She tried to move past him toward the dressing room, but her path was blocked by a display of ribbons.
"Allow me," Dominic said, collecting the bonnet she'd discarded. "Though I maintain it was a bold choice. Few women could carry off such a dramatic statement."
"I wasn't making a statement," June snapped, snatching the bonnet from his hands. "I was enduring my sisters' idea of assistance."
"Ah, sibling intervention. A perilous business." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Though in this case, perhaps not entirely misguided."
June's breath caught at his proximity. He smelled of sandalwood and leather, a combination that was far more appealing than it had any right to be.
"What exactly do you mean by that?" she asked, proud that her voice remained steady despite the traitorous fluttering in her stomach.
"Simply that a change can sometimes reveal what was always there, merely hidden." His gaze was far too perceptive, as if he could see beyond her defenses to the vulnerable center she worked so hard to protect.
June retreated a step, bumping into a mannequin and nearly toppling it. Dominic's hand shot out, steadying both her and the display with infuriating grace.
"Careful," he murmured, his fingers lingering on her elbow. "These shops are treacherous places."
"I was perfectly fine until you arrived," she retorted, pulling away from his touch.
"Were you? You looked rather like a prisoner facing execution." His smile never wavered. "Or perhaps a naturalist captured by a tribe of fashion-obsessed cannibals."
Despite herself, June felt laughter bubbling up. She suppressed it ruthlessly. "Your analogies are as excessive as this bonnet."
"I'll take that as a compliment." He watched as she removed the ill-fitting dress's outer layer, revealing the more sensible dress she wore beneath. "Though I must admit, I'm disappointed to see the transformation begin. It was like watching a butterfly in reverse."
June fumbled with the lacings, her fingers suddenly clumsy under his steady gaze. "Don't you have somewhere to be? A gunsmith, I believe?"
"Theo can manage without me for a few minutes." Dominic glanced over to where Theo and April were deep in conversation, their heads bent close together. "Besides, this is far more entertaining."
June managed to free herself from the oversized dress, draping it over a nearby chair. Next, she bent to remove the mismatched shoes, acutely aware of Dominic's presence as she did so.
"You know," he said conversationally, "most ladies would have retreated to change in private."
"Most ladies would not have been ambushed while in a state of sartorial disarray," she countered, straightening up with as much dignity as she could muster. "Besides, there is nothing improper about what I'm wearing now."
"Indeed not. Though I confess, I find your practical sensibilities oddly charming." He picked up the orange dress she had set aside. "Were you seriously considering this shade? It's rather... assertive."
"It was not my selection," June said, taking the dress from him and hanging it properly. "May believes it would complement my complexion."
"Everything complements your complexion," he said, so matter-of-factly that June nearly missed the compliment hidden in his teasing.
She paused, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. "I—thank you?"
"You seem uncertain of whether that was a compliment," he observed, amusement coloring his voice. "Allow me to clarify: it was."
June felt her face warm again, and she busied herself with arranging the shoes into their proper pairs. "Your Grace?—"
"Dominic," he corrected. "Surely we know each other well enough for you to use my given name?"
"Do we?" she asked, genuinely curious. "Know each other well, that is?"
Something shifted in his expression—a momentary glimpse of something serious beneath the playful exterior. "I believe we do. Or at least, I would like to."
The simple honesty of his statement disarmed her more effectively than any of his teasing. June found herself at a loss for words, an unfamiliar and discomfiting sensation.
"I shall be attending April's garden party tomorrow," he continued, rescuing her from her silence. "Will you save me a dance?"
"A dance? At a garden party?" She frowned. "I wasn't aware there would be dancing."
