Page 116 of Duke of Diamonds
Her words came carefully, and Fiona’s stomach clenched, unease coiling tightly inside her.
Whatever the cost...
“Your father is in debt, Fiona,” she said at last. “He approached your husband privately to ask for the funds to settle what he owes.”
Fiona let out a breath slowly, pressing her palms flat on her lap. “I know, Mama,” she said quietly. “I am already aware.”
“You do?” Prudence echoed, her eyes widening. Then, as if remembering herself, she added, “Of course you would. The Duke would have told you.”
Fiona lowered her gaze to her hands, folded neatly in her lap.The Duke tells me very little.
But she did not voice the thought. There was no need to open that door—not now. If her mother sensed the distance between husband and wife, she might ask questions Fiona had no desire to answer.
Instead, she lifted her chin and asked, “Is Canterlack truly threatening him?”
“I am afraid the Earl is most displeased by the delay in repayment,” Prudence said, nodding slowly.
Fiona swallowed, the unease deepening.Of course he is. That man would not forget a debt, nor the leverage it brings.
She drew in a breath and met her mother’s gaze. “Then why did you choose to tell me, if you were forbidden?”
It was no small thing, Prudence standing against her husband. Fiona knew it, and the knowledge unsettled her.
Her mother hesitated. Then, at last, she raised her eyes. And they were shining.
“I have failed you, Fiona,” she said. “I allowed myself to be swallowed whole by your father’s will. And in doing so, I let you suffer far more than I should have ever permitted.”
Fiona’s breath caught.
“I do not expect you to forgive me all at once,” Prudence continued. “But I made a vow to myself. I will no longer live in fear of that man’s temper. I wish to be part of your life, Fiona. As I ought to have been.”
Emotion tightened like a ribbon round Fiona’s chest. She had not expected this—had never even dared to hope. And yet, hearing her mother speak so plainly, so bravely, stirred something deep within her.
She had always understood her mother’s silence. The way Prudence moved about her world with careful precision, never drawing ire, never making demands. Fiona had known the cost of that quiet compliance. And though the pain of it had been hers to bear, she had never cast blame.
Only pity.
“You did your best under the circumstances, Mama,” she said softly, reaching forward to take her mother’s hands in her own. Her grip was firm, steady. “And I see that now.”
Tears brimmed anew in her mother’s eyes, glistening against the fine lines of her face before slipping, unbidden, down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Fiona,” Prudence said, her voice breaking as the sob escaped her. Her shoulders began to shake.
Fiona stood and drew her into a tender embrace, arms closing round her with the strength of forgiveness.
“It was never your fault,” she murmured. “Fate might have done better by you, had it matched you with a kinder man.”
Her mother clung to her, trembling still, and gave a soft, broken laugh through her tears.
“And you, a better father,” she said.
Fiona said nothing more. She only held her closer.We are no longer alone in this.Inwardly, she promised herself to find a way to free her family of the debt to Canterlack. But she decided to keep this to herself for the time being.
Long after her mother had departed, Fiona remained seated, her thoughts a web of regret, determination, and sorrow. The fire in the hearth was burning, but her hands were cold.
The following day, Fiona stretched and sighed as she sat up in her bed. Sleep had not come, and neither had peace. Her unease clung to her like damp wool.
By mid-morning, unable to bear her own restlessness any longer, she summoned her maid and requested a carriage. She gave no reason for her visit. none was needed. The silence between her and her mother had been broken, and now she must see for herself that Prudence was truly well.
