"There's always dancing when society gathers," he said with a shrug. "Formal or informal. And I find myself curious about how you move when not encumbered by competing fashion choices."
June pursed her lips. "You're mocking me."
"Not at all," he replied, his eyes suddenly intense. "I am, in fact, quite serious about wanting that dance."
June searched for a witty retort, a dismissive comment, anything to maintain the upper hand in their verbal sparring. But to her horror, no clever response materialized. She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Dominic's smile grew wider, more triumphant. "Lady June Vestiere, speechless? I shall mark this day in my calendar."
"I—you—" June stammered, growing increasingly flustered by her inability to form a coherent sentence.
"I look forward to our dance," he said, executing a perfect bow. "I shall have no trouble finding you, regardless of your fashion choices tomorrow."
With that, he turned and rejoined Theo, who was saying his goodbyes to April. June watched him go, her mind racing to capture the perfect response that continued to elude her.
The bell tinkled again as the gentlemen departed, leaving June standing amid the scattered remnants of her failed fitting. Mayand April approached cautiously, as one might approach a wounded animal.
"June?" May ventured. "Are you all right?"
June remained silent, her gaze fixed on the door through which Dominic had vanished. Something was shifting within her—embarrassment giving way to determination, mortification transforming into resolve.
"June?" April tried again. "We can leave if you're uncomfortable."
Instead of answering, June turned to her sisters, her amber eyes bright with purpose. "Find me something that would bring him to his knees."
Nine
What manner of confounding attraction is this?
Dominic paced the winding garden paths, his jaw clenched tightly. His mind, which was usually so disciplined, refused to focus on anything but her—June, with her sharp tongue and sharper mind, who had somehow burrowed beneath his carefully constructed defenses.
He tugged at his cravat, suddenly finding it too constraining. This attraction was inconvenient at best, cruel at worst. What right had he to pursue her, knowing what awaited him?
Dominic paused beside a marble fountain where water trickled musically over carved cherubs. He dipped his fingers into the cool basin, willing the sensation to clear his thoughts.
It did not.
You're being absurd, he told himself sternly.She's merely a woman. One of many you've encountered.
But that was the trouble. She wasn't merely anything. From that first encounter in his bedchamber—her bravado, her kiss, her devastating dismissal—June had proved herself utterly unique. She didn't simper or flirt. She challenged him, matched him wit for wit. And when she'd so effortlessly partnered with him at whist, anticipating his every move as if they'd played together for years...
Dominic shook his head and continued walking, his pace increasing with his agitation. Around a bend in the path, the gardens opened to a small clearing centered around an ancient oak. Stone benches curved beneath its spreading branches, and the late sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground.
And there she was.
Dominic stopped abruptly, one foot half-raised. June sat alone on the farthest bench, a book open in her lap. She was utterly absorbed, her profile to him, completely unaware of his presence. For once, her features were relaxed, free from the guarded expression she wore in company. One slender finger traced a line of text as she read, her lips moving slightly with the words.
He should leave. Turn around before she noticed him. Walk away and put her from his mind.
Instead, he stood frozen, drinking in the sight of her.
She wore a simple day dress of pale green, far less elaborate than the fashionable frocks her sisters had pressed upon her in the modiste's shop. Her hair was pinned up, but several strands had escaped, curling against her neck in the warm breeze. The golden afternoon light caught those loose tendrils, turning them to amber, the same extraordinary color as her eyes.
A magnolia tree bloomed above her, its waxy white flowers gleaming against dark leaves. As Dominic watched, a petal detached and drifted down, landing on the open pages of her book. June brushed it away absently, never looking up from her reading.
She's beautiful,he thought, the admission catching him by surprise. Not in the conventional way of society beauties, with their practiced smiles and artful curls. June possessed something rarer—a quiet intensity, an intelligence that shone from within.
His gloved hand clenched at his side, the creaking softly. He should approach her. Apologize for his behavior in the modiste's shop yesterday. Clear the air between them.
