Page 102 of Duke of Diamonds
Rebecca clapped her hands while David’s eyes lit up. Both children let out happy squeals, nodding enthusiastically. Their joy was immediate and infectious.
Later that afternoon, after returning to Craton Manor, Fiona wandered toward the gallery. Her steps slowed as she approached the far wall—the same one she had stood before once before. The portraits greeted her silently, their painted eyesfixed in solemn remembrance. She paused before the vacant space once again.
Elaine’s words returned to her.
He needs to face his past...
Fiona stared at the absence on the wall, the missing frame that once held a life.What more is there, Mary? What aren’t they saying?The longer she looked, the heavier the silence pressed around her.
Soft footsteps behind her broke the quiet, followed with, “Your Grace.”
Fiona turned to see Mrs. Burton, approaching with a small, ornate key.
“His Grace wishes for you to have it,” Mrs. Burton said, placing the key into Fiona’s palm. “It belongs to the room beside the west hallway. The one with the green wainscoting.”
Fiona looked down at it, the metal cool and unfamiliar in her hand.
“He also said to tell you that he would not be back before dinner,” the housekeeper added.
Fiona’s hand closed around the key. Something inside her dropped.He truly is avoiding me.There was no more pretending. No more quiet rationalizations.He kissed me, and now he is gone again.
“Did he give a reason why, Mrs. Burton?” she asked, though she already knew what the answer would be.
“No, Your Grace. He didn’t say.”
Fiona nodded, murmured her thanks, and turned away, the key clutched tightly in her hand.
The west hallway stretched long and quiet, its windows casting afternoon light in pale slants across the floor. She counted the doors as she passed, her footsteps muffled against the rug. Her gaze lingered on the one with green wainscoting, slightly set back from the others.
She paused before it. The key felt heavier now.
For a long moment, she only stood there, staring at the door, her breath shallow.Why this room? Why now?The air around her seemed to still.
She reached forward and fit the key into the lock. The mechanism turned without resistance, clicking softly into place.
With one final breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
CHAPTER 32
The room was dim and smelled faintly of must as the door eased open. Fiona stepped inside. It was a storage room, as Mrs. Burton had said, but it was unlike any other she had seen.
Paintings leaned against the walls in quiet exile. Some were framed, others stacked without ceremony. A few had been covered in muslin, now yellowed with time. She stepped closer, eyes scanning the faces.
One portrait caught her breath.
A young woman, delicately featured, her expression soft but vivid with life. There was something unmistakable in the arch of the brow, the set of the mouth. It was not Elaine’s likeness. This girl resembled Isaac more than anyone else ever could.
Mary.
Fiona felt it with certainty. This must have been the portrait meant for the vacant space in the gallery. She looked around again and saw the same face, repeated across several family portraits stacked nearby. Mary, with her siblings. Mary, standing near Isaac, her head tilted toward him with unconscious fondness.
He had locked them all away.
Was this his way of mourning her? Not forgetting—but not facing her either?The thought left a tightness in her chest.
She moved further into the room, her skirts brushing against dust-laden trunks and a low bench. There, near the back, sat a small box. Its lid had warped slightly with age, and the hinges creaked as she lifted it.
Inside lay a collection of personal effects—a delicate hairbrush with faded bristles, a pair of ink pots, a handkerchief with an embroidered M, and a jewelry box no larger than her palm.
