"You'd be surprised," she replied, a glint of mischief in her amber eyes. "The chapter on ram breeding practices is positively scandalous."
He laughed, genuinely surprised by her wit. "Lady June Vestiere, did you just make a jest about livestock reproduction?"
"Did I shock you?" she asked, reaching past him to replace a book on a higher shelf. Her arm brushed his, and Dominic felt the contact like a spark against his skin.
"I find myself increasingly difficult to shock," he murmured, aware of their proximity in the narrow aisle. "Though you continually surprise me."
Something shifted in her expression—a softening, perhaps, or a moment of vulnerability quickly masked. "Is that a compliment?"
"Merely an observation." He moved deeper into the shop, aware of her following him. "What are you truly seeking here? Surely not sheep farming chronicles."
June ran her fingers along a row of leather-bound volumes. "The shopkeeper mentioned he had acquired some manuscripts from an old Roman villa excavation nearby. I wanted to see if—ah!"
She reached for a slim volume wrapped in cracked leather and bound with a faded red ribbon. Carefully, she untied the ribbon and opened the book, her face transformed by genuine delight.
"What treasure have you unearthed?" Dominic asked, finding himself drawn less to the book than to the expression of pure joy on her face.
"Local Roman history," she explained, turning the brittle pages with reverent care. "Look at these illustrations—floor plans of the villa, sketches of mosaics, even translations of inscriptions found on the walls." She glanced up, her eyes bright with excitement. "This was likely recorded by the local vicar. See his notations in the margins? He's questioning the translation of this phrase—" she pointed to a line of Latin text "—but he's actually mistaken. It's not a dedication to Mercury but to Minerva."
Dominic leaned closer, ostensibly to examine the text but primarily to breathe in the scent of her—lavender and ink and something uniquely June. "You read Latin?"
"And Greek," she replied, not looking up from the page. "Though my pronunciation of the latter is dreadful, according to my father."
"You are a danger to forgotten libraries everywhere, Lady June," he said, genuinely impressed. "No ancient text is safe from your scholarly pursuits."
She laughed, the sound surprisingly light and musical in the dusty shop. "What a charming way to call me a bluestocking."
"Not at all," Dominic protested, touching the edge of the page she held. "I find your intellect..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Captivating."
Their eyes met over the open book, and for a moment, neither spoke. Dominic found himself counting her eyelashes, noting the exact shade of her eyes—not merely brown, but amber with flecks of gold near the pupils.
The shop bell jangled, shattering the moment.
"Nephew? Is that you lurking in the shadows? And—goodness me—Lady June?"
Dominic suppressed a groan as his aunt, Lady Worthington, appeared at the end of the aisle, her elaborate turban threatening to dislodge several precariously balanced books as she approached.
"Aunt Agatha," he said, stepping slightly away from June. "What a... coincidence."
Lady Worthington's eyes gleamed with undisguised delight as she glanced between them. "Indeed! And what a charming one. I had no idea you two shared an interest in..." she peered at the book in June's hands, "...Roman ruins."
"His Grace was merely—" June began.
"—passing through," Dominic finished.
Lady Worthington's smile widened. "My, my," she trilled, adjusting her gloves with exaggerated care. "One could mistake you for a courting couple. Should we be listening for wedding bells?"
Dominic felt June stiffen beside him. His own body had gone rigid at his aunt's words.
"Good heavens, no," June laughed, the sound a touch too high to be natural.
"Lady June was merely assisting me in avoiding literary obscurity," Dominic added, forcing his tone to sound carefully bored. "These country shops can be so disorganized."
"Of course, of course," Lady Worthington said, not bothering to hide her skepticism. "Well, I shan't intrude further. The linen draper had the most delightful selection of handkerchiefs—you simply must see them, Lady June. I'll tell your mother where to find you, shall I?"
"That won't be necessary," June said quickly. "I was just leaving."
"As was I," Dominic added. "Allow me to escort you both."
