Letty held the bay at a slow pace. She wanted Reid to concentrate on what she’d said, not on his horse. At the folly, she dismounted. Lucas and Tom’s horses were standing hipshot and half-asleep.
She glanced at Reid. He was looking particularly grim. What was he thinking behind that shuttered expression?
“You never saw the secret passage, did you? It starts down here.” Letty crossed to one of the crumbling stone buttresses. “See? This is actually a door.” She leaned her weight against a block of stone. It pivoted, exposing a steep, narrow staircase. She looked back at Reid. “Come on. We don’t need a lamp.”
For a moment it seemed that Reid would refuse, and then his mouth tightened and he crossed to the doorway, ducked his head, and entered. His glance as he passed was like a slap. Dislike glittered in his eyes.
Letty found herself frozen, unable to follow him, almost unable to breathe. He hates me.
She pressed her hands to her cheeks and inhaled a shaky breath.
Above, Reid’s boots scuffed on the stone steps.
Letty lowered her hands and blinked fiercely. She was not going to cry. She swung the door shut and set off up the staircase. It was almost as steep as a ladder. Daylight shone in from artistically placed gaps and—as they climbed higher—arrow slits.
These steps were steeper than those outside. It was exactly thirty-nine steps to the courtyard, and another twenty-one to the tower. Reid climbed all the way to the top, and halted. “How does this open?” There was no curiosity in his voice, no interest; just curtness.
“Press that stone there.”
The door swung open with a faint, gritty whisper.
Letty followed Reid out into the roofless tower. The crumbling walls soared high, pierced by arrow slits and little arched windows. Pigeons had nested on some of the sills. The floor was speckled with bird lime.
Reid crossed to the farthest windows and stared out towards the downs. Letty looked at the set of his shoulders, the set of his head, and turned away from him. She walked to one of the arrow slits above the courtyard and pressed her hands to her cheeks again. Foolish tears welled in her eyes. She blinked, and blinked again.
Lucas and Tom were visible below, Tom at his easel, Lucas in the gothic archway, feet apart, legs braced, shoulders back, an old rapier in his hand. He looked ready to spring into battle.
Letty blinked again, and sniffed. She was not going to cry.
Tom laid down his paintbrush. He walked over and took Lucas’s chin in his hand, tilted his head slightly—and kissed him.
Letty’s breath choked in her throat. Tom’s kissing Lucas?
She looked away, blinked several times—and looked back.
Lucas had dropped the sword. He was returning Tom’s kiss with fervor.
Letty had to remember to breathe, to swallow. Her heart was beating fast with shock, with disbelief. It’s not true, she told herself. It can’t be.
She turned away from the arrow slit, her mind almost blank with panic. Reid mustn’t see this. No one must see it.
She crossed to where Reid stood, staring out at the downs, and tried to find her voice. “That’s where we just were. See?” She pointed. “And over there, that single oak, they call that the gallows tree—not that anyone’s ever been hanged there, but it looks like a gallows—and up on that hill are two standing stones. There are lots of standing stones in Wiltshire! There’s a huge ring near Avebury, dozens of stones. And Stonehenge, of course. You’ve heard of Stonehenge?” She was babbling, the words spilling from her mouth. How long would Lucas and Tom kiss? “Can you see the two standing stones on the hill? If you look hard, you might be able to make them out.”
She left Reid at the window and hurried across to the arrow slit again. Please let them have stopped kissing.
Her plea was answered. Lucas and Tom were no longer kissing. Instead, Tom knelt in front of Lucas as if he was praying. What’s he doing?
Realization dawned. Tom’s kissing him down there.
Letty stared, transfixed with horror.
Lucas tipped his head back. His eyes were closed, his lips half-parted, his hands buried in Tom’s hair.
So that’s what bliss looks like.
Letty swallowed the lump in her throat and looked back at Reid. He was turning away from the window. She hurried across to him, feeling breathless with panic. “Let’s go back down to the horses.”
Reid put up his eyebrows. “But—”
“Tom’s busy painting. We don’t want to disturb him.”
“But—”
“We don’t want to disturb him!”
Reid’s eyebrows arrowed together in sharp suspicion. He stepped past her.
Letty grabbed his wrist. “No.”
Reid flexed his wrist and broke her hold. He crossed to the arrow slit in three swift strides and looked down—and froze.
Letty hastened after him. “Reid,” she said in a desperate whisper, tugging at his arm. “Please.”
Reid didn’t try to break her hold again. He turned and practically bundled her back to the secret doorway. “Down,” he said, his hand between her shoulder blades.
They descended the staircase in hasty silence. Letty’s thoughts tumbled over themselves. Lucas and Tom? Tom and Lucas? At the bottom, she opened the door and stumbled out into daylight. The horses stood where they’d left them. Letty stared at them. Shock rang in her ears. Lucas and Tom?
Reid caught her by the shoulder. “You did not see that,” he said fiercely.
Letty stared at him, unable to speak. Tom and Lucas?
“Do you hear me?” Reid shook her. “You did not see that. You are not going to tell anyone about it.”
Letty swallowed. “Of course I won’t tell anyone!”
Reid released her and turned away. He strode to her horse and cupped his hands. “Mount.”
Letty obeyed, putting her boot in his hands, letting him fling her up into the saddle. Reid swung up onto his chestnut. He looked extraordinarily grim, grimmer than she’d yet seen him.
They rode from the folly at a quiet trot. When they’d gone a hundred yards, Reid picked up the pace, keeping them at a canter all the way to the avenue of oaks. There, he slowed again. Letty came up alongside him. “Mr. Reid . . .” Her voice dried in her throat. She had no words to express her confusion, her dismay.
Reid halted. “If you have any regard for Matlock and your cousin, you’ll forget what you just saw.”
Letty gazed at him. Shock still rang in her skull. “Are Lucas and Tom . . . ?” She swallowed. “Are they . . . ?” She couldn’t bring herself to articulate the words.
“Matlock and your cousin are lovers,” Reid said bluntly. “And if you tell anyone, you’ll ruin them both.”
“Of course I’m not going to tell anyone! I tried to stop you from finding out.”
“So you did.” Reid’s expression relaxed fractionally. He gave a short nod.
Lucas and Tom are lovers? It seemed to Letty that the world had shifted on its axis, that everything had tilted sideways, that she was in danger of losing her balance.
“Their relationship is their private business and the best thing you can do—for them and for yourself!—is to forget what you saw.” Reid’s eyes held hers. “It didn’t happen.”
Letty swallowed, and found her voice. “It didn’t happen.”
Reid gave a curt nod, and nudged his horse into a trot.
Letty followed, feeling subdued and off-balance.
She didn’t see Tom until evening. He entered the salon where the household gathered for dinner and made his way across to her. “Tish, m’ love,” he said cheerfully. “Did you have a good afternoon?”
“Yes,” Letty lied. “I went riding with Mr. Reid. He asked me to pass on his regards; he’s leaving Marlborough tomorrow.”
“Leaving? I’m sorry to have missed him. A good man, Reid.”
“Yes.” Letty studied his face—an attractive, merry face. Tom Matlock. Earl’s son, artist, soldier. Sodomite? She should feel revulsion, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She loved Tom as much as she loved Lucas. Tom was family.
No, it wasn’t revulsion she felt; it was worry. Reid had been correct: one word, and Tom and Lucas would be ruined. They could end up in gaol, or worse, hanged.
The gong rang for dinner. Soberly, Letty made her way into the dining room. Soberly, she sat. She found Lucas at the long table—almost opposite her—and Tom, three places down from her. She unfolded her napkin and laid it on her lap and watched Lucas look round and locate Tom. The two men exchanged a glance.
It was the tiniest glance, no more than a second or two, and yet it was as private and intimate as if they’d reached across the table and touched each other’s fingertips.
Letty stared down at her lap. Her throat felt tight. She swallowed, and smoothed a wrinkle in her napkin. She’d known Lucas and Tom since she was a child. How had she failed to see that they loved each other?
It wasn’t until morning that Letty had a chance to speak with Lucas alone. She captured him in the breakfast parlor. “Come to the library; I need to talk with you.”
“Sounds ominous,” Lucas said. “Should I be worried?”
I am.
Letty closed the door and stood with her back to it, examining Lucas’s face. “How are you?” she asked bluntly.
“Never been better!” Lucas gave her a cheerful grin, and strolled across to one of the tall windows.
Letty followed him. “Truthfully, Lucas. How are you?”
“Never better,” he said firmly. “Do you think it will rain? I hope not. That painting’s still not quite finished.”
“Lucas, the truth.”
Lucas glanced at her, his grin still fixed on his face. “I told you—”
“I can hear when you’re lying.”
Lucas’s grin congealed into a grimace. He looked away, out the window. After a moment, he said, “So you can still do that trick?”
It’s not a trick, and I’ll be able to do it the rest of my life. “Yes.”
Lucas exhaled. The sound was almost a sigh.
Letty took his hand, interlacing their fingers. I love you, Lucas. “Truthfully . . . how are you?”
Lucas was silent for a long time. “I’ve been better,” he said finally. “But don’t worry about me, Tish. It takes time, is all.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
He gave her a sidelong glance and a wry, affectionate smile. “No, love. But thank you.”
Letty bit her lip, and then said, “I’m glad Tom’s back.”
“So am I.” Lucas looked out the window again.
“Does it help?”
“It helps a lot.” Lucas gazed out at the bleak winter landscape. Letty saw his lips compress. “I think he’s my savior,” he said, almost sadly, and then he shrugged off his pensive mood and grinned and said, “Or perhaps my ruin.” It was a joke—his flippant tone invited her to laugh—but her ears told her it wasn’t a joke, that he spoke the utter and absolute truth.
Letty found herself unable to return Lucas’s grin. She remembered the kisses she’d witnessed, remembered the intimate glance she’d observed at the dinner table. Theirs was a perilous relationship. One misstep and they would be each other’s ruin.
Lucas lost his grin. “Tish, don’t worry about me,” he said firmly. “I’ll be all right.”
You need to be more careful. Someone might find out.
Letty bit the tip of her tongue, holding the words back. She nodded, as if she believed him, and released Lucas’s hand.
Lucas took this as a signal the conversation was over. He turned away from the window. “When are you leaving?”
“At ten.”
“I’m going to Cornwall next month.” He crossed the library and held the door open for her. “Tom hasn’t seen Pendarve yet.”
Letty halted in the doorway.
Lucas raised his eyebrows. “Tish?”
“I love you,” Letty told him. “And if there’s ever anything I can do for you—anything—I hope you will tell me.”
“Of course I will,” Lucas said. “Honestly, Tish, don’t worry about me.”
Letty hugged him, burying her face in his shoulder for a brief moment, then stepped back. “Be careful!” she said fiercely.
Lucas blinked. “I’m always careful.” He looked at her, and his brow creased quizzically. “Tish? What’s this about?”
I know about you and Tom, she wanted to blurt.
“Nothing. Good-bye!” She smiled brightly and left Lucas standing in the doorway, a puzzled expression on his face.