Chapter 29 #2
"Search every room," he ordered, his voice crisp with authority that masked his growing unease. "Every closet, every unused chamber. Perhaps she's exploring the east wing."
The staff dispersed instantly, sensing their master's concern. Dominic paced the entrance hall, each minute that passed adding weight to his worry. This wasn't like June. She was practical, sensible. She wouldn't wander off without word, not on an estate still unfamiliar to her.
Unless...
"She wouldn't," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "She's too intelligent for such recklessness."
But even as he reassured himself, doubt crept in. June's curiosity was boundless. Her scholarly passion often overrode caution. And hadn't he himself pointed out every interesting feature of the estate during their rides?
Winters returned fifteen minutes later, his face grave. "We've searched every room in the main building, Your Grace. Her Grace is not within the castle."
The cold thing in Dominic's chest spread outward, reaching tendrils into his limbs. "Gather the groundskeepers and any able-bodied men. Search the formal gardens, the woods, the lake—everywhere."
"At once, Your Grace."
"And send riders to check the roads leading from the estate," Dominic added, his voice tightening with each word. "She can't have gone far on foot."
As Winters moved to execute his orders, Dominic strode to the great hall windows, staring out at the darkening grounds. Twilight was approaching fast, the days growing shorter as autumn deepened toward winter. If June was outside somewhere, lost or—he couldn't bear to complete the thought.
"She must be found before dark," he said to no one in particular, his hands clasped behind his back with such force that his knuckles whitened.
Footmen hurried past with lanterns, heading out to join the search. Dominic watched them go, fighting the urge to race after them. He needed to coordinate, to think logically. June would expect no less from him.
But logic was increasingly difficult to maintain as minutes stretched into an hour with no word.
"Your Grace," a footman approached, breathless from running. "We've checked the gardens, the stables, the gardener's cottage—nothing."
Dominic nodded stiffly, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. "Continue searching. The woods, the lake, everywhere."
The staff exchanged glances as they passed each other in the hall. None had ever seen the Duke of Icemere in such a state. His famous control was slipping—his cravat loosened, his hair disheveled from running his hands through it repeatedly, his movements sharp and erratic.
"She wouldn't have left," he insisted to Winters when the butler suggested broadening the search to the village. "Not without telling me. Something's happened to her."
The words, spoken aloud, sent ice through his veins. Something's happened to her. The Blake curse had claimed his father, his grandfather, generations of men before him. But what if its true cruelty was this—taking not his life, but the woman who had, against all odds, become precious to him?
No, he thought fiercely. I refuse to accept that.
As full darkness fell, lantern light bobbed across the grounds like fireflies, each one representing a servant searching for the missing Duchess. Dominic stood at the entrance, a coat thrown hastily over his shoulders, prepared to join the search himself.
"Dominic?"
He turned to find his mother descending the stairs, concern etched across her fine features.
"Mother, you should be resting," he said automatically.
"How can I rest when my son looks as though his world is ending?" Louisa approached him, her keen eyes taking in his disheveled appearance. "What's happened?"
"June is missing," he said, the words catching in his throat. "No one has seen her since midday. We've searched everywhere."
"Missing?" Louisa's hand flew to her throat. "But surely she's just—"
"She's not in the castle. Not in the gardens. Not anywhere anyone has looked." Dominic's voice rose despite his efforts to control it. "It's been hours, Mother. And it's getting dark, and cold, and—"
He broke off, unwilling to voice the fears crowding his mind. June alone in the dark. June injured somewhere on his vast estate. June calling for help that didn't come.
"We must find her," he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.
Louisa studied her son's face, seeing what few others would recognize—not merely concern for a new bride, but the raw terror of a man faced with losing someone irreplaceable.
"You love her," she said softly, not a question but a realization.
Dominic looked at his mother, startled by the simple truth of her words. Love? Was that this desperate fear clawing at his chest, this certainty that if harm came to June, something in him would shatter beyond repair?
"I—" he began, but couldn't finish.
Louisa reached for his hand, her touch steadying. "Dominic," she said, her voice trembling slightly as she touched his arm. "I just remembered... June mentioned the old ruins this morning after breakfast."
Time seemed to stop. Dominic stared at his mother, blood draining from his face. "The ruins? You're certain?"
"Yes, she asked if anyone had ever conducted a proper archaeological study of them. She seemed quite interested."
"Lord help me," Dominic whispered, his pale eyes widening as realization struck like lightning. "I showed them to her myself!"
The ancient Blake castle ruins—crumbling, unstable, parts of it collapsing with each passing year. He'd pointed them out during their ride, never thinking she might venture there alone. Alone and unaware of which sections were stable, which were death traps waiting to claim the unwary.
"Winters!" he shouted, startling a passing footman. "Gather men with tools—picks, shovels, anything that might move stone!"
The butler appeared as if conjured by Dominic's urgent tone. "Your Grace?"
"The ruins—she's gone to the ruins." Dominic snatched a lantern from a servant's hands. "Send men there immediately. And fetch Dr. Forrest from the village."
Without waiting for acknowledgment, he strode toward the door, purpose replacing panic in every line of his body.
"Dominic, be careful!" his mother called after him. "Those ruins are dangerous—"
But he was already gone, racing into the night toward the ancient stones where his wife might be trapped, his heart tightening with the terrifying knowledge that parts of those ruins had been collapsing for years.