Page 82 of Duke of Diamonds
She hated the thought, hated how much space Isaac now seemed to occupy in her mind. But it was true. She missed the sound of his voice, the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t watching.
Perhaps a walk would clear her head. She dismissed the footman and wandered into a ribbon shop first, then a small porcelain shop. She bought a set of teacups, then a vase shaped like a swan. Pretty things. Easy choices.
It was the bookshop, however, that drew her in and held her.
The scent of parchment and ink met her like an old friend. She moved through the aisles slowly, fingers brushing spines, until she found herself drawn toward the section on natural history.
A book on birds. That might suit. Parrots, perhaps. Or hawks.
She turned to her maid. “Miss Jameson, would you be so good as to search that row over there? I shall look here.”
They split off. Fiona wandered deeper into the stacks.
The bell above the door chimed faintly. She heard it, noted it—but did not turn.
Until a prickling sensation danced across the back of her neck.
She turned sharply.
No one.
Frowning, she pressed forward. Her slippers barely whispered against the polished floor as she moved.
A soft scrape. Footsteps.
She spun again—nothing. Just rows of books and the faint rustle of pages somewhere nearby.
The dread was small at first, more a ripple than a wave. But it grew quickly.
Something is not right.
She began walking more briskly now, turning a corner with purpose. Her eyes scanned the shop. No sign of Miss Jameson.
Then—movement. A flash of boots disappearing behind a shelf.
Fiona stopped cold.
She turned. Empty aisle.
Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs, her breath catching in her throat. She backed away, gaze flicking left, then right.
“Your Grace!”
Fiona jumped.
Miss Jameson stood a few feet away, holding up a thick volume with enthusiasm.
“I beg your pardon. I did not mean to startle you,” she said, stepping closer. “But I found a book on parrots and exotic birds.”
Fiona exhaled slowly, her pulse still thrumming like a frightened bird against a cage.
“Excellent, Miss Jameson. We shall take it.”
As they approached the counter, Miss Jameson glanced at her.
“Are you quite well, Your Grace? You look a touch pale.”
Fiona managed a small smile. “I’m perfectly well. It must be the lack of air in this place.”
