"Lady June," he replied, bowing with careful precision. "Ladies April and May. I apologize for the intrusion."
April rose first, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Not at all, Your Grace. I believe my son requires attention. If you'll excuse me."
May followed suit, adjusting her spectacles with an expression that might have been amusement, might have been judgment."And I must check on... something terribly important elsewhere. Sister, you'll forgive us."
The sisters departed with matching glances over their shoulders that held warnings Dominic couldn't quite decipher. The door closed behind them with a soft click that sounded to his ears like the trap of a hangman's scaffold.
The drawing room fell silent. June remained seated, her hands folded in her lap, her face a perfect mask that revealed nothing of her thoughts. Dominic remained standing, suddenly aware of how large he felt in the elegant room, how his usual easy confidence had abandoned him completely.
"You look well," he said, then immediately cursed himself for such a banal opening.
June's eyebrow arched slightly. "Did you travel all the way from Yorkshire to comment on my appearance?"
"No." He moved further into the room, stopping a respectful distance from where she sat. "I came to tell you something. Something that changes everything."
"Does it?" Her amber eyes revealed nothing, but her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on the fabric of her skirt.
Dominic drew a deep breath. "My mother told me the truth, June. About the Blake curse. About my father."
Now she looked up at him fully, her gaze sharp with sudden interest.
"The curse that has haunted me all my life—that made me push you away—it was never mine to bear." The words tumbled out faster than he intended, raw with emotion he couldn't suppress. "My father—the Duke—was not my blood father. My mother was with child when they married. Their arrangement was one of convenience—he needed an heir but wouldn't sire one due to the family illness. I—" his voice caught, "I never carried the Blake curse. I never could."
June's expression remained unchanged, though something flickered in her eyes—surprise, perhaps, or disbelief.
"I've lived my entire life preparing to die young," he continued, forcing steadiness into his voice. "Every decision, every adventure, every relationship—all shadowed by the certainty that my time was limited. And now I discover it was all founded on a lie."
"A lie told to protect you," June observed quietly.
"A lie that made me hurt you," he countered. "Made me push away the one person I should have held closest."
She rose then, smoothing her skirts with careful hands. "And now that you know you're not dying, you've come to reclaim your wife. How convenient."
The bitterness in her tone cut through him like a blade. He deserved it, every word.
"I've come to beg your forgiveness," he said. "To tell you that I was wrong—not just about the curse, but about trying to decide what was best for your heart."
"Your mistake wasn't believing you would die young, Dominic," she said, his name on her lips sending a jolt through him. "It was believing you had the right to make choices for me, to decide what pain I could bear." Her voice remained cool, controlled, but her eyes burned with banked emotion. "It was the arrogance of thinking you knew my heart better than I did myself."
Dominic took a step toward her, then stopped as she raised her hand, palm out.
"I am sorry, June," he said, the words wholly inadequate for the pain he had caused. "More sorry than I can express. I thought I was protecting you."
"And did it never occur to you that I might not want protection?" she asked. "That I might prefer truth, however painful?"
"It should have," he admitted. "You've never been one to shy away from difficulty. It was one of the first things I admired about you."
A hint of softness touched her expression, gone so quickly he might have imagined it.
"It will take more than pretty words to earn my forgiveness, Duke," she said, the formal title a reminder of the distance between them.
Dominic crossed the remaining space between them in two strides. He took her hand before she could withdraw it, brought it to his lips, and pressed a kiss against her knuckles with fevered intensity.
"I am madly in love with you, June Blake," he whispered against her skin. "And I will gladly spend the rest of both our lives showing you just how much."
He released her hand and stepped back, watching her face for any sign of what she was feeling. Her cheeks had flushed slightly, but her expression remained guarded.
"Good day, June," he said softly, backing toward the door. "I'll call again tomorrow, if I may."
