"Such as?"
"Being forgotten entirely." He spoke the words lightly, but something in his tone caught at June's heart—a hint of genuine fear beneath the casual observation.
She studied his profile, struck by how different he seemed here under the stars compared to his usual confident self. Had something changed, or was she simply seeing a side of him he rarely revealed?
"I think," she said carefully, "that those who truly leave their mark on others are never entirely forgotten."
Dominic turned to her, his expression suddenly intent, searching. "And what mark do you think I might leave, Lady June?"
The question hung between them, weighted with meanings she dared not explore. Her heart beat too quickly, her mind racing with possibilities both thrilling and terrifying. This man—this complicated, fascinating man—was looking at her as if her answer genuinely mattered to him.
Run, warned the sensible part of her mind.This is how hearts are broken.
But June couldn't move, couldn't look away from those blue eyes that seemed to see through all her carefully constructeddefenses. She was caught in a moment that felt suspended in time, like a breath held too long, like a star frozen in the sky.
"I should return to the house," she said suddenly, the words tumbling out in a rush. "My mother will be wondering where I've gone."
Dominic didn't immediately reply, and for a moment June thought he might try to stop her. Instead, he stepped back slightly, giving her room to pass.
"Of course," he said, his voice returning to its usual smooth cadence. "Though perhaps we might continue this conversation tomorrow? At the garden party?"
June clutched her shawl tighter, as if it might shield her from the dangerous current that seemed to flow between them. "Perhaps."
She moved past him, careful not to let their arms brush, and began walking swiftly toward the lights of the terrace. Behind her, she felt his gaze following, as steady and inescapable as the North Star he'd shown her—a fixed point she both yearned toward and feared to approach.
Sixteen
"Is this a garden party or a royal ball?" June asked, her voice pitched low enough that only her sisters could hear. She paused at the threshold of the terrace doors, surveying the throng of elegantly dressed nobles mingling on the immaculately groomed lawn. Her fingers tightened on her fan. "You might have warned me half the county would be in attendance."
April and May exchanged one of their infuriating twin glances before turning identical innocent expressions toward her.
"Did we not mention that?" April murmured, adjusting the diamond pins in her hair. "I could have sworn we discussed the guest list."
"You most certainly did not," June said. "You told me it was a small gathering. This is not small. This is?—"
"Delightful," May interrupted, beaming. "Look how beautiful the gardens appear by lantern light."
June narrowed her eyes at her sisters. "You deliberately concealed the true nature of this event. I know precisely why, too."
"Do you?" April's brows rose with feigned surprise.
"You feared I would refuse to attend if I knew the scale of the affair." June gestured toward the crowded lawn with her fan. "Which I absolutely would have."
May patted her hand. "And now you're here, looking absolutely magnificent, and you'll have a wonderful time despite your best efforts to be miserable."
June couldn't help but glance down at herself. The scarlet dress had been her sisters' choice—a bold shade she would never have selected on her own. The deep red silk clung to her form before cascading to the floor in elegant folds, the cut more daring than her usual attire. At her throat, rubies nestled against her skin, borrowed from May's collection.
"I look like a cardinal," she muttered, though she didn't truly believe it. When she'd first seen her reflection, she'd barely recognized the elegant, striking woman who stared back at her.
"You look like a woman who knows her own mind," April corrected, "which you most certainly are. Now, shall we descend? The orchestra has just begun a new set."
Before June could protest further, her sisters linked arms with her and guided her down the stone steps into the garden. The night air was warm, carrying the mingled scents of summer blooms and ladies' perfumes. The orchestra, positioned beneath a white silk pavilion, played a lively country dance.
June had expected to feel self-conscious in the vibrant dress, but instead, a curious sensation washed over her—confidence, pure and unfamiliar. Perhaps it was the way gentlemen's eyes followed her movement, or the appreciative murmurs that reached her ears as she passed. For once, she didn't shrink from the attention.
"Lady June!" Lord Blackwood appeared before them, his expression brightening as he took in her appearance. "You look absolutely stunning this evening. Might I be so bold as to request a place on your dance card?"
He was the first of many. Within half an hour, June found herself surrounded by gentlemen she scarcely knew, each eager to secure a dance. Her card filled rapidly, names inscribed in neat rows that promised an evening of constant movement. She accepted each request with a grace that surprised even herself, wondering all the while when she had become this version of June Vestiere—poised, sought-after, almost... desirable.
