel clock was the only sound besides the gentle clink of her spoon against her untouched teacup. She had let it go cold.
He had to leave early. A parliamentary matter. Important, no doubt. Nothing to do with you.She ran a finger around the rim of the cup, the porcelain cool beneath her touch, her spine held stiff with practiced composure.It is not avoidance.But even as the thought passed through her, she knew it for the lie it was.
He had disappeared after the balcony. Now again after the kiss. Each time she had tried to believe it meant nothing, and each time it cost her a little more of her resolve.
With deliberate care, she folded her napkin and set it beside her plate, the motion crisp and precise, though her hands ached to fidget.Do not let it get to you.
By mid-afternoon, Fiona could no longer endure the stillness of Craton Manor. She instructed the footman to have the carriage readied and set out for Darlington House.
The streets bustled with the familiar chaos of London—carriages clattering over uneven stones, hawkers shouting cheerfully, gentlemen doffing their hats as they passed. She tried to let the noise distract her, to let it fill the silence Isaac had left behind. But when the carriage stopped before Elaine’s home and she descended, she was struck at once by the uncanny sensation that she was not alone.
It was the same crawling awareness that had haunted her once before—the prickling sensation that someone’s gaze had fixed upon her without permission.
She paused at the gate and glanced over her shoulder. The street behind her appeared perfectly ordinary. A nursemaid pushing a pram. A pair of boys tossing a ball between them. An elderly gentleman taking measured steps along the opposite walk. No one out of place.
Still, unease coiled low in her stomach as she stepped forward and knocked at the door.
Just before the latch shifted, she turned her head once more.
And there he was.
A man stood across the street.
He was tall, his frame cloaked in a long coat, and though his face was obscured beneath the brim of his hat, Fiona felt the unmistakable weight of his scrutiny. Her breath caught.
Then, as if he had never meant to be seen, he tipped his head down, adjusted his hat, and turned sharply on his heel, disappearing into the London crowd with practiced ease.
The dread did not leave with him.
The door opened, and she jumped slightly, her thoughts jolting back to the present.
“Oh, what a lovely surprise, Fiona.”
Elaine’s expression was one of genuine pleasure, and within moments, Fiona was inside the drawing room being drawn into her sister-in-law’s arms. The warmth of the house was welcome, but it did little to banish the cold that had settled in her chest.
