Page 121 of Duke of Diamonds
She stepped out into the night. The cool air whispered across her cheeks as she wandered down the path toward the tall hedges. Crickets sang in the darkness, the rhythm of their music oddly comforting. Fiona walked slowly, her thoughts spinning.
Poor Mary. What a different life she might have had, had she not been drawn in by that wretched Mr. F. A little patience, a little guidance—and she might still be here, painting, laughing, whole.
She moved further into the garden until she reached a secluded bench framed by lavender and shadowed by a flowering tree. Lowering herself onto the wooden seat, she wrapped the cloak more snugly about her. She wished she could have been there to help Mary.
From Mary, her mind drifted to her mother, whom she was in a position to help.
At least Mama is safe now. She’s no longer under his roof, no longer within his reach.
But that small comfort was followed by a heavier thought. The debt. Her confrontation with her father replayed in her mind in harsh, vivid fragments. As satisfying as it had been to speak her truth, the reality lingered like the smoke of a burnt candle.
How will I manage to pay Canterlack?she wondered.There is nothing of great value among my belongings. Perhaps my jewelry... my mother’s brooch...She sighed and let her head fall back against the bench.It will never be enough.
A breeze tugged gently at her hair, now fallen loose around her shoulders. She lifted a hand to brush it back. Then she heard it.
Slow booted steps crunching lightly along the cobbled path. Her heart quickened.
“Isaac?” she called.
No answer.
The footsteps continued, coming from the right. Fiona stood at once, her eyes scanning the dim shapes of hedge and statue.
Silence.
Then another set of steps came. As she looked through the moonlit gardens, she caught sight of dark boots.
They stood just barely visible around the edge of the hedge.
Her belly sank with cold dread, a shiver crawling up her spine and blooming across her skin.
The memory of similar boots she saw in the bookstore flooded her mind.
CHAPTER 38
Her eyes moved upward. The figure stepped forward slowly, the fine cut of his coat catching the moonlight. He was dressed impeccably, as though he had stepped from the ballroom itself rather than the darkness of a midnight garden.
And then she saw his face.
A strangled gasp escaped her lips. Aaron.
Before she could make a sound beyond that, his hand clamped over her mouth, rough and unyielding. The other seized the nape of her neck, fingers digging cruelly into her skin.
“Did you think it was over, Fiona?” he hissed, dragging her backward with alarming force. The iron bench she’d sat on vanished from view as hedges and shadow closed around them.
She twisted against him, flailing her arms and driving her heel down toward his foot, but he shifted easily, pinning her back against the hedge wall with the full weight of his body.
No, no, no...
Her cries were muffled against his palm, her lungs tight with panic. The sharp tang of spirits was heavy on his breath, each exhale a wave of sickness against her cheek.
“You cannot hide,” he sneered. “I’ve been watching you, following you—like old times, eh? You never noticed, not really. But I saw you. Always.”
The pressure of his hand made her vision swim. Her pulse hammered at her temples.
It was him,she realized in a dizzy rush.The feeling in the street, the unease at Darlington House—it was always him.
Aaron’s eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction. “You may be married to the Prince Regent himself, but it makes no difference. I’ll always find you, Fiona. You were mine. From the start.”
