Page 89 of Duke of Diamonds
She beamed at him, clearly pleased, then moved on.
They’d toured nearly every room by now. She spoke with such certainty about the design choices, the fabrics she’d commissioned, the subtle shifts in color that gave each room a new life.
But Isaac barely retained half of what she said.
Because he kept watching her.
The way she moved, the way her hands fluttered when she grew excited, the flush of her cheeks when she described the drawing room’s wallpaper debate with Mrs. Burton.
She does not simply speak—she lives every word.
He followed her up the stairs to the second floor, listening, smiling, even teasing here and there, until they stopped before a room she hadn’t shown him yet.
And there it was.
He saw it before she even noticed his silence.
One painting. Hung with great care. Framed in simple dark wood. The colors vibrant, almost dreamlike. A palace in a desert, stars above, a crescent moon shining on pale sand. It was unmistakable.
His throat tightened.
Mary.
She’d painted that one after readingOne Thousand and One Nights. Had insisted on giving it to him. Said it belonged in his study, though it never made it there.
He had locked it away with the others.
“I found this room filled with beautiful paintings,” Fiona said, standing beside him now. “All of them gathering dust. It seemed such a waste to leave them there. So I used several of them after the renovations. I think they add the perfect touches to the rooms.”
He did not speak.
“Are they yours?” she asked, turning toward him with a hopeful smile.
“I do not paint,” he said. His voice felt foreign in his own mouth.
She tilted her head. “But there were so many brushes. And the oils. All those supplies.”
He looked straight ahead. Not at her. Not at the painting.
His hands were still. His face composed. But inside, something coiled.
“Speaking of Arabian paintings,” he said with forced lightness, “I have something else of Arabian descent for you.”
She blinked. “Oh?”
“Would you like to see?”
She lit up, just as he hoped she would. “What is it?”
He offered her his arm. “Come, I’ll show you.”
They descended the stairs together. Her voice filled the air once more, lifting the grief that had threatened to crush him only moments ago.
“I should like to invite Elaine and the others for an evening,” she said. “Now that you’ve returned and the work is done. I think it would be lovely.”
He opened the door to his study. “Indeed.”
Fiona stepped into the study, and Isaac followed, closing the door behind them. Before she could ask what they were doing in his study, he reached for her hand and gave it a gentle tug, guiding her toward the large oak desk.
