It was so very Regina. Tonight. Nothing more. Just that one word, and she expected, of course, for him to not only understand but also come running. He would resent it a little more, but he knew she didn’t intend it that way. Her artistic soul resisted formality and she would be confounded if he’d take offense because she’d invited him to join her for the evening in such a succinct manner. So once he’d delivered his cousins back to the Bourne family residence in Mayfair, he requested to have his horse saddled. It was only a few blocks, but it had started to mist and he wasn’t so much reluctant to walk, but reluctant to wait. Entirely different. It was late, dark because of the drizzle, and he walked up the front steps after giving his mount over to a sleepy stable boy with his collar up around his ears. This time, with her note, Regina had included a key. A first. A coup. She invited no one into her life lightly. James inserted it into the lock, turned it, and went inside, doing his best to not drip all over the polished floor of the foyer.
