Page 128 of Duke of Diamonds
“It’s Mary’s,” she said softly. “Another journal. I found it in the storage room yesterday.”
His eyes moved to the book, then back to her. She could see something shift behind his gaze, something weary and wistful.
“She wrote about him, Isaac. About Canterlack. How he deceived her, led her astray.”
Isaac took the journal from her slowly, solemnly. For a moment, he merely looked at it in his hand.
“I do not need to read it,” he said after a pause. “I lived the end of that tale. But... perhaps it is right that her story be remembered fully. Her memories should be balanced.”
He walked over to the hearth and stood there for a moment, staring into the flames as though weighing something far greater than a book.
“The good memories should be honored,” he murmured. “And the bad ones... forgotten.”
Then, raising the journal slightly, he looked once more at Fiona before tossing it into the fire. They watched in silence as the flames licked at the edges, curling the pages, consuming the pain.
When the last of it had blackened and turned to ash, Isaac turned back to her, his face unreadable but steady. He came to her again and drew her back into his arms.
Fiona rested her head against his chest, her arms circling his waist.
And there, in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, she felt something new take root. Peace.
EPILOGUE
“Idaresay we’ve done it, haven’t we?” Fiona murmured, her voice alight with disbelief and delight.
The chandeliers glittered like captured stars, gilding Craton Manor in an energy Fiona had never known it could possess. Her hand rested lightly on Isaac’s arm as they made their way through the guests, exchanging pleasantries and receiving compliments with smiles both practiced and sincere.
Fiona could hardly believe it; they were hosting their first ball, and the night was... splendid. She hadn’t imagined such a throng of titled heads would descend upon their home with such good cheer. Yet here they were, and her heart swelled with triumph.
“Oh, I did not think I would live to see the day Craton Manor reopened to the public,” declared Lady Mayfield, her eyes filled with nostalgic wonder as she dipped into a modest curtsy before Fiona.
Her husband, Lord Mayfield, gave Isaac a hearty nod. “Not since your grandparents’ time, Your Grace. I was but a sprightly boy then, though I daresay I recall the splendor. And now, it is altogether transformed. Most magnificent.”
Fiona opened her mouth to thank them, but Isaac raced her to it. “The merit belongs to my Duchess,” he said, his eyes glancing down at her with warmth that still surprised and excited her. “She possesses a taste quite beyond compare. Whatever beauty you observe tonight is her doing.”
Heat bloomed in Fiona’s cheeks as she offered a gracious smile.Dear heavens, he always knows how to disarm me.
As they moved on to another group, Fiona overheard a matron whispering to her companion, “Oh, he is most unlike his late father. Quite the humble and attentive host.”
“We must thank Providence for this Duke of Craton,” the other agreed. “England would do well with more Dukes of such magnanimous character.”
Fiona’s heart lifted. To hear such words here, in the very halls that had once felt so haunted by Isaac’s past, was more than she had hoped for. Isaac had been so haunted by the fear of becoming his father. And now, even the most scrutinizing eyes of society saw what she always had: a good man, better than he knew.
When Isaac’s attention was claimed by an old general, Hester floated to FIona’s side. “You are smiling so excessively, I fearyour cheeks might never recover,” she teased, her eyes gleaming with mirth.
“Truly,” Nancy added, fanning herself lightly. “It is almost indecent how radiant you look.”
Anna, arriving behind them with her usual languid grace, tilted her head. “I say we put it to vote. Has Fiona not smiled more in this one evening than she did all of last Season?”
Fiona laughed, unable to hide the glow that bubbled up inside her. “What can I say? I am rather fond of this particular ball.”
“Fond, she says,” Hester snorted softly. “She has married the most elusive Duke in England, turned him into society’s favorite host, and tamed a parrot while she was at it.”
“Next, she shall take Parliament by storm,” Nancy added with mock solemnity.
Fiona gave them all a playful look. “Not before I finish refurbishing the west wing. Priorities, ladies.”
Just then, Prudence approached, her demeanor bearing what Fiona hadn’t seen in years. Peace. Perhaps even joy.
