Chapter Sixteen
November 19th, 1808
Whiteoaks, Wiltshire
Whiteoaks was slowly emptying, his brothers, sisters, cousins and their assorted spouses, children, nursemaids, abigails, and valets departing. When Bernard told him he was leaving that morning, Lucas suppressed a silent Thank God. When Tish told him she was leaving, too, he felt the opposite emotion. “Must you?”
“Yes,” said Tish. “Come to the library; I need to talk with you.”
“Sounds ominous,” Lucas said. “Should I be worried?”
Tish didn’t reply. She led him briskly to the library, closed the door, and stood with her back to it, her eyes intent on his face. “How are you?” she asked bluntly.
Lucas gave an inwards flinch. He fixed a smile on his face. “Never been better.” He strolled to one of the tall windows.
Tish followed
