The words he knew how to pen weren’t stanzas and romantic couplets, but compendiums of information. Whatever intelligence someone needed, he could provide it. His version of poetry.
Graham wanted to be the thing she needed.
And she could not let him. Not the way he really wished. But she had not meant to hurt him. To allow her anger—and, yes, also her hurt—at his presumption and lack of faith to make her react just as insensitively.
When she had pushed the book away, he had felt as though she were pushinghimaway. And perhaps shehadbeen. She’d known then that she could not afford to let him slip behind her shields to the place in her heart where she was still vulnerable and scared.
But nor could she bear to leave without taking some part of him with her. A reminder that once there had been someone who had welcomed her into his arms and his life, without requiring tests to prove herself, or a special rank and uniform.
Someone whose kisses she could still taste on her lips when she closed her eyes. Someone whose shoulder she had felt safe enough to fall asleep against. Someone she would miss perhaps forever. Kuni lowered her shaking hand. Would it be so wrong to at least page through the intelligence he’d longed to share with her? She stood to face the fireplace.
On the back of the far wall rose several bookshelves. The journal she’d declined to even touch was amongst them.
The fire was low, ready to be put out or built up, depending on the whim of the siblings. She took a taper from the basket atop the mantel and lit it at the flames to better scan the rows of carefully compiled albums.
Where would he have placed it?
She remembered the color of the leather, the width of the spine. But there were so many bookcases. Wall after wall of gossip and random facts, here and in the Planning Parlor upstairs. Graham’s interests appeared to be voracious and scattered.
What if he were to channel that curiosity, to direct his spies and informants toward specific stratagems? In fact—
Kuni shook her head. What was she doing? Makingplans, as though she would be here to see them through or have any say in the matter? She hadn’t appreciated Graham interfering inherbusiness. She would respect him enough to stay out of his.
She turned to a new shelf. Good Lord, how many royal albums could one person collect? Graham knew more about the English king and his sons than they probably knew about themselves.
The book must be in this section, here with all the other albums dedicated to royalty…Ah, here it was! She blew out the taper and returned it to the basket before picking up the book. It was just as she remembered it. Supple brown leather. Spine three centimeters thick.
An unfamiliar marker protruded from the pages. She opened the book at the spot to find a folded sheet of paper…with her name written on one side.
She opened the paper to read:
Dear Kunigunde,
Most likely, you will never read these words. More importantly, you do not need anyone’s help. You are an unstoppable force just as you are.
You are also a fortnight delayed in your mission, through no fault of your own. You chose to help my family, and so many relieved workers, rather than help yourself.
To thank you for that selflessness, I have made a complete and comprehensive copy of the information I will be delivering to my own client. If it helps you in any way, please take any portion of the contents—or the entire book—home with you.
And if my attempt to make up for a small portion of the valuable time you have lost offends or hurts you in any way, then please toss this album directly into the closest fire.
You are the last person I’d wish to hurt. I’d much rather hold you close. I hope you interpret each page of this book as the embrace I mean it to be. Even if you choose not to accept this gift—or me—I shall remain:
Forever yours,
Graham
Heart jittery with emotion, Kuni knelt before the low fire to flip through the pages.
Its contents were everything she could want. Things she hadn’t even known sheshouldwant. Access points and livery, painted by Marjorie. Maps, drawn by Tommy. Dates, histories, interviews, schedules, all collected by Graham and penned in smooth, bold strokes.
He was right. With this book, the royal family could enjoy the best protection and highest level of security of any trip they’d ever taken. And it would all be thanks to…
Graham.
Graham, not Kuni. Graham and the Wynchester siblings.
She drummed her fingers on the album. She knew what he would say if he could see her indecision. What he and his familyhadsaid, time and again.
