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"Don't intimidate her with your glacial stare. Don't correct her grammar or pronunciation. Don't reference obscure legal precedents in casual conversation. Generally, try not to be yourself for the duration of her visit."
Despite myself, I felt my lips twitch with something resembling amusement. "You have such faith in my social graces."
"I have faith in your capacity for civility when properly motivated." Her voice softened. "She's important to me, Edward. Lili's had a difficult time lately—the London expansion isn't going well, and she's quite far from home. All I'm asking is that you refrain from making her feel more out of place than she already does."
The vulnerability in Daphne's voice stirred something protective in my chest—an emotion I rarely allowed myself to experience.
Despite our differences, despite the eight years between us, Daphne remained one of the few people capable of penetrating my carefully constructed defenses.
"Very well," I conceded. "I shall endeavor to be welcoming."
"Promise me you won't terrorize her."
"I don't terrorize people, Daphne. I merely hold them to appropriate standards."
"That's exactly what I'm afraid of."
We spoke for several more minutes about Mother's latest social campaigns and Daphne's plans for the season, but my thoughts kept drifting to this Lili Anderton who'd somehow earned my sister's fierce protection. The name felt familiar, though I couldn't place where I might have encountered it.
After we’d rung off, I found myself staring at the phone with uncharacteristic indecision. Daphne's defensive tone suggested this friend meant more to her than casual university acquaintances typically did. And the coincidence of the television company...
I dismissed the thought. London's business world was smaller than it appeared—such coincidences occurred regularly in a city where American companies frequently established European headquarters.
My morning calendar included a crucial meeting with Sir Malcolm Pemberton, the patrician senior partner who'd recruited me from chambers fifteen years ago with promises of challenging cases and substantial remuneration. He'd delivered on both counts, though the challenges had grown routine and the remuneration, while considerable, had lost its power to motivate.
His corner office commanded an even more impressive view than mine, though he'd maintained the traditional aesthetic of old money—Chippendale furniture, Persian rugs, and legal tomes bound in leather that actually showed signs of use.
The morning light filtered through leaded windows, casting everything in the amber tones of old wealth and older privilege.
"Edward." He looked up from a stack of documents, his silver hair catching the light like spun mercury. "Please, sit. I trust the Meridian acquisition concluded to everyone's satisfaction?"
"Unanimous jury verdict in our favor. They'll appeal, naturally, but the precedent has been established. The consolidation will proceed as planned."
"Excellent." He set aside his papers with the deliberate movements of someone who'd never hurried for anything in his seventy-three years. "I have something rather intriguing to discuss. We've been approached by a consortium of investors regarding a series of American media acquisitions."
I leaned forward slightly, maintaining the carefully neutral expression that had served me well in such meetings.
Sir Malcolm never presented opportunities lightly—each case he offered had been chosen with strategic precision.
"The portfolio includes several regional television stations, some digital content platforms, and what might charitably be called specialty programming." He reached for a leather folder that bore the firm's embossed seal. "One component particularly caught my attention—a shopping channel operation based in Texas."
Something cold shifted in my chest. "Shopping channels aren’t really in our wheelhouse."
"Indeed. However, this particular enterprise—Gardens & Home Television—possesses some surprisingly valuable broadcasting licenses. The American Federal Communications Commission has been remarkably restrictive about issuing new permits, making existing licenses quite coveted commodities."
I maintained my composed exterior while my mind raced.
"The shopping channel itself appears to be a minor component," Sir Malcolm continued, seemingly oblivious to my internal calculations. "Late-night programming, garden tools, camping equipment—decidedly niche market appeal. However, the investors believe the American direct-to-consumer market could prove quite lucrative if properly exploited."
"And you believe I'm suited for this acquisition?"
"Your expertise with media consolidation makes you ideally qualified. The American operation has recently expanded toLondon—some sort of idealistic attempt to crack the British market."
He slid the folder across his desk with practiced ease. "Initial research suggests they're struggling considerably. Financial records indicate the London branch is hemorrhaging capital faster than a punctured oil tanker."
I accepted the documents, noting their substantial weight. "When would negotiations commence?"
"No particular urgency. The investors are content to conduct thorough due diligence before making their formal offer. However, I wanted you to familiarize yourself with the particulars." His pale eyes studied me with sharp intelligence. "Something about this transaction strikes me as potentially complicated."