Chapter 72
The lighting dimmed. The film began: in the slow drifting of Regency London into focus, the streets, the date, the clop of hoofs and the rattle of carriages, and the low sweep of music, Stephen’s arrival on screen, the way he and his lieutenant looked at the world of politics and parties, and squared shoulders against battle.
Jason had to admit he looked damn good. So did Leo, in uniform. And the whole unfolding tapestry. But he kept eyeing himself. Those were his choices, Stephen’s weariness, Stephen’s determination, that set of jaw. Came across right. Felt right.
He let out a breath that’d been stuck in his chest, possibly for months. Colby squeezed his hand.
He fell into the story. They fell into the story: historical wartime and need and loneliness.