To Love a Traitor

Chapter 1-2

The rest of the evening had passed agreeably enough. Miss Lewis, a nurse, had returned from her shift at the hospital and had revealed herself to be a sensible, pleasant young lady whose affections, it transpired, were already engaged by a young postman, so George felt himself in no danger of unwanted attentions from that quarter. Mrs. Mac’s cooking had proved to be as tasty as her portions were generous, and when George at last took his leave to return to his hotel for the final night, it was with a warm, pleasant feeling in his belly.

By midnight, however, the warmth had largely seeped away, replaced by an ice-cold sensation in the pit of his stomach that was no more welcome for being familiar. As he lay in the lumpy hotel bed, listening to the gurgling of the pipes, George wondered what on earth he thought he was doing. In all likelihood, Matthew Connaught was exactly what he seemed—a pleasant, engaging young man who’d sacrificed a limb in the service of his country.

And who’d no doubt utterly despise George for what he’d done, and for what he was now doing.

It had been freeing, at first, taking the name George Johnson and leaving Roger “Conchie” Cottingham far behind him. He’d thought he could leave the shame behind, too.

Now, though, he wondered if it would ever leave him, whatever name he bore.