"Will someone please explain what is happening?" she pressed, her hands clenching in the folds of her crimson dress.
August finally broke his staring contest with Dominic to glance at her. Something in his expression softened slightly, though the anger still simmered beneath.
"What's happening, dear sister, is that your reputation hangs by a thread. If anyone other than me had walked through that door—" He shook his head, unable or unwilling to complete the thought.
"No one did," June pointed out.
"This time," August replied. "But the damage is done between you two. There's only one honorable course now." He turned back to Dominic. "I will ride out immediately to procure you a special license. You will marry her at dawn if I can make you."
June's mind whirled with the speed of events. Marriage? To Dominic? Just yesterday such a prospect would have seemed as likely as snow in August. And now...
Dominic's gaze found hers across the dimly lit room, his blue eyes inscrutable. Something passed between them, a current of unspoken communication that June couldn't fully decipher.
He turned back to August. "She may be your sister, and I understand your fury, but I'll take out my own damn special license."
August gave a curt nod, as if this small assertion of independence was acceptable so long as the end result remained the same.
Dominic straightened his already-impeccable cravat, then bowed his head toward June. "If you'll have me, I'll marry you."
The words hung in the air between them, neither question nor command, but something in between. June's throat tightened painfully as silence fell in the room. She stood trembling between the two men, stunned by the promise that had just been made—a promise that might save her honor but not her heart.
For what sort of marriage could it be when the groom spoke of "doom" and her own brother referenced his impending death? What secret lay between these two men that neither would share with her?
And yet, as June stared at Dominic—at the proud set of his shoulders, the unreadable mask of his face, the memory of his mouth on hers still burning on her lips—she realized with startling clarity that it didn't matter. Whatever his reasons, whatever mysteries he harbored, she would have him. Had perhaps always been destined to have him, from that first meeting in the Oxford library years ago.
"Yes," she said, the word barely more than a whisper. "I'll have you."
Something flashed in Dominic's eyes—relief? Regret? It was gone too quickly to name. August's posture relaxed infinitesimally, the immediate crisis apparently resolved to his satisfaction.
"It's settled then," her brother said. "You'll marry at the first opportunity. Until then—" he fixed Dominic with a meaningful stare "—you will keep your distance from my sister."
Dominic inclined his head in acknowledgment, though his eyes never left June's face. "As you wish."
As you wish, but not as you want, June thought, reading the conflict in his gaze. The same conflict that raged within her own heart—a tempest of desire, confusion, and the unsettling knowledge that she was agreeing to bind herself to a man who harbored secrets he was not willing to share.
A man who, if her brother was to be believed, might not have long to live.
Dominic mounted his black gelding with practiced ease, though the familiar motion required more effort than it should have. Dawn painted the stable yard in shades of gray and pearl, the night's shadows retreating before the determined advanceof morning light. Mist curled around fence posts and clung to Kensworth's fetlocks, as if the earth itself were reluctant to release its hold on the darkness.
His hands tightened on the leather reins until his knuckles whitened, the only outward sign of the turmoil churning within him. Steady thuds echoed from nearby stalls—horses shifting their weight, restless in the early hour. A blackbird's song pierced the stillness, startlingly sweet and utterly indifferent to human concerns.
A stablehand approached, cap in hand. "Good morning, Your Grace."
Dominic inclined his head but didn't speak. Words seemed excessive in this liminal hour, caught between night and day, between bachelor freedom and matrimonial obligation. The boy seemed to understand, offering a simple bow before retreating to his duties.
Kensworth's hooves crunched over gravel as Dominic guided him toward the gate. He tugged at the reins, checking the beast's eager stride, feeling the familiar surge of control that came from mastering the powerful animal beneath him. If only his own life were so easily directed.
The irony wasn't lost on him. For years, he had avoided marriage with the single-minded determination of a general defending a critical pass. His bloodline's curse had made that decision not just prudent but necessary—a cruelty avoided, a widow-not-to-be spared. And yet here he was, riding out to secure a speciallicense, preparing to tie himself to June Vestiere with bonds that only death would sever.
Death. The word no longer held abstract terror but concrete immediacy. The episodes were coming more frequently now—the racing pulse, the breathlessness, the moments when his vision darkened at the edges like a vignette in a daguerreotype. His father had experienced similar symptoms in the months before his collapse. The pattern was clear, the outcome inevitable.
And yet, for the first time since he'd understood his fate, Dominic found himself not regretting the shortness of his allotted time but its uncertainty. Would he have a year with June? Perhaps two? Or would the curse claim him before he'd had the chance to truly know the woman who would be his wife?
Wife.The word warmed him despite the morning chill. The scandal had made this choice for him, true, but it had also freed him to acknowledge how much he craved June's company—her laughter, her sharp retorts, her presence that had unsettled every rule he'd set for himself.
"Damn me," he whispered into the cool dawn air, "I'd ride to hell and back for another glimpse of those eyes."
A breeze stirred, carrying the scent of hay and dew as he urged Kensworth into a canter. The gelding responded eagerly, powerful muscles bunching beneath Dominic as they picked up speed. Each bound of the horse beneath him echoed the relief that had flooded through him when June had said yes. Yes tohim, yes to marriage, yes to a future that might end far sooner than either of them deserved.
