Chapter Eighteen
They all rode back to Whiteoaks together, Lucas and Tom, the girls, the governess, the groom who’d accompanied them. Lucas stayed as far from Tom as he could. He conversed with the governess in awkward, stilted sentences. Did she know what she’d almost stumbled upon? By the time they reached the stableyard, he was fairly certain she didn’t.
They’d been lucky. Undeservedly lucky.
He dismounted and gave his mount to a groom.
“Lu,” Tom said.
“Not now,” Lucas said, brushing past him. Not now. Not ever again.
He climbed the stairs to his bedchamber fast, and stripped off his riding clothes. His hands were shaking. “Pantaloons and Hessians,” he said to Smollet. “The bronze green tailcoat. And a fresh neckcloth, please.” No more riding alone with Tom. No more trysts. Why di
