Vivienne's POV
He arrived at half past eleven on a Tuesday.
My assistant buzzed through with the particular tone she used when something had appeared that didn't fit neatly into the scheduled structure of the day and she was flagging it without editorialising about it.
"A Mr. Louis B. is in reception," she said. "He says he has something for you from Charles. A birthday gift."
I looked at my calendar.
My birthday was in eleven days.
"Send him up," I said.
....
He came through the door the way he came through every door, with the easy forward momentum of someone for whom arrival was always an event worth committing to fully. He was wearing a jacket I recognised as expensive without being able to immediately name the house, which was the specific category of expensive that required e
