If Eduard hoped to see Reza again at dinner, he was disappointed. He was joined only by Marien, whose slight frown silenced any conversation between them. She kept her gaze averted from Eduard as she smoothed her napkin onto her lap, and when she spoke, it was in clipped tones to the serving girl who brought her meal. Though they dined at the same table, Eduard was invisible to his wife.
Afterwards, he retired to the drawing room where he sank into the loveseat and watched the light fade from his windows. In the growing dusk, the day’s events seemed contrived, as though Reza’s presence had been just a dream. But if he breathed in deeply, Eduard imagined he could still smell the man’s wild scent, that patchouli smell, a mingled musk that reminded him of stormy weather on choppy seas and t
