How did one bear such knowledge? How did one live each day without being consumed by fear of what might come?
Twenty-Six
June followed Dominic from the drawing room, grateful for the excuse to escape the knowing gaze of his mother. The dowager duchess had been nothing but kind, yet there was something in her perceptive blue eyes, so like her son's, that made June feel utterly transparent, as if Louisa could see every confused emotion June harbored toward her new husband.
She pulled her thoughts back to the present as Dominic led her deeper into the castle, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back, sending warmth radiating through her despite the chill of the stone hallway.
"I thought you might appreciate this next room more than yet another portrait gallery of stern-faced Blakes," Dominic said, guiding her around a corner where the stone floors gave way to polished oak. "Though I warn you, my ancestors would be scandalized by what I'm about to show you."
"Now I'm both intrigued and concerned," June replied, arching a brow. "What could possibly scandalize a family whose history apparently includes artillery disagreements with neighbors?"
Dominic's laugh echoed off the vaulted ceiling. "Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid. Merely the admission of a woman into what has traditionally been a masculine sanctuary."
He stopped before a pair of carved oak doors and produced a key from his waistcoat pocket. The lock turned with a satisfying click, and he pushed both doors open with a slight flourish.
"My private library," he announced, stepping aside to allow her to enter first.
June's breath caught in her throat as she crossed the threshold. Before her stretched a magnificent room, two stories tall with a wrought iron gallery running around the upper level. Every wall was lined with shelves that reached from floor to ceiling, each filled with leather-bound volumes in varying states of age and wear. Tall windows allowed autumn sunlight to stream across reading tables positioned throughout the room, while comfortable chairs upholstered in deep green leather invited lengthy sessions of study.
"Good heavens," she murmured, turning slowly to take in the full scope of the collection. "I had no idea."
"That the Duke of Ice might have intellectual interests beyond cards and horseflesh?" Dominic asked, his tone light though his eyes watched her reaction with genuine interest.
"That anyone might possess so many books on Roman Britain," June clarified, moving toward the nearest shelf where her fingers traced reverently along the spines. "Cartwright's 'Observations on Roman Antiquities'... Stukeley's 'Itinerarium Curiosum'... even Camden's 'Britannia' in the original Latin edition!"
She pulled the Camden volume carefully from the shelf, cradling it as one might a precious infant. The leather binding was worn smooth from generations of handling, the pages yellowed but intact. June opened it with gentle fingers, drinking in the sight of text that had been produced centuries before.
"You approve, then?" Dominic asked, coming to stand beside her.
June looked up from the book, her expression serious. "I'm desperately trying to maintain my composure and not dance about the room in scholarly ecstasy."
His smile was warm enough to chase away any lingering chill from the stone hallways. "By all means, dance if you wish. I promise not to tell a soul."
"Perhaps later," she said, returning the Camden to its place and moving deeper into the room. "For now, I'm too overwhelmed by curiosity. How did you come to collect all this?"
"Not entirely my doing," Dominic admitted, following in her wake. "My grandfather began the collection. He had a particularinterest in the Roman occupation of Britain—perhaps because evidence of it was discovered on our lands when he was a boy."
June paused by a reading table where an especially ancient tome lay open beneath a protective glass case. "And you've continued his work?"
"When I could." Dominic's shoulder brushed against hers as he leaned closer to the case. "This is my prize acquisition—a tenth-century monk's transcription of a Roman officer's account of campaigns in Britannia."
June studied the faded text, her mind automatically translating the Latin. "Fascinating," she murmured, then paused, frowning slightly. "'Hibernia lies to the west, visible from the shore on clear days'? That can't be correct."
Dominic's eyebrows rose. "You can read tenth-century monastic Latin at a glance?"
"You sound surprised," June replied, straightening to face him. "Did you think my interest in ancient texts was merely a pretense to appear intellectual at dinner parties?"
"Not at all," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm merely impressed by the speed of your translation. And perhaps a bit curious as to why you believe that particular passage is incorrect."
June tapped the glass case lightly. "Because Hibernia—Ireland—is not visible from any shore of Britannia, not even on the clearest day. The closest points are still separated by over ten miles of sea, and the curvature of the earth makes such visibility impossible."
A slow grin spread across Dominic's face. "Are you challenging the accuracy of my favorite historical text?"
"I'm merely pointing out a factual error," June said, the corner of her mouth quirking upward. "Though if you prefer to frame it as a challenge..."
"I believe I do." Dominic moved to another table and spread out an ancient map, its parchment protected by a layer of oiled silk. "Come, show me where this Roman officer has led us astray."
June joined him at the table, bending over the map. Their heads inclined toward each other, close enough that she could detect the faint scent of sandalwood that clung to his skin. She forced her attention to the map rather than the distracting proximity of her husband.
