Chapter Fifteen
November 13th, 1808
Whiteoaks, Wiltshire
Tom Matlock was good to his word. He strolled into the stableyard at eight the next morning, very smart in a military-cut riding coat and gleaming boots. “This may be the most exciting morning of my life,” he confided, once they were trotting along the oak avenue. “Trysting with an heiress! Is it to be a special license, Tish, or do you want the banns to be read?”
“Tom, do be serious.”
“But,” Tom said, ignoring this request. “I feel it’s only fair to tell you that my heart belongs to another.” His tone was bantering, but there was a ring of pure truth to his words.
“I want to talk about Lucas,” Letty said.
Tom dropped his lightheartedness. “What about him?”
“How is he? Truly.”
Tom looked away from her, down the long line of
