Chapter Twenty-Three
December 14th, 1808
Whiteoaks, Wiltshire
Tom arrived close to dusk. Lucas followed Robert into the great entrance hall to greet him. Tom looked weary and travel-stained, his neckcloth limp, his coat creased, his jaw unshaven. Their eyes met. Tom gave a nod. A curt nod, not a casual, friendly nod.
“Glad to see you again,” Robert said, shaking Tom’s hand. “Heard the news yet?”
“What news?”
“You won’t believe it! None of us did. But I’ll let Lucas tell you. Make yourself at home, Tom.” He clapped Tom on the shoulder, and headed back to his study, his footsteps brisk.
Lucas and Tom looked at each other.
Emotions warred in Lucas’s breast—joy and sheer relief at seeing Tom again—and fear, because all the reasons he’d asked Tom to leave still existed. The drumbeat was
