Five
Sleep had abandoned June hours ago, leaving her to toss and turn like a ship in a storm. Her mind refused to quiet, replaying the evening's card game with merciless precision. The memory of Dominic hand at the small of her back burned with the persistence of a brand. She pressed her face into the pillow and groaned.
This would not do. Not at all.
The clock on her mantel chimed one, the sound mocking her futile attempts at slumber. With a resigned sigh, June threw back the coverlet and swung her feet to the floor. If her brain insisted on activity at this ungodly hour, she would at least make productive use of her wakefulness.
The library,she decided.A dull tome on agricultural methods ought to bore me into unconsciousness.
She slipped into her dressing dress, a practical garment that had seen better days, and wrapped a woolen shawl around her shoulders. The manor's hallways were drafty even in summer, and she had no wish to add a chill to her list of afflictions.
June padded barefoot across her chamber, pausing only to light a small candle before venturing into the hallway. The house slept around her, its usual bustle replaced by the creaks and sighs of an old building settling into night. She welcomed the silence, a blessed respite from her aunt's incessant matchmaking and the knowing looks that had followed her retreat from the card room.
The library door yielded silently to her touch, and she slipped inside, breathing in the comforting smell of leather and paper. Unlike the main drawing rooms, which April had redecorated in the latest fashion, the library remained untouched—a gentleman's sanctuary of dark wood and deep chairs that spoke of generations of scholarly pursuit. June made her way to the reading table, setting down her candle and lighting the small lamp that waited there.
Her fingers trailed along the shelves, seeking something suitably dull to induce drowsiness. Instead, they found a slim volume on recent Egyptian excavations. She pulled it free with an appreciative murmur. Perhaps not soporific, but certainly distracting.
She settled into a chair, tucking her feet beneath her and arranging her shawl more securely around her shoulders. The pages fell open to an illustration of ancient hieroglyphs, andJune forgot her troubles as she traced the mysterious symbols with one finger.
How fascinating that we can look upon the same marks that someone carved thousands of years ago,she mused, her mind already racing with questions.What did they think as they chiseled these into stone? Did they imagine strangers from another time would someday decipher their meaning?
She lost herself in the text, absorbing details of burial chambers and artifacts with the same intensity she brought to every intellectual pursuit. So complete was her concentration that she failed to notice the library door opening again until a shadow fell across her page.
June looked up sharply, her heart lurching against her ribs. Dominic stood in the doorway, a candle in one hand and a book in the other. The soft light caught the angles of his face, throwing his features into sharp relief.
Her spine stiffened. "Are you following me?" The words emerged more accusatory than she'd intended, brittle with defensiveness.
Dominic chuckled, the sound low and rich in the quiet room. He stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click. "I assure you, Lady June, I did not anticipate finding anyone here at this hour. I merely sought something tedious enough to lull me to sleep."
"The library is quite large," she said pointedly. "I'm certain you can find your soporific without disturbing me."
He moved toward the shelves, seemingly untroubled by her frosty reception. "Insomnia is a dreadful affliction, is it not? One's mind refuses to surrender to rest, fixating instead on the most inconvenient thoughts."
June said nothing, keeping her eyes firmly on her book though the words blurred before her. The silence of the house, the darkness pressing against the windows—it created an intimacy, a private world contained within the circle of lamplight. She was acutely aware of him moving through the shelves, selecting a volume, replacing it, his presence filling the room despite his attempt at quietness.
After several minutes, he approached her table, a book of his own in hand. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to the chair opposite hers.
She wanted to refuse. The library was vast, with numerous suitable reading spots. Yet something in his expression—a lack of the usual smug certainty, perhaps—made her nod reluctantly.
He settled across from her, the lamp between them casting a warm glow that softened the sharp planes of his face. Instead of opening his book, he leaned forward, studying the volume in her hands.
"Are you truly interested in this," he asked, his voice holding genuine curiosity rather than his usual teasing tone, "or is it merely for late-night ambushes?"
June blinked, surprised by the sincerity of the question. "I find ancient civilizations fascinating," she admitted cautiously. "Particularly how they reveal themselves through what they left behind."
"The artifacts as narrative," he nodded, unexpected understanding in his eyes. "I saw some remarkable excavations during my time in Naples. They're uncovering an entire city buried by ash—Pompeii. It's as if time simply stopped."
Despite herself, June leaned forward. "I've read accounts. Is it true they've found people preserved exactly as they were when the volcano erupted?"
"Yes," Dominic said, his expression animated in a way she hadn't seen before. "Casts formed in the ash—a mother clutching her child, a dog still chained to a post. Moments of terror preserved for eternity. But it's the ordinary things that affected me most—half-eaten meals, notices for upcoming gladiatorial games, election slogans painted on walls."
"Their everyday lives," June murmured, imagining it. "Just like ours, but frozen."
"Exactly. I stood in a baker's shop where loaves of bread were still in the oven, charred black after two thousand years. Makes one consider what we might leave behind."
June studied him with growing confusion. This was not the arrogant, flirtatious nobleman who had toyed with her emotions. This was someone else entirely—thoughtful,observant, possessing the same intellectual curiosity that drove her own pursuits.
"You speak as if you've actually thought about these things," she said, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.
