"How in God's name did I miss dinner?" June muttered to herself as she rummaged through the pantry shelves. Her stomach answered with an embarrassingly loud growl, as if to emphasize the severity of her neglect.
This was the third time this month she'd become so absorbed in a book that she'd forgotten to eat. Her mother would have been appalled—a proper lady always attended meals, if only to maintain appearances. But June had never been particularly concerned with being proper, especially not when Mayan temples and ancient civilizations beckoned from the pages of her latest literary acquisition.
The kitchen was mercifully deserted at this hour, the staff long since retired to their quarters. A single candle cast elongated shadows across the flagstone floor, making the familiar space seem almost mysterious. June moved with practiced stealth, having embarked on similar midnight foraging expeditions since childhood.
She found a loaf of bread, still fresh enough to be appealing, and a wedge of cheese that had survived the evening's dinner service. A quick search yielded a small portion of ham as well—not the finest cuts, which would have been served upstairs, but perfectly acceptable for her purposes. She arranged her findings on a small wooden board and sliced the cheese with the precision of someone who valued efficiency over ceremony.
Her stomach growled again, more insistently this time.
"Yes, yes, I hear you," she whispered. "Patience is a virtue, even for digestive organs."
She should have known better than to begin reading that treatise on ancient Mayan civilization just before dinner. But the illustrations of their temples had been so extraordinary, the descriptions of their astronomical calculations so fascinating, that she'd found herself unable to stop turning pages. By the time she'd looked up, the dinner gong had long since sounded, and she'd decided it would be less disruptive to remain absent than to arrive scandalously late.
June ventured back into the pantry in search of something sweet to complete her improvised meal. An apple caught her eye, its red skin gleaming in the candlelight. She reached for it, balancing it atop her carefully arranged bread, ham, and cheese.
When she emerged from the pantry, the apple precariously perched, a tall figure stood silhouetted against the kitchen's far wall.
June gasped, startled so thoroughly that her grip loosened. The bread tumbled to the floor, followed by the ham. Only the cheese and apple remained in her grasp, the former by mere chance, the latter pinned against her chest.
"I believe you've dropped something," said a voice she knew all too well—deep, rich, and infuriatingly amused.
She squinted in the dim light, though she hardly needed visual confirmation. "Your Grace," she said flatly. "What are you doing here?"
Dominic stepped forward, the candlelight revealing his features—the sharp angle of his jaw, the subtle curve of his lips as they formed a smile that was equal parts charm and challenge. He wore no coat, just a white shirt with the collar open and sleeves rolled to the elbows, and dark breeches. His hair was slightly mussed, as if he'd been running his hands through it.
"What do you think?" he asked, bending to retrieve her fallen bread. He dusted it off with a gesture that somehow managed to be both fastidious and casual.
June frowned, setting the cheese and apple on the table with more force than necessary. "Are you following me? Because if this is some sort of game?—"
"I assure you, Lady June, I did not anticipate finding you here." He placed the bread beside her other items, then leaned against the table, crossing his ankles in a posture of perfect ease. "I couldn't sleep and came looking for a cup of milk."
She raised an eyebrow. "A cup of milk? A duke wandering the hallways at midnight in search of milk, when you could easily have rung for your valet? That seems rather... pedestrian."
"Does it?" He tilted his head, studying her with an intensity that made her skin warm despite the kitchen's coolness. "I prefer to allow those who serve me to rest at night so they may work with full alertness by day."
The simple statement, delivered without pretension, caught June off guard. It was the sort of consideration that she herself practiced—and the last thing she expected from the Duke of Ice. She found herself reassessing him, if only slightly.
"That's... unexpectedly thoughtful," she admitted grudgingly.
"You needn't sound so surprised. I am capable of consideration." He glanced at her makeshift meal. "Though it seems you're the one in need of nourishment. Did you truly miss dinner entirely?"
June busied herself with rearranging the food, uncomfortable with his scrutiny. "I was reading. I lost track of time."
"It must have been quite the book." His voice held genuine curiosity now, the teasing edge temporarily set aside. "What was so fascinating that you couldn't bear to leave it?"
She glanced up, searching his face for signs of mockery, but found none. "A treatise on Mayan civilization. Their calendar system was remarkably sophisticated for a culture that—" Shestopped herself, suddenly aware that she was about to launch into a lecture. "I've always had a tendency to lose myself in books."
"So I've observed. First Egyptian hieroglyphs, now Mayan temples. Your interests are admirably diverse." Dominic moved toward a cupboard, retrieving a small pot that he filled with milk from a covered jug. "Do you find country life provides sufficient intellectual stimulation? Or do you prefer London's libraries and lecture halls?"
June watched him set the pot on a hook above the low-burning kitchen fire, his movements betraying familiarity with such domestic tasks—another surprise. "Why the sudden interest in my preferences, Your Grace? You've never seemed particularly concerned with them before."
Dominic turned, his expression unreadable in the half-light. "Perhaps I'm making conversation."
"Perhaps," June said, "but I don't believe that for a moment. Something has changed." She crossed her arms. "What is it?"
He regarded her for a long moment, the silence stretching between them like a tangible thing. Then he sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.
"When were you going to tell me that we had met before?" he asked quietly.
