"Your Grace!" Lady Worthington called, waving her fan with enthusiasm that made the feathers on her turban quiver. "How fortunate we are to have you join us. We were just discussing the possibility of a card game before dinner. Would you not agree it's the perfect amusement for such an afternoon?"
Dominic turned, his gaze finding June's immediately, as if drawn by some invisible force. A small smile played at the corner of his mouth, and June felt heat rise to her cheeks.
"Cards would be most diverting," he replied smoothly, crossing the room with an easy grace that made several ladies straighten in their seats.
August followed, grinning at June in a way that suggested he had no idea of the history between his friend and his sister. "Excellent idea, Lady Worthington. What shall we play? Whist? Commerce?"
"Whist, I think," their aunt declared. "It requires strategy and partnership—the foundations of any successful relationship, would you not agree, Your Grace?"
June barely suppressed a groan. Her aunt's subtlety was on par with a charging bull.
"Indeed," Dominic replied, his eyes never leaving June's face. "Though I find the best partnerships often form unexpectedly."
Lady Worthington practically vibrated with delight. "Then we must arrange the tables at once! Let me see..." She surveyed the room with tactical precision. "Lady June, you shall partner with the Duke of Icemere. Lord August, you may join me. The Bickinghams can form the other pair at your table."
June's stomach dropped. It was the most transparent of maneuvers, so blatant that several people exchanged knowing glances. Trapped by the rigid expectations of politeness, June could do nothing but incline her head in agreement.
"As you wish, Aunt," she said, her voice cool despite the riot of emotions beneath her composed exterior.
The card tables were arranged with efficiency born of long practice. June found herself seated opposite Dominic, with the portly Sir Bickingham and his rail-thin wife completing their foursome. August winked at June before joining their aunt at a neighboring table.
"I hope you play a decent hand, Lady June," Dominic remarked as he shuffled the cards with practiced ease. "I find I've developed a competitive streak during my time on the Continent."
"How fortunate," June replied tartly, "as I've never needed to develop one. Mine came naturally."
Something sparked in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or surprise. "Then we shall be well-matched."
The cards were dealt, and the game began. June picked up her hand, mentally cataloging the cards and plotting strategy. She had always been good at whist—it required the sort of analytical thinking she excelled at—but she had never expected to find a partner who seemed to read her mind.
From the first trick, it became clear that she and Dominic possessed an uncanny synchronicity. He led with exactly the cards she would have chosen; she responded with plays that supported his strategy as if they'd discussed it beforehand. They communicated in half-sentences and brief glances that somehow conveyed entire tactical discussions.
"The nine?" he asked, raising an eyebrow when she played an unexpected card.
"Trust me," she replied simply.
And he did, following her lead without question. Three tricks later, when her strategy became clear, he gave her a look of such genuine admiration that she nearly forgot to collect the winning cards.
The Bickinghams, outmatched and increasingly flustered, exchanged confused glances as June and Dominic systematically dismantled their defense.
"I believe that's game," Dominic announced after their fifth consecutive trick, laying down his final card with an understated flourish.
"Already?" Lady Bickingham asked, blinking in surprise. "But we've hardly begun."
"On the contrary," June said, gathering the cards together. "We've been playing for nearly half an hour."
Murmurs spread around the room as other players noticed their early victory. June caught snippets of comments—"never seen such coordination," "as if they've played together for years"—and felt oddly proud.
"Another round?" Sir Bickingham suggested, though his expression suggested he'd rather face a firing squad.
"I think Lady June and I have proved our point," Dominic said, rising from his chair. He extended his hand to June with a slight bow. "Perhaps a turn about the room instead?"
June hesitated only a moment before placing her hand in his. As she stood, his other hand came to rest briefly at the small of her back, guiding her away from the table. The touch was light, almost negligible through the layers of her dress, yet it sent a jolt through her body that made her breath catch.
His fingers lingered just a moment too long, the pressure just a fraction too intimate. In that brief contact was something far more dangerous than their kiss had been—a recognition, an understanding, a compatibility that neither of them had anticipated.
When he removed his hand, June felt its absence like a physical ache. She glanced up at him, surprised to find his expression as unsettled as she felt. For all his practiced charm, for all her determined aloofness, that simple touch had revealed a truth neither was prepared to acknowledge: they fit together perfectly.
And that was terrifying.
