Page 61 of Duke of Diamonds
Even if I am a duty to my husband and a bargaining chip to my parents...she thought, her gaze drifting to Isaac as he helped an elderly guest into their carriage.To them, I am simply Fiona. And I am loved.
That thought, at least, she would carry with her into whatever this new life would bring.
A half hour later, the carriage rumbled to a halt before Craton Manor, and Fiona leaned forward, peering through the window as the driver descended. It was the first time she had seen it in daylight. The great stone façade loomed high and pale against the overcast sky, its windows shadowed and shutters drawn.
The front lawn was neat, but the hedges bore the trimmed stiffness of something maintained, not loved. And though the hour was early yet, a gloom seemed to hover about the place.
She frowned slightly.Why does it feel so... heavy?
The butler was already waiting as the footman opened the carriage door. He stepped forward and opened the great oak doors without a word.
“Fiona,” Isaac said, offering his hand to help her descend, “this is Mr. Everett, my butler.”
Mr. Everett bowed. “Your Grace. Welcome to Craton Manor.” He was respectful, but reserved. Fiona returned the bow with a polite nod, but her gaze flitted toward the entryway behind him.
They stepped inside. The foyer was large, its vaulted ceiling impressive, but the space was dim, cloaked in brown draperies and shadowed corners. The sconces on the walls gave off a weak light, and the stained-glass windows on either side of the stairwell let in only slivers of sunshine.
It feels more like a mausoleum than a home.
The gathered servants bowed in unison, and Fiona’s eyes were quickly drawn to a middle-aged woman standing just apart from the rest. She had round, rosy cheeks and bright green eyes that lit up warmly when their gazes met.
“Mrs. Burton,” Isaac said, gesturing toward the woman, “this is the Duchess.”
The housekeeper stepped forward with a warm smile and curtsied. “Your Grace. We’ve been expecting you.”
For the first time since they’d arrived, Fiona felt a sense of welcome stir within her. Before she could respond, Isaac turned to Mrs. Burton again. “Will you kindly show her to herchambers?” Then, without another word, he turned back to Fiona. “I shall see you later. Good day.”
Fiona blinked. “Oh. Yes... I... good day.”
Then he was gone.
She stood there for a moment, feeling the silence close in around her. The servants slowly dispersed, and she caught a footman giving her a pitying look.
Mrs. Burton touched her arm gently. “Shall I show you the way, Your Grace?”
Fiona nodded, but her thoughts were still lingering on her husband’s unexpected abandonment.
What sort of marriage have I gotten myself into?
CHAPTER 21
“You are in excellent hands with Mrs. Burton. She will guide you through your responsibilities as Duchess,” Isaac said, placing his knife precisely at the edge of his plate, as if the conversation itself required structure.
Fiona kept her eyes on the roasted pheasant before her, which, while perfectly browned and artfully garnished, might as well have been boiled boot leather for all the appetite she could muster. She shifted in her seat, the fine silk of her gown rustling faintly against the upholstery.
He had not even looked back when he left her with the housekeeper. Not a word, not a gesture. Just a firm, formal,dutifulinstruction and gone, as if she’d been another parcel delivered to the staff.
Now here he sat, calm and composed, eating as though it were any other evening. As though this were not their wedding night. As though he hadn’t spent the entire day being...efficient.
Am I a wife or merely a new fixture to be catalogued and instructed?
She set her knife down with a little more force than necessary, her fingers now resting stiffly against the linen. “Indeed,” she murmured, eyes still on the pheasant. Perhaps he would move on to a less galling subject.
He took a sip from his wine, then continued, “Craton has not had a Duchess in some time. You must pardon the fact that there will be quite a great deal on your shoulders now.”
Fiona’s shoulders drew ever so slightly upward, then settled, but her spine stayed rigid. She drew a slow breath, counted to three in her head, and replied, “I understand.”
That, surely, was enough. Enough to indicate she had heard, that she was aware, that she woulddo her duty, as every Pierce woman was trained from birth to do.
