Page 28 of Duke of Diamonds
“Is something amiss?”
She hesitated, then met his gaze. “I’ve changed the plan slightly. I intend to tell him outright that I have formed an attachment elsewhere.”
He nodded slowly. “And you believe that will compel him to dissolve the arrangement?”
“I cannot say. Not unless I try,” she replied, her voice nearly a sigh.
He was quiet for a moment. Then: “A scandal remains your surest escape.”
Fiona shook her head. “And an irrevocable one. I would be freed, yes—but not without disgrace. My family would disown me. I would be ruined.”
He shrugged, but said nothing.
She realized, in that moment, that she had stopped counting steps. He led so effortlessly, so precisely, that her body simply followed. She might have been walking on clouds. She might have been dreaming.
But reality returned all too quickly.
The dance ended, and with a polite bow, Craton returned her to Canterlack, whose smile did little to disguise the fury in his eyes.
Fiona’s heart clenched as her arm was reclaimed, his grip far too possessive.
“I presume you would care to dance again?” Aaron said.
She had not the chance to answer. He led her back toward the floor before the question was fully out of his mouth.
“You look pale,” he observed as they took position.
“Perhaps because I am too weary for more dancing,” she replied, keeping her tone even.
“You might have said so before we walked the entire length of the room.”
“You gave me little opportunity to speak, in case that escaped your notice.”
“Ah, but I did offer the chance, did I not?” His smile was all teeth and no warmth.
Yes, he offered. But never waited for an answer. He never did.
He moves the pieces and I follow. A puppet on strings I never asked for.
Fiona drew in a breath, bracing herself.
“I am in love with someone else, Aaron,” she said.
He was silent for a moment. Then, in a voice too calm, he said, “You seem to forget you are already betrothed to me, Fiona. What you feel, or do not feel, is of no consequence now.”
She met his gaze. “Oh, but you are wrong.”
“I am certain you yourself would not wish to be saddled with a woman whose heart is already lost to another,” Fiona said, each word clipped with restrained desperation.
Aaron let out a soft chuckle, unbothered.
The audacity.
“I believe you ought to collect yourself, Fiona. You are not making the slightest bit of sense,” he said, still laughing quietly to himself.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides, the heat in her cheeks rising quickly—fueled by frustration, by helplessness, and by the way he looked at her as though she were hysterical.
The moment the dance came to its merciful end, Fiona gave a stiff curtsy and excused herself.
