Page 26 of Duke of Diamonds
Fiona laughed, a sheepish sound. “Oh, do not be absurd, Nancy.”
But her cheeks were warm.
Hester, however, was watching her closely. “Can we trust the Duke for our dear friend, though?” she asked. Her voice was cautious, concerned. “His reputation…”
“Is likely little more than foolish rumor,” Nancy interrupted. “We know so little of him. And in truth, that is what a courtship is for, is it not?”
For Fiona to get to know him. Surely you do not presume she would marry the man blindly?” Nancy said with raised brows, a hint of laughter behind her words.
“Of course not,” Hester answered with a sheepish chuckle. The sound of it sent the room into quiet, familiar laughter.
Fiona remained in good spirits even after her friends took their leave, the drawing room quiet once more. The scent of lavender still lingered from the sachet Nancy had brought, and the sunlight lay soft across the carpet. She poured herself another cup of tea, her hands steady, her mind—if not light—at least clear.
But the moment shattered with sudden violence. Raised voices erupted in the hall.
“Where is she? Where is that ungrateful girl?”
The crash of a door against the wall followed, then her mother’s breathless voice, trying—and failing—to calm the storm.
“Oh, George, do calm yourself. It is not nearly as bad as you think.”
Fiona set her cup down with care, though her fingers had turned stiff. Her spine straightened. Her pulse quickened.
They burst into the room a moment later. Her father looked exactly as he sounded—flushed with anger, his mouth drawn in a hard line. Her mother trailed behind him, hands twisting together.
“What is the meaning of thisrubbish, girl?” the Marquess barked, thrusting a crumpled sheet beneath her nose.
The headline leapt out at her.A Diamond at the Center of a Duel: Craton and Canterlack—A Rivalry Reignited?
“I cannot even enjoy a moment’s peace at White’s without someone shoving this in my face,” he thundered. “My daughter—paraded in the papers like some actress on a tawdry stage!”
Fiona rose slowly, drawing herself upright. She smoothed the front of her gown, the act giving her the strength she needed.
“I have already told you, Father. My heart is engaged elsewhere.”
His voice dropped, no less dangerous for its quiet. “What game are you playing now, child?”
“Fiona, dear—” her mother began, but Fiona stepped forward.
“I am not playing anything, Father. I am simply being truthful. I love another.”
“Withthat beast?” the Marquess spat. “That reclusive wretch whose own father left him barely enough to maintain a stable roof?”
“I am in love with Craton,” she said, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Not his fortune. Not his rank. Him.”
Say it again,she thought.Say it until it becomes real.
The Marquess sneered. “You promenade with the Earl and then return on the arm of another man—what are we to believe? Did I raise you to be a harlot, woman?”
He turned on her mother now.
“Oh, George,please—” her mother began, her voice trembling.
“Silence!” he roared. “You have no excuses to cover this disgrace. Canterlack will be livid. And rightly so. We shall be ruined if he withdraws!”
Fiona watched her mother recoil, her shoulders curling inward. The familiar sight of her mother’s submission, her silence, was a deeper wound than her father’s words.
*She never fights. She never speaks. And look what it has cost her. *Fiona would not live such a life. Not under Canterlack. Not under anyone.
