After a moment, he wrote:
Eleanor,
I encountered this edition and was reminded of our first expedition to Hatchard’s, when you observed that a book chosen with care might reveal more of the giver than the gift itself.
I wonder whether first impressions are always to be trusted… or whether some truths require time — and courage — before they are properly understood.
I hope this will be only the first of many shared discoveries.
— A.G.
He read it once, then folded the paper.
It said nothing.
It said everything.
As he stepped back onto the street, adjusting his gloves, he nearly collided with a familiar figure ascending the pavement.
Julien halted, brows lifting. “Grant. Buying up all of Hatchard’s stock, are you?”
“Merely investing in civilization,” Adrian replied.
Julien studied him a moment, the faintest hint of amusement touching his mouth. “That bodes ill for the rest of us.”
They fell into step together.
“You’re abroad early,” Adrian said.
“I escaped the house before I was put to use,” Julien answered. “Eleanor is in full conquering hostess form. There areflorists to consult and musicians to be wrangled. I fled for my own preservation.”
Adrian huffed. “Coward.”
“Pragmatist.”
They walked a few paces in companionable silence before Julien added, almost casually, “Marklynne is escorting Eleanor to the theatre this evening.”
Adrian’s stride did not falter, though something within him tightened.
“I see.”
“Do you?” Julien’s tone held mild curiosity. “I thought you might wish to know.”
Adrian stared ahead, watching the flow of carriages and pedestrians moving through the morning bustle. He could not have said precisely why the information unsettled him so profoundly. It was not merely rivalry. It was not wounded pride. The sensation was older, more instinctive — a protective urgency he could neither justify nor dismiss.
Marklynne was faultless on paper.
That, Adrian suspected, was precisely the problem.
“I believe I shall attend as well,” he said.
Julien’s mouth curved. “For the drama on stage?”
“Among other things.”
Julien said nothing further, though his expression suggested he understood more than Adrian would have preferred.
They parted at the corner, and Adrian continued on his way, aware that he had set events in motion he could no longer pretend were of no consequence. He had spent years preserving the ease of their friendship by refusing to risk it. Now he was risking everything.
