June nodded, already moving toward the tree line where the meadow met the forest. Her mind, ever curious, had latched onto the possibility of historical discovery as a welcome distraction from thoughts of Dominic Blake and silver-blue dresses.
Ancient ruins cannot break your heart,she told herself firmly. They merely exist, waiting to be understood by those who care to look.
And if part of her hoped that her sisters were right—that Dominic might see her, truly see her, at the garden ball—well, that was a secret she would keep to herself.
"What exactly did you drag me out here for?" Dominic asked, ducking beneath a low-hanging branch as he followed August through the wooded path. The question had been building since they'd left Stone's estate, but he'd held his tongue until now, hoping for some explanation that would justify abandoning a perfectly good book for this impromptu expedition into the increasingly gloomy afternoon.
"I am here to find my wife," Theo replied from ahead, not bothering to turn around. He moved with the easy confidence of a man who knew precisely where he was going and why.
August glanced back at Dominic, amusement dancing in his eyes. "And I am here to find my sisters. Three unaccompanied ladies in the countryside—even if two of them are duchesses—is cause for brotherly concern."
"Then what am I doing here?" Dominic pressed, irritation creeping into his voice as he sidestepped a muddy patch in the trail.
"Perhaps fate brought you here for a reason," August suggested, his tone deliberately casual but his meaning anything but.
Dominic rolled his eyes. "Fate," he muttered under his breath.
What could fate possibly have in store for me besides misery?The thought surfaced unbidden, bitter as gall. His gaze drifted to the sky, where clouds had gathered like a promise of things to come—dark, ominous, and inevitable. Like his future. Like his bloodline's curse.
The path widened, leading them into the meadow that Theo had described. Dominic scanned the open space, his eyes automatically searching for a particular figure among those seated beneath the great oak at the center.
Two women, not three. His heart performed an unexpected, troublesome lurch.
May and April sat on a checkered blanket, nibbling at what appeared to be tarts, completely unaware of the weather'sdarkening mood. They looked up as the men approached, their expressions shifting from surprise to delight. But Dominic barely noticed their warm greetings. His attention remained fixed on the absence he felt more keenly than he cared to admit.
"Where is June?" August asked, voicing the question that had lodged in Dominic's throat.
April waved her hand dismissively. "She found our picnic boring and wandered off. She'll return shortly, I'm sure."
Dominic looked up at the sky again. The clouds had thickened, deepening from pearl to slate. A distant rumble of thunder confirmed his suspicions. "A storm is coming," he said, unable to keep the concern from his voice.
August shrugged. "June has survived worse than a little rain."
"She mentioned something about seeking an old church nearby," May offered, gathering up plates with Logan's assistance. "She was quite excited about the prospect."
Dominic's jaw clenched so tightly he felt a muscle twitch in his cheek. "Of all the places to choose for a picnic, you duchesses had to come here." The words emerged sharper than intended, but he couldn't temper them. Not with the knowledge of what lay beyond the tree line.
April frowned, clearly confused by his vehemence. "I don't understand your concern. It's a lovely spot."
"Lovely, yes, and adjacent to an ancient ruin that's been decaying for three hundred years," Dominic retorted. "The last time I visited, half the roof had collapsed. One good storm could bring down what remains."
Understanding dawned on the faces around him. Theo glanced at the sky, his expression growing grave. "We should return to the carriage immediately."
As if to punctuate his words, the first drops of rain began to fall—fat, heavy drops that promised more to follow.
"Logan and I will escort the ladies back," Theo decided, helping April to her feet. "You and August find June before this drizzle becomes a downpour."
Dominic didn't wait for further discussion. He strode toward the tree line, August hurrying to catch up. The path June must have taken was barely visible, little more than a game trail winding through the underbrush. Dominic followed it with single-minded determination, ignoring the branches that snagged at his coat and the increasing tempo of rain pattering through the leaves above.
"I've never seen you so concerned about my sister's welfare before," August remarked as they pushed deeper into the woods.
Dominic ignored the observation. "How far is this church?"
"Not far. Just beyond that rise." August pointed ahead. "Though I'm not convinced June is in any real danger. She's remarkably self-sufficient."
"Self-sufficient doesn't stop a stone wall from collapsing on one's head," Dominic muttered.
They crested the small hill, and there it stood—what remained of St. Bartholomew's Church, its walls partly reclaimed by ivy, its windows empty sockets staring blankly at the forest around it. Even in its decay, it maintained a certain dignity, a reminder of faith outlasting its physical vessel.
