Chapter Twenty-Two
November 18th, 1808
Whiteoaks, Wiltshire
In the morning, her nighttime fears seemed faintly foolish. Letty’s certainty became doubt. By the time she’d eaten her breakfast, she’d convinced herself that her imagination had been overactive. Reid was no more going to kill himself than he was going to grow wings and fly to the moon. His bleakness yesterday, the despair she’d glimpsed in his eyes, were entirely natural—given what had happened to him at Vimeiro—but he had too much strength of character to commit suicide. Reid was a soldier. If he was backed into a corner, he’d fight his way out; he wouldn’t turn his face to the wall and die.
Accordingly, when Sir Henry Wright asked to speak with her privately, Letty was able to give him her full attention.
Sir Henry didn’t
