She Slapped England’s Most Feared Duke… Then He Refused to Let Her Go

Chapter 2

The ballroom erupted.

Not loudly — the aristocracy was far too refined for anything so vulgar as noise — but the shock traveled through the crowd like a tremor through a great glacier. Fans stopped mid-flutter. A dowager dropped her smelling salts. Beside the orchestra, a young baron’s jaw simply hung open, forgotten.

Lady Harrington, who had been retreating toward the refreshment table, turned on her heel. “William—”

“The audit,” the Duke said, as if she had not spoken, “was conducted under my predecessor’s watch. If the documents are as Miss Fairmont claims — and her mathematical certainty suggests they may be — then someone manipulated official records inside the Crown’s own system.”

Isabelle’s heart slammed against her ribs. She kept her face still, but her hands folded themselves tightly behind her back, and she could feel the pulse in her throat like a trapped bird.

He turned back to her. “Miss Fairmont.”

“Yes, your grace?”