"I should warn you," August said after a comfortable silence, "my sisters are all in attendance."
"All?" Dominic asked, feigning ignorance with a skill honed over years of social duplicity.
"The complete trio," August confirmed, his pride evident. "April you know, of course, being our hostess. But May and June are here as well. I don't believe you've had the pleasure."
Dominic let out a chuckle that emerged darker than he intended. "Oh, I have already met them."
August's eyebrows rose. "Have you? Good. They are better company than most."
"Indeed," Dominic said, unable to keep a certain dryness from his tone. "Lady June in particular made quite an impression."
Something in his voice must have alerted August, for his friend glanced at him sharply. "Did she? June can be... prickly. I hope she wasn't rude."
Pricklyhardly covered it. Dominic thought of June's cool assessment, her challenging words, the way she had kissed him with a passion that belied her dismissal. "Not at all," he lied smoothly. "She seems a woman of uncommon intelligence."
August looked relieved. "She is that. Too clever by half, Mother always says. Scares off most of the eligible gentlemen with heropinions on everything from Greek philosophy to agricultural reform."
"How terrifying," Dominic remarked, his lips quirking. "A woman with a mind of her own."
"You laugh," August said, "but you've never seen her reduce a pompous viscount to stammering incoherence over dinner."
Actually, Dominic rather thought he would enjoy that. The realization troubled him.
They had nearly reached the manor's gardens when August spoke again. "I've never understood why she's so resistant to marriage. April and May were both wed by her age, yet June treats every potential suitor as if he were carrying the plague."
Dominic kept his expression carefully neutral. "Perhaps she values her independence."
"Perhaps," August agreed, though he sounded unconvinced. "Or perhaps she's waiting for someone worthy of her intelligence. God knows most of the ton's gentlemen couldn't string together two coherent thoughts if their fortunes depended on it."
And am I worthy?The question rose unbidden in Dominic's mind, startling him with its presumption. What did it matter if he was worthy or not? He had no intention of pursuing Lady June or any woman. His path was clear—enjoy life's pleasureswhile they lasted, manage his estates well, and leave this world without inflicting the pain of loss on a wife or children.
"Come," August said, gesturing toward the manor that now loomed before them. "Let's rejoin civilization. I'll introduce you to my sisters properly."
"I look forward to it," Dominic replied through clenched teeth, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue.
"You must make the most of this house party, Lady June," Lady Worthington declared, adjusting her enormous turban with fingers that sparkled with more rings than June thought entirely necessary for an afternoon in the country. "A gathering of this caliber presents opportunities that a young lady of your... particular qualities cannot afford to overlook."
"My particular qualities?" June echoed, raising one eyebrow. "Pray tell, which of my deficiencies are you referring to this time, Aunt Agatha? My unfortunate habit of reading books not approved for ladies, or my advanced age of twenty years?"
Lady Worthington's mouth puckered as if she'd bitten into an unripe persimmon. "There is no need for impertinence, my dear. I merely suggest that with both your sisters so advantageously settled, your continued unmarried state draws... notice."
June rolled her eyes, an unladylike gesture she'd perfected through years of enduring similar conversations. "How fortunate that I care so deeply about the notice of others."
"You should care," her aunt insisted, tapping June's knee with her ivory fan. "Three more seasons without a proposal, and you'll be firmly on the shelf. Then what will become of you?"
"I shall establish a colony of spinsters," June replied placidly. "We shall wear comfortable shoes and discuss politics at breakfast. Perhaps keep cats."
Lady Worthington looked genuinely horrified, which gave June a flicker of satisfaction. The drawing room buzzed with afternoon conversation, the usual mixture of gossip and idle chatter that made June long for the solitude of a good book. She had worn her most forbidding expression all morning in hopes of discouraging conversation, but her aunt, immune to such subtle warnings, had cornered her by the window.
The drawing room door opened, and June glanced up automatically. Her heart stuttered as August entered, followed closely by Dominic. The duke was impeccably dressed in a dark blue coat that made his eyes seem even more piercing than she remembered. His hair, slightly tousled as if he'd been walking outdoors, gave him a rakish air that contrasted with his otherwise perfect appearance.
Why must he be so unfairly handsome?June thought irritably. It would be much easier to despise him if he resembled a toad.
"My goodness," Lady Worthington breathed, suddenly alert as a hunting hound catching a scent. "Is that the Duke of Icemere with your brother? How delightful."
June stiffened. She knew that tone. It was the same one her aunt used when spotting an unattached duke at a ball—a tone that heralded imminent and humiliating matchmaking attempts.
"Aunt, I beg you—" June began, but it was too late.
