Page 16

CHAPTER 16

F iona sought distraction—any distraction—and found it in the form of a call upon her dearest friend, Anna.

She arrived just in time to find Anna in the front hall, her arms loosely entwined around her husband’s neck. The Duke of Copperton murmured something soft, something meant only for his wife’s ears, before pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Fiona averted her gaze, her gloved hands tightening slightly around the handle of her reticule. Such tenderness. Such ease. How enviable it all seemed.

The Duke collected his hat and gloves from a waiting footman, and after a few more affectionate murmurs, he stepped out into the waiting carriage. A brief business trip to the country, she had overheard; nothing more. And yet the fondness that lingered in Anna’s gaze as she watched her husband depart was a wound Fiona had not expected to feel.

No such kindness was ever fated for me.

She pressed her smile into something resembling cheerfulness as Anna turned back toward her, motioning for Fiona to follow her into the sitting room.

They settled onto a pair of chairs upholstered in soft blue damask. Anna rang for tea and tucked her legs primly to one side as she regarded Fiona with quiet affection.

“How are you faring, Fiona?” Anna asked, her voice pitched low in the gentle hush of the room.

Fiona managed a small laugh, one that did not quite reach her eyes.

“As well as I can,” she said.

Anna arched a brow, skepticism clear in the elegant tilt of her head.

“You are a dreadful liar,” she said.

Fiona gave a helpless shrug, her fingers worrying the trim of her sleeve.

“You are not well,” Anna added, leaning forward. “And anyone with eyes could see it.”

Fiona looked down at her lap, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle in her gown.

“Whatever my circumstances, I have done what I must,” she said quietly. “I chose my path. I must live with it now. Complaining would serve no purpose.”

Anna’s mouth tightened as though she might argue, but instead she rose and crossed to Fiona’s side. Without a word, she pulled her friend into a fierce embrace.

Fiona shut her eyes, fighting the sting that pricked behind her lashes.

Do not cry. Not here. Not now.

Fortunately, the rattle of the tea service arriving spared her from betraying herself. They parted, smoothing their gowns and resettling themselves with the practiced grace of ladies who knew how to maintain appearances.

Anna, ever perceptive, offered a smile that was almost mischievous.

“Would you mind playing hostess and serving the tea?” she asked, lifting the teapot with a theatrical flourish before setting it back down with a laugh.

Fiona let out a genuine chuckle, grateful for the reprieve.

“With pleasure,” she said, reaching for the cups with steadying hands.

As Fiona poured the tea with careful hands, Anna settled back against the cushions and said, “My husband is expecting a new shipment from China next week.” She reached for a sugar cube and dropped it into her cup with a flick. “Among the shipment is my order of chrysanthemum tea,” she added with a little smile.

Fiona’s head lifted at once, her earlier melancholy lifting like mist before the sun. “Truly?” she asked, the corners of her mouth tilting into a genuine smile.

Anna laughed. “You are like a child in a sweet shop when it comes to tea, Fiona,” she said, nudging her lightly with her elbow.

Fiona laughed with her, setting down the teapot with a faint clink.

Chrysanthemum tea… I have read so much about its calming properties. At last, I shall have the chance to try it.

For a brief moment, the simple pleasure of the prospect pushed away the gloom that had settled over her heart.

They sipped in companionable silence until Anna, with a glint in her eye, leaned in slightly.

“Have you heard?” she asked.

Fiona arched a brow in silent inquiry, her cup poised halfway to her lips.

“There has been a scandal concerning Canterlack,” Anna said, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial murmur. “He has ruined Miss Aldridge.”

Fiona’s hand tightened imperceptibly around her cup.

Miss Aldridge. The woman I saw him embracing in the gardens that night.

“What makes it worse,” Anna continued, setting her cup down with a decisive little clink, “is that he refused to show up at the duel site.”

“Duel?” Fiona echoed, blinking.

“Indeed. Miss Aldridge’s brother challenged him for dishonoring his sister. But Canterlack never appeared. Now society calls him a coward. The scandal sheets are rife with it.”

Fiona set her cup down carefully, feeling a strange hollowness settle in her chest.

How swiftly his true character is laid bare for all to see. “I try to see less of the columns these days,” she admitted, a touch sheepishly.

Better to spare herself the venom of the ton’s wagging tongues.

Anna gave a small nod of approval. “Most understandable.” Anna swirled the contents of her teacup thoughtfully. “As a matter of fact, I heard he was recently denied entrance at an event. Society now shuns him as the coward he is—a man who could not even do the honorable thing by the lady he ruined.”

Fiona sighed, setting her cup down with careful deliberation.

“None of it surprises me,” she said.

Aaron was always capable of such cowardice. I was merely blind to it before.

Despite everything—despite the betrayal, despite the scandal—Fiona found herself feeling a faint, reluctant pang of sympathy for Miss Aldridge.

No lady deserves such ruin. No matter her missteps.

Anna, perhaps sensing her thoughts, set her cup aside and leaned forward.

“In today’s column, Craton was praised for doing the honorable thing by you,” she said. “It was even remarked that he possesses the honor Canterlack so sorely lacks.”

Fiona lifted a brow, a faint, wry smile curving her lips.

How the tables have turned.

Anna reached out and squeezed her hand briefly.

“Despite everything, Fiona,” she said, “I am glad you are no longer tied to him.”

Fiona squeezed her friend’s hand in return, the warmth of the simple gesture settling more deeply in her chest than any spoken assurance could have.

By the time she took her leave, she felt lighter—as though the world outside the Copperton townhouse was not quite so heavy after all.

That lightness, however, evaporated the moment she stepped into Holden House.

She had scarcely handed her bonnet and gloves to the butler when she encountered her father striding from his study, the door swinging wide in his wake.

He stopped abruptly upon seeing her, his mouth twisting into a sneer.

“Have you no shame?” he spat, the words striking her like a slap.

Fiona stiffened, clasping her hands tightly before her to keep them from trembling.

“Still trotting about and showing your face in society,” he snarled, “after shaming me—and ruining my good name!”

The veins in his neck bulged, his cheeks mottled with rage. Not shaming myself or propriety. No, only him. Always him.

Fiona held her ground, though her heart pounded painfully in her chest.

“I still have every right to make my social calls, Father.” She met his furious glare.

“Is this how you repay me for raising you in comfort? For giving you every luxury life could offer?”

Fiona kept her spine straight, her hands folded neatly before her.

“You merely did what any father ought to do,” she said.

Her father’s face flushed an ugly red, the vein at his temple pulsing.

“Ungrateful child! There is not a sensible bone of gratitude in your body.”

Fiona allowed herself a small, cool smile.

“I must have inherited it from somewhere,” she said. “Do you not think so, Father?”

His mouth opened and closed, his fists clenching at his sides, his chest heaving with suppressed fury.

Without granting him the satisfaction of a further scene, Fiona turned on her heel and walked away.

You will never be pleased with me, Father. And I shall no longer waste my breath trying.