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Chapter 60

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Dear Julien,

I am sorry to have missed your call. I am not ill; I merely got caught in the rain and took a slight chill. I will most certainly be at Lady Seaforth’s ball and look forward to seeing you there.

L.

Julien refolded the note and tucked it back in his pocket, telling himself he was turning into a lovesick fool. How many times had he reread the note since receiving it late yesterday afternoon? And it wasn’t particularly flowery or profound. For someone with such a love of the written word, Leander was surprisingly succinct when putting pen to paper. He seemed more concerned with stressing that he was not ill than anything else. Julien wondered if Leander’s definition of “a slight chill” was similar to that of “a little sore” when nearly breaking his ribs.