Page 83 of Duke of Diamonds
She did not glance behind her, but even as the carriage turned toward home, the unease from the bookshop clung to her like damp linen.
Was someone truly there? Or am I simply overwrought?
Still, the image of those boots lingered. The shape of them, the shadow they left in her memory. She could hear the echo of those phantom footsteps, sharp and deliberate.
The moment she stepped through the front door of the manor, the sound of a man shouting shattered her thoughts.
“Don’t let him get away, you idiot. Catch him!”
A footman shot past her in a blur, Mrs. Burton storming after him with her skirts hitched in both hands.
Fiona blinked. “What on earth is happening?”
The butler, already stepping forward to relieve her of her hat and coat, inclined his head. “A mishap, Your Grace. I’m afraid the door was left open and the bird has refused to return to confinement.”
Before she could reply, a streak of bright green darted across the foyer. Her parrot flapped with surprising strength, his braced wing tucked close as his good wing caught the air just enough to lift him a few inches off the ground. He collided with Fiona’s skirts, then clung to the hem as though demanding refuge.
“My, aren’t you getting rather bold,” she murmured, crouching to gather him into her arms.
He settled against her chest, feathers ruffled but triumphant.
Mrs. Burton came to a halt, her cheeks flushed. “He let you carry him. Unbelievable.”
Behind her, the footman muttered, “I’ve been chasing him for the better part of a quarter hour.”
Mrs. Burton’s head turned sharply.
The young man stiffened and bowed. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace.”
Fiona laughed lightly, stroking the bird’s small head. “No apology necessary. It appears he has chosen a favorite.”
The parrot let out a contented caw as she pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
“Shall we have a look at that wing, darling?” she asked. “Perhaps it’s time we freed the other one.”
Mrs. Burton, still catching her breath, looked wary. “You’re freeing his other wing, Your Grace?”
Fiona began walking toward the drawing room, the parrot still nestled in her arms.
“He seems greatly improved. I think he deserves the freedom, don’t you?”
Mrs. Burton followed close behind. “You wouldn’t want to be too quick to take off the brace, Your Grace.”
Fiona shook her head, smiling as she settled the parrot on a cushion beside her. “He has mended splendidly, Mrs. Burton. I believe he’s ready.”
The housekeeper looked unconvinced, but said nothing as Fiona reached down and gently unfastened the brace. The bird tilted his head, feathers ruffling slightly.
“Steady now,” Fiona whispered, easing the band away. “There we are.”
They watched in breathless silence as the parrot stretched the newly freed wing with careful, deliberate movements, as if testing his strength.
Then, without warning, he shot into the air.
He flew in ecstatic, frenzied loops around the drawing room, squawking jubilantly as he soared.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Burton cried, lifting her hands defensively. “Iknewhe’d be worse with both wings.”
Fiona burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she turned in place, watching his wild display.
