Page 58

Cassian's brows rose in surprise. "Uncertain? The Ottoman permits are executed. The charter is signed. The supply manifests are finalized."

"None of that has changed." Julian paused, carefully weighing his words. "Yet beyond protecting Thomas's museum, I must secure the Ravensmere title before embarking on such a hazardous voyage."

"Secure the title?" Cassian stared at him. "You mean sire an heir."

"I mean secure the succession, yes."

"You mean sire an heir."

"The legal phrasing is considerably less delicate."

Cassian set down his glass, a wide, genuine grin spreading across his face.

"Well," he said, laughter creeping into his voice, "you had best pray Adelaide's first child is a boy, or your grand expedition will be delayed for years!"

A hearty laugh burst from him, filling the private corner of the club. Julian felt the corner of his own mouth twitch despite his composure.

"It is not amusing, Cassian."

"It is profoundly amusing. The celebrated explorer, conqueror of mountains and uncharted terrain, brought low by the necessity of fatherhood."

"I am not brought low by anything."

"You are brought low by the biological imperative, which remains rather humbling for a man of your accomplishments."

Julian raised his brandy and drank. The warmth spread through his chest, and he set the glass down with deliberate force.

Cassian's laughter subsided into a quiet smile as the muted murmur of the club resumed around them. Beyond the partition, a log shifted in the hearth.

Julian looked at his friend. Cassian sat comfortably across from him—composed, confident, moving through the world with an ease Julian had never possessed. A question formed before Julian could stop it.

"How did you know?"

Cassian tilted his head. "Know what?"

"That you had chosen the right woman?" Julian paused, acutely aware of how the inquiry exposed his vulnerability. "How did you know?"

Cassian's posture shifted. The humor drained from his features, replaced by a reserved seriousness. He studied Julian for a long moment before offering a smaller, private smile that revealed nothing of his thoughts.

"Every man must discover that answer on his own, Julian."

"That is hardly an answer."

"No," Cassian agreed softly. "It is not. Yet it remains the only one I possess."

He raised his glass to his lips, effectively closing the subject.

Julian sat in the leather armchair at White's, surrounded by the ambient hum of the club, the warmth of brandy, and the familiar presence of his oldest friend, yet felt entirely disconnected from it all. The word love burned in his chest like an unextinguished coal, while Cassian's refusal to answer echoed in his mind.

Every man must discover that answer on his own.

What if he had already discovered it? And what if the realization terrified him far more than any treacherous mountain pass ever had?

He picked up his glass, set it down, and picked it up once more.

Cassian observed the motion in silence, a gesture that proved far heavier than any spoken counsel.

"That will be all for tonight, Mr. Danvers."