My dearest Booke,
I have returned to Wansdyke. When I stepped out of the carriage, I was astonished that nothing had changed, for I felt that I had grown so much older. I even checked my reflection in a mirror as I washed the road grime from my face and neck, thinking that surely I must have aged while I was away!
Catherine squealed like a child when she came into the drawing room and found me. I do love her so!
While I was on the road, I mentally composed a letter. Can you guess to whom? No?
I am teasing you.
No, it is not to Mr. Dryden. I am done with lies and half truths. I am also done with apologies for lies and half truths.
It is a letter to Louisa.
I know I do not need to tell you what I said. But there were no lies or half truths in it.
I am so tired now, dear Booke. I must
