Chapter 2
Two
"Iwould wager you're about to crack a tooth if you clench any tighter," Theodore Roth, Duke of Stone, remarked, glancing sideways at Dominic.
Dominic should not be annoyed, but he was. He relaxed his jaw with conscious effort, but his eyes remained fixed on the figure walking along the garden path below the terrace.
The morning sun caught on her brown hair, turning it to amber where it escaped her bonnet. She moved with the same unmistakable confidence he remembered from the night before—back straight as a blade, steps purposeful.
"I haven't the faintest idea what you mean," Dominic said, forcing his gaze away from her. The earring he'd found on his floor after her departure weighed heavy in his breast pocket, a small pearl drop that seemed to burn against his chest through layers of linen and wool.
Theo followed the direction of Dominic's previous stare and smiled knowingly. "The gardens are particularly engaging this morning, I see."
"When do you expect August to arrive?" Dominic asked, deliberately changing the subject. He refused to admit, even to himself, that the woman had affected him. One kiss—a rather spectacular kiss, if he were being honest—and suddenly he found himself watching for her like a lovesick schoolboy.
"By tomorrow afternoon, if his letter is to be believed," Theo answered. "Though I've known him to be late more often than punctual. Oxford habits die hard."
Dominic nodded, grateful for the distraction of old friends.
He had known both Theo and August since their university days, but had left England shortly after graduation to travel through Europe, combining business ventures with pleasure.
Now, finally back on English soil, seeing his friends was supposed to be a welcome respite.
"And how was the Continent?" Theo asked. "Your letters were entertaining, if infrequent."
"Profitable," Dominic replied with a half-smile. "Though I did witness a rather spectacular volcanic eruption in Sicily that nearly ended my grand tour permanently."
"Good Lord," Theo exclaimed. "You never mentioned that."
Dominic shrugged. "It seemed overly dramatic to include in correspondence. Besides, I'm here now, unsinged and solvent."
His eyes, treacherous things, drifted back to the garden below.
The lady had turned her back to him now, which somehow irritated him even more.
Her companion—another lady whose face was obscured by an elaborate bonnet—leaned close to say something that made her laugh.
The sound carried up to the terrace, light and musical, but with an edge of something sharper.
"You seem distracted," Theo observed. "Are you finding the house party dull already? We've a full schedule of entertainments planned—April insisted."
"Not at all," Dominic said quickly. "Merely adjusting to English society again. One forgets how many rules there are to observe."
"Rules you've never been particularly fond of following," Theo replied with a knowing smirk.
Dominic didn't answer. His reputation for flouting convention had been well-earned in his youth, though his reasons had never been what others assumed. The world saw a carefree rake; only Dominic knew the cold calculation behind his refusal to form lasting attachments.
Below, the lady gestured animatedly, her gloved hand cutting through the air in a way that suggested she was making a point her companion found either brilliant or scandalous. Either way, Dominic found himself wishing he could hear the conversation.
"Ah, speaking of my wife," Theo said suddenly, straightening his posture. "I really ought to introduce you properly. You arrived so late last night, there wasn't time for formal introductions."
Dominic followed Theo's gaze to see a woman ascending the terrace steps from another part of the garden. She wore a pale blue morning dress and moved with a graceful, buoyant step that suggested perpetual optimism.
"The Duchess of Stone is—" Theo began, but his words faltered as Dominic suddenly stiffened beside him.
For a terrible, disorienting moment, Dominic thought he was looking at the woman from last night—the one he had kissed, the one whose earring rested in his pocket, the one who had left him stunned and sleepless. His stomach dropped. Had he kissed his friend's wife?
But as she drew closer, relief washed over him. This woman, while strikingly similar, was not his mysterious lady. Her eyes were blue, not amber-brown, and freckles dusted her cheeks. Her smile was open and warm, nothing like the challenging smirk he remembered.
"Duchess," Dominic said, inclining his head as Theo's wife approached. "A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."
"Duke of Icemere," she replied with a curtsy and a smile that suggested they shared a secret. "We've heard so much about you from both my husband and my brother."
"All of it lies, I'm certain," Dominic said smoothly.
She laughed. "Oh, undoubtedly. Though the most entertaining stories are rarely factual."
"April, darling," Theo said, taking his wife's hand. "I was just about to explain to Dominic that you've planned a veritable campaign of entertainment for the next fortnight."
"Are you worried you're seeing double, Duke?" April asked suddenly, nodding toward the garden where the two ladies were now making their way toward the terrace steps.
Dominic followed her gaze, realizing with a start that the woman in the garden and the Duchess of Stone bore an uncanny resemblance to each other. "I confess I did experience a moment of confusion," he admitted. "Though the distinctions are clear enough upon closer inspection."
His eyes locked once more on the lady from last night as she ascended the steps. Now that he could see all three women in proximity, the similarities were obvious, but so too were the differences. Where April was sunshine, the lady from last night was shadow and steel.
"Triplets," Theo explained with a chuckle. "God help us all."
Dominic's eyebrows rose. "Truly? I've never met triplets before."
"Few have," April said. "We're quite the oddity, I'm afraid. Mother claims we nearly killed her in childbirth, and Father still looks a bit haunted when anyone mentions it."
The two women from the garden reached the terrace, and Dominic found himself holding his breath. Up close, the third sister was clearly distinct as well—green eyes behind spectacles, a softer manner than either of her siblings.
"Icemere," Theo said formally, "may I present my sisters-in-law: May Blackmore, Duchess of Irondale, and Lady June Vestiere."
June. Her name was June. The knowledge settled in Dominic's mind like a key turning in a lock. He inclined his head to May first, then turned to June, whose expression remained impressively neutral.
"Lady June," he said, taking her gloved hand. "I believe we've crossed paths before."
"Have we?" she replied, her tone perfectly innocent though her eyes flashed with something that might have been anger or amusement. "I'm certain I would remember meeting the illustrious Duke of Ice."
"Duke of Ice?" Dominic repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware that particular nickname had traveled beyond university circles."
"My brother mentioned you," she said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Quite frequently, in fact."
"August always did enjoy a good story," Dominic replied. "Though I'm sure his tales were greatly exaggerated."
"On the contrary," June said. "I found them entirely believable."
The air between them crackled with unspoken meaning. Dominic couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh or pull her aside to demand an explanation for her abrupt departure the night before.
"I understand you've been abroad," May interjected, clearly sensing the tension.
"Yes, the Continent," Dominic answered, grateful for the diversion. "Though England has its own particular charms that I've missed."
"Such as?" June asked, her challenge barely concealed.
Dominic's lips quirked. "Unexpected encounters that leave one... wanting more."
A faint blush colored June's cheeks, though her expression remained composed. "I've found most encounters in England to be rather predictable," she replied. "Men, especially, tend to follow familiar patterns."
"Then perhaps you haven't met the right men," Dominic suggested.
"Or perhaps I've met too many of the wrong ones," she countered.
April and Theo exchanged glances, clearly puzzled by the barbed conversation.
"We should join the others for luncheon," Theo said after a moment. "Dominic, shall we?"
Dominic nodded, but before turning to leave, he lifted June's hand once more. Instead of the customary brief touch of lips to glove, he turned her palm upward and pressed a lingering kiss to her wrist, just above where her glove ended.
"It truly is delightful stumbling into you again," he murmured against her skin, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
He felt her pulse jump beneath his lips, a small victory that sent satisfaction coursing through him. Then, straightening, he released her hand and followed Theo from the terrace, aware of her eyes burning into his back with every step.