Julian had slipped out through the side corridor with the casual ease of a man stepping out for air, and Miriam had watched him go. She had told herself it meant nothing. She had set down her glass, straightened her spine, and then walked directly after him.
Miriam had not planned to follow him.
She had told herself firmly, somewhere between the flower arrangement and her third glass of water, that she was going to stay in that ballroom the entire evening. She was going to smile at anyone who looked at her sideways. She was going to prove to every person in that room that she was completely, absolutely, perfectly fine.
She had lasted only ten minutes.
She found him in the small reading room off the east corridor. He was standing by the window with his back to the door, his coat still on but his cravat already loosened, as if the evening had cost him something he wasn't willing to name.
He heard her come in.
"I wondered if you would follow," he said, without turning.
