Page 61 of The Feared Duke’s Found Family

“His Grace requested that this be brought to your chambers directly, Your Grace,” Mrs. Gable said, stepping back with a small, respectful curtsy.

Fanny looked down at the dark, worn leather of the case. The brass latches were tarnished with age, stamped with the faint, elegant crest of the Hilgrove line. She reached out, her fingers tracing the cold metal before she pressed the dual side catches.

With a soft, heavy click, the lid sprang open.

Nestled in the faded crimson velvet lay a magnificent, antique necklace of emeralds and diamonds. The central stones were deep, mossy green, cut in thick cushion shapes that caught the sunlight and cast brilliant, liquid flashes of emerald across the white lace of Fanny’s chemise. Silver filigree wrapped around each stone like twisting ivy, heavy, opulent, and unmistakably ancient.

Fanny’s breath caught in her throat. She leaned closer, her fingers hovering an inch above the cool silver, drawn to the sheer craftsmanship, yet a sudden, quiet hesitation held her back.

“It belonged to the third duchess,” Sarah offered softly, her eyes wide as she peered over Fanny’s shoulder at the glittering stones. “Mr. Jennings said His Grace had the velvet cleaned, and the clasps inspected by the jeweler in town three days ago. He specifically asked that it be brought to you today.”

Fanny slowly withdrew her hand and rested her palm flat against the mahogany vanity. The jewels were stunning, an exquisite piece of history, but a strange, heavy weight settled into her chest as she stared at them.

“It is lovely, Sarah,” Fanny murmured, her voice laced with a faint, practical sigh. “Truly beautiful. But… why now?”

Sarah paused, holding a silver hairpin mid-air, a small, knowing glint dancing in her blue eyes. “What do you mean, Your Grace?”

“I have no need for heirloom emeralds,” Fanny said, turning her gaze toward the quiet garden outside the window, where autumn leaves drifted lazily to the grass. “It is not as though we are receiving callers, nor am I going anywhere that requires such a grand display. A quiet walk in the rose garden hardly demands diamonds.”

Sarah let out a soft, conspiratorial giggle, setting the hairpin down onto the tray. She leaned down near Fanny’s ear, her skirts rustling softly.

“You may not be walking in the rose garden this afternoon, ma’am,” Sarah whispered, her eyes dancing with suppressed excitement as she gave Fanny a broad, mischievous wink.

Fanny turned in her chair, her brows drawing together in quiet confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Mr. Jennings received his orders from His Grace at breakfast,” Sarah revealed, smoothing the shoulders of Fanny’s dark green silk gown, a dress that had been laid out across the bed hours earlier without explanation. “The traveling carriage has been greased and brought around to the courtyard stables. The trunks are packed, and His Grace’s valet has just finished brushing his formal dark coat.”

Fanny’s heart gave a sudden, hard thud against her ribs. “A carriage? Where on earth are we going?”

“To Lord Ashbourne’s estate near the valley,” Sarah grinned, stepping behind the chair to carefully lift the heavy emerald necklace from its crimson bed. “There is a grand ball tonight, Your Grace. The entire county is attending. And His Grace has made it quite clear that he intends to escort you into the room himself.”

Fanny sat entirely still as Sarah brought the heavy filigree around her neck. The cold silver rested against the warm skin of her collarbones, the deep emeralds settling perfectly into the hollow of her throat.

She looked up into the mirror, staring at her reflection. The dark green stones matched the rich fabric of her gown, highlighting the warm amber in her eyes and the soft flush blooming on her cheeks.

A ball.

Lysander—a man who had spent years away from society, guarding his heart and his children behind cold stone walls—was stepping back into the light. And he was not going alone. He had sought out his family’s most cherished heirloom, prepared the carriage, and quietly arranged for them to face the world side by side.

Fanny reached up, her fingertips brushing the cool emeralds at her throat, a breathless, radiant smile slowly spreading across her face as the quiet stillness of the room gave way to a sudden, soaring warmth.

Sarah stepped back to admire her work, carefully smoothing the fitted sleeves of the rich emerald silk bodice down to Fanny’s wrists. With deft, practiced fingers, the maid fastened the tiny, fabric-covered buttons along the spine, ensuring every seam pulled taut over the corset. Sarah then took the matching heavy silk overskirt, letting the luxurious dark green fabric cascade down from Fanny’s waist over the stiffened petticoats.

With two quick taps to fluff the hem and a final adjustment of the lace trim at the cuffs, Sarah handed Fanny her embroidered ivory gloves and stepped aside toward the wardrobe.

Fanny smoothed the dark green silk of her skirt, checking the heavy emerald necklace in the mirror one last time. The cold stones had warmed against her collarbones, but before she could reach for her gloves, a quiet rustle near the open dressing room door caught her attention.

Michael stood in the doorway, his small hands clutching the frame. His gray eyes were wide, tracking the travel cloak draped over the armchair, and his lower lip quivered slightly.

Fanny instantly dropped to her knees, unmindful of the rich silk gathering around her boots. “Michael, darling? What is it?”

He hurried across the rug, his small shoes tapping softly against the floorboards, and buried his face directly into her shoulder. Fanny wrapped her arms around his narrow frame, holding him close until the tremor in his shoulders began to subside.

“You are wearing the grand dress,” Michael whispered, his voice muffled against her neck. “The one for leaving.”

“I am wearing a dress for a very short trip, sweet boy,” Fanny murmured gently, brushing a soft stray lock of dark hair from his forehead. She looked into his pale face, seeing the familiar shadow of uncertainty that always tried to creep back in. “Your father and I are going to a gathering nearby, but we shall be back before you wake in the morning.”

Michael swallowed hard, his dark lashes fluttering. “Will… will the house be empty?”