Page 31

He sat in the heavy leather armchair of his study at Grosvenor Square, staring past the unlit hearth while flipping Thomas's silver pocket watch between his fingers. The casing had worn thin along the rim where his late brother's thumb had rubbed it for years. Julian's own thumb traced that same path now in a continuous, restless circle.

A sharp, confident knock disrupted the quiet.

Julian's hand stilled as the watch dangled from its heavy silver chain. "Enter."

The door opened to reveal Cassian Ashbourne, elegant in a dark morning coat and crisp white linen, the mother-of-pearl buttons at his cuffs catching the morning light filtering through the draped windows. He surveyed the quiet room, taking note of the cold grate, the untouched coffee service on the desk, and the duke seated in shadow.

"Good morning, Ravensmere," Cassian said, a subtle smile touching his lips. "Or ought I to address you as the groom?"

Julian slipped the watch into his waistcoat pocket, feeling its solid weight settle against his ribs. "Sit if you wish, though I offer small promise of entertaining conversation."

Cassian crossed the floor and took the opposite armchair, arranging his coat tails before regarding Julian with the seasoned patience of a man accustomed to seeing old friends navigate difficult hours.

"Are you prepared?" Cassian asked quietly.

Julian drew a slow, deliberate breath. The air tasted faintly of stale coffee and old parchment. "I am."

The reply sounded steady and thoroughly rehearsed. Yet beneath his calm exterior, a cold thread of apprehension tightened around his lungs. He was certain of his decision; at thirty-six years of age, he had never made a choice with greater conviction. Adelaide would make a magnificent duchess. She was brilliant, composed, and entirely capable of managing Ravensmere House, the estate, and the immense responsibilities he was entrusting to her care.

Yet the expedition to Xanthos waited just ahead.

The Lycian coast presented treacherous terrain, unstable regional politics, and fever-ridden valleys that had nearly claimed his life two years prior. He was binding Adelaide to his title and fortune, only to set sail toward danger with the same unyielding purpose that had drawn Thomas into the Highlands.

I offer her practical security, only to risk leaving her widowed.

The thought arrived with sharp, unbidden clarity. Should the tropical fever strike him again or a coastal precipice collapse, Adelaide would be left with a grand title she had never sought and a heavy burden of public grief. She would become a widow at thirty—another Ashbourne woman left behind to manage the remnants of other men's ambitions.

Cassian leaned forward, resting his elbows upon his knees and clasping his hands loosely. "You are hesitating, Julian."

Julian's jaw set tightly. "I am not."

"You are," Cassian countered gently. "I have known you for fifteen years, and I recognize the distinction between your quiet reflection and true hesitation. Speak plainly."

Julian looked at his friend. The grand townhouse held a profound stillness around them as the household prepared for the upcoming ceremony.

"I dread leaving her to manage the aftermath alone," Julian admitted, his voice raspy. "The trustees demanded a duchess to secure the covenant, and I secured a wife far superior to any I deserved to find." He gripped the carved wooden armrests. "Yet I depart for the Mediterranean soon, Cassian. What manner of man binds a gentlewoman to his name and immediately boards an expedition ship?"

"The manner of man who trusts her judgment implicitly to govern what he leaves behind," Cassian answered calmly.

"I am uncertain whether such trust constitutes a blessing or a burden."

Cassian leaned back into his seat, steepling his fingers beneath his chin as he studied his host.

"Events unfold," Cassian observed thoughtfully, "not precisely as we design them, but as providence dictates they must."

Julian raised an eyebrow. "That is remarkably philosophical, even for you."

"It is merely truth," Cassian replied. "You went to Kent for a scholar, Julian, but you brought back Adelaide. That speaks clearly enough."

Julian reached into his waistcoat, resting his palm against the warm metal casing of the watch. "She will prove an outstanding duchess," he said softly.

"You are well aware of that."

"I know she will govern Ravensmere House with far greater efficiency than I ever displayed," Julian continued quietly. "I know she will safeguard Thomas's archive with total devotion. I know she will—" He stopped as the words caught in his throat, too intimate to utter aloud.

I know she will occupy my thoughts across every league of the voyage to Xanthos.

"Then cease turning that watch and stand up," Cassian instructed dryly. "Your bride awaits at the church, and I am reliably informed she holds a deep dislike for tardiness."