April bounced Annabelle gently on her knee, her expression thoughtful. "What will you do now, June? Will you return to him?"
"I cannot." The words tasted bitter on her tongue. "Not unless he comes to his senses."
"And if he doesn't?" May pressed.
June set her teacup down with deliberate care. "Then I shall build a life without him."
The simple declaration hung in the air between them. Both her sisters stared at her, clearly surprised by her certainty.
"June," April said softly. "I've never seen you like this about a man before."
"Like what?"
"So... affected. Even when you're trying not to be."
June looked away, unwilling to reveal just how deeply Dominic had worked his way beneath her defenses. "We suited each other," she said simply. "Or so I thought."
"You love him," May stated, not a question but a certainty.
June didn't deny it. What would be the point? Her sisters knew her too well.
"I would rather face a lifetime of grief with him than safety without him," she admitted, the words emerging with surprising steadiness. "But I cannot be with a man who doesn't trust my judgment about my own heart."
Leonardo crashed into her skirts, laughing as he looked up at her with innocent joy. June ruffled his hair, grateful for the momentary distraction. How simple children's happiness seemed—unencumbered by pride or fear, unburdened by thoughts of mortality.
"What did the dowager duchess say when you left?" April asked, shifting Annabelle to her other knee.
"She was distressed. Confused." June smoothed her skirts where Leonardo had wrinkled them. "I believe she would have told me more about this supposed curse if I had pressed her."
"Perhaps you should have," May suggested.
"Perhaps." June stared into the distance, remembering Louisa's tear-filled eyes, her puzzling certainty that June was "good" for Dominic. "But I was too angry then. Too hurt."
"And now?" April asked gently.
"Now I am merely...resolute." June lifted her chin slightly. "I will not chase after a man who believes he knows better than I do what is best for my heart."
Her sisters exchanged glances, clearly impressed by her clarity if concerned by her pain. June forced a small smile, determined not to succumb to self-pity.
"Enough about my marital difficulties," she said, reaching to tickle Leonardo as he circled her chair again. "Tell me about your plans for Christmas. Will you both stay at Stone Manor?"
As April launched into details about holiday preparations, June allowed her thoughts to drift momentarily. She wondered what Dominic was doing now—whether he stood at that same window, staring out at the Yorkshire landscape, believing himself noble in his solitude. The image made anger flare anew within her chest.
Let him have his noble sacrifice.Let him wrap himself in righteous solitude. I refuse to beg a man to love me openly, honestly, without conditions.
And yet, beneath the anger lay a deeper, more painful truth: she missed him with an intensity that frightened her. Missed his wit, his unexpected tenderness, even his infuriating stubbornness. Missed the man who had carried her from those ruins as if she were the most precious thing in his world.
June lifted her teacup to her lips, hiding the sudden trembling she could not quite control. One day at a time. That was how she would rebuild herself. One hour, one minute if necessary. And if Dominic never came to his senses?
Then she would learn to live with the hollow space he'd left behind.
Dominic circled his study for what must have been the hundredth time that day, his boots wearing an invisible path into the Aubusson carpet. It had been a week since June had left. She had taken the castle's heart with her when she departed, and he was a lost soul drifting aimlessly.
His desk stood in disarray, ledgers splayed open, correspondence unanswered. The decanter of brandy beside them sat empty, its crystal catching the afternoon light that streamed through windows he hadn't bothered to have curtained. His cravat hung loose around his throat, his waistcoatunbuttoned—small rebellions against propriety that would have scandalized Winters had the butler dared enter the study in recent days.
You did this.You pushed her away. You protected her.
Yet the justification rang hollow now. What good was protection if it left them both in misery?
