She led him through a side entrance away from the main flow of guests, along a short corridor that smelled of old stone and fresh flowers. She was calm in the way that followed a decision rather than preceded one. Whatever came next, she was ready for it. She had been getting ready for it, she suspected, for nine years.
She found Richard at the bar, a glass of wine in hand, talking to Claire’s husband, Marcus. He saw Owen behind her and went very still. Marcus, reading the room, excused himself quietly. Helen stepped close to Richard and took his face in both hands.