Laura told herself that she would choose the right moment to tell Richard. But there didn't seem to be a right moment. He was so happy these days that she didn't want to spoil it by bringing the matter up. Several times, she started to tell him, only to cowardly back out after a few words. The secret weighed on her; every morning, she woke up decided to tell him today, and every night, she fell asleep having not done so.

They left London, stayed at Albroke two weeks, and were on their way to Neil's house in Cumbria. The journey was harder than Laura had anticipated. She was no longer sick now, but she was easily tired and her back ached from the heat and discomfort of the carriage. By the last night of their journey, she had barely enough energy to eat a light supper with Richard before going to their room to rest. She had a novel that she was supposed to be reading but she hadn't even the energy to concentrate on it. Instead, she left it abandoned on the bed and went to sit by the window, trying to cool herself in the faint breeze. Despite wanting Richard to make up with Neil, she was nervous about meeting him again tomorrow. For all it would be nice to be friends with her husband's brother, for all it seemed that Neil himself was eager to bury the hatchet, she could not quite conquer the doubt that they would never truly like each other.

The sun set, and stars began to dot the sky. Laura sat there in the semi-dark until the door opened and a soft glow filled the room: Richard was standing in the doorway, holding a candle. He stopped there, looking at her with a faint smile on his face.

"What is it?" she asked.

"You. Just you." He left the candle on the mantel and came over and kissed her. "You make me so happy."

Her heart beat faster at his touch. He kissed her again, more deeply, his arms winding around her. At first she melted into his touch, then his words sparked within her the memory of Mr Percival saying he would make her happy. Suddenly all she could think of was Percival's expression when she'd shoved him away. Wounded, like she'd hit a dog or a child.

"What's wrong?" Richard asked, drawing back.

She had to tell him.

"Laura?" he touched her cheek. "Something's up, isn't it?"

She gave him a weak smile. "There's something I want to talk about."

"And I've been waiting all day for you — no I'll wait a little longer, don't hurry yourself." He drew up a chair and sat down. "Here, now I won't be tempted. What is it?"

"It's about something that happened when I was married to Maidstone — something I did."

An emotion flitted across Richard's face for a moment, but he controlled it.

Laura sat down on the window sill. "I told you I'd planned to... betray him, the way he'd always said I'd done."

"Yes," Richard said, after a pause. "I remember."

"Well. I went through with it." She swallowed. "I lied to you about that. I really did it. It was the morning of the day he died. So he never found out. But I did it."

Richard was looking at her through narrowed eyes. She couldn't read his expression. Did he hate her for it? She almost hated herself for it.

"Why are you telling me now?" he asked.

"Because I don't want to keep secrets from you. And that's a big... secret." She covered her face with her hands and spoke through them. "Elizabeth keeps secrets from Farthingdale. I don't want to be like her. She said she loved him once — and I always want to love you."

"Always," Richard said, getting up and pulling her hands from her eyes. "Look at me."

She met his eyes and was relieved to see there was no condemnation in them, only a dull sadness.

"I knew," he said. "I suspected the night that you first told me about it."

"What?"

"Yes. You're not actually a good liar, darling." He still held her hands in his and squeezed them lightly. "And much later, Neil told me enough to confirm it."

Her surprise became fear. "No."

"He said that he overheard you and a man in the drawing room, talking about it. The man you had... been with. It was the night of Lady Roynor's party."

She felt faint. "He— he made as though he hadn't — he listened and..." She remembered the impassive expression on Neil's face. "Why didn't he say something?"

"Because he's a fool." For the first time, there was the faintest ripple of anger in Richard's voice. "That's what we fought about, really. I was furious that he could listen while another man harassed you and not intervene."

"I don't know. I was cruel to Percival — very cruel."

"Did he hurt you?"

She hesitated. "He kissed me."

Richard's hand tightened on hers.

"Don't be angry," she said.

His hand loosened. "Not with you. I'm angry with Percival."

"I made him think he loved me. Made him think I loved him."

"You didn't make him kiss you."

"I still used him." Tears of shame pricked in her eyes. "I used the way Maidstone treated me to make him feel sorry for me. I manipulated him."

"And that was wrong," Richard said, brushing her hair back from her face. "But it doesn't make him kissing you right, and I beg you the privilege, darling, of allowing a husband to be angry with the man who has done that to his wife."

She gave a weak laugh and caught Richard's hand, curling her fingers around his own."He's not a bad person — he's just weak. I used that, to hurt Maidstone. And in the end it was useless, and all I did was hurt him."

"And yourself." Richard pulled her to her feet. "Are you crying?"

"Yes."

"Come here."

He pulled her into his arms and held her close. She clutched at him, feeling raw and drained.

"I'm glad you told me," he said, kissing her hair. "I trust you, and I want you to know that you can trust me."

"I do," she said. "From now on, I want to be completely honest with you. No more secrets."

"No more secrets," he repeated. "Laura, there's something I've been wanting to ask you."

"What is it?"

"When it went wrong, last time, with Maidstone's baby... what happened?" Richard swallowed. "I want to know so that... well..."

Laura drew back sharply. Richard let his arms drop from around her and she took the opportunity to turn away from him, going back to the window and drawing the curtains. There was a lump in her throat just thinking about it. She didn't know how to speak of it.

"You don't... don't have to tell me," Richard said from behind her. "Not if it's too hard to speak of."

"It's not that," she said. "It's just that I don't know. The baby came, and when it did it was dead. That's what happened. I don't know why. It just did."

The breeze from outside ruffled the curtains. Laura fixed them tighter, unwilling to shut the window on the stuffy room. She could hear Richard moving behind her, the rustle of his clothes as he took off his coat and cravat, the thump of one of his boots on the floor.

"I'm sorry." Another thump, another boot. "I shouldn't have asked."

"No secrets," she repeated, wiping her eyes and crawling into bed. "You can ask me anything. But I don't have an answer."

Richard said nothing more as he washed and finished undressing. She thought he was lost for words. So when he got into bed with her, she told him whatever she could remember.

"I thought I was lucky — lucky to get with child so quickly, lucky to have it so easy." She traced her hand over the swell of her belly. "It was another of the reasons that Maidstone thought it wasn't his — he thought maybe it started before we were married because I didn't bleed after."

"You eloped with him, and still waited to be married first?" Richard asked.

"That surprises you?"

He nudged her gently. "You weren't so shy with me."

"I liked you better." She took in the wayward curl falling over his forehead, the familiar, friendly lines around his eyes, the twist of his lips. "I was a virgin, see. I was scared. Making him marry me first made me feel safer. I was wrong about that."

"A natural mistake." Richard wormed his arm under the pillows, around her shoulders. "I..."

"What?"

"I'm curious about what you were like before you were a... knowledgeable little demon." He sounded almost apologetic.

"Clumsy," Laura said decidedly. "And very confused."

Richard laughed. "Really?"

"Really." She rested her head on his shoulder and breathed in his scent. His fingers were playing with the sleeve of her nightgown. She was starting to feel better, less raw inside. "I have another secret."

"What?"

"I want five children."

"Five!?"

"Five." She patted her belly. "If you can do it once, you can do it five times. And, Richard, you've got the easier half of the job."

He broke out into wheezing laughter, shaking against her. "Laura, darling... don't you think we should get this one done with first?"

"We can plan ahead," she said stubbornly. "We can practice." She slipped her hand under the blanket and down the inside of his thigh, feeling him respond to her touch. "Make love to me."

It was a bittersweet love-making that night, with sadness on both sides. But comforting too, to be with him, and to know that this was right. Maidstone had been wrong. Percival had been wrong. But with Richard everything felt right. Afterwards, they lay in each other's arms, Richard tracing circles on her belly.

"It won't go wrong this time," he said.

"It won't." Laura didn't know if he was trying to convince her or himself, but she believed it. She felt at peace about the future. No matter what happened, she loved Richard, and he loved her. From that foundation, all ills could be conquered. Her mind drifted to something Richard had told her long ago.

"There's one secret I want to know," she said sleepily. "Richard, who was she, the woman you fell in love with?"

His arms around her stiffened.

"I— it was a long time ago." He sounded bewildered. "I can't tell you her name."

"Why not? I wouldn't repeat it to anyone."

"Because it's not my secret alone."

And like that, a crack appeared in Laura's foundation.

* * *

Giles Fordham came into England through Holyhead by way of Dublin, because he knew his brother had friends in London, and his brother had forbidden him ever to return. He didn't yet know what he was going to do with the letters, but the mere thought of them filled him with glee. Every night on the ship, he had read them before he went to sleep. There were only three, and they were not long. It was not many weeks before he had them by heart. Still, it tickled him to imagine what Albroke would do when he saw them.

They proved, he thought, that Albroke's wife was a slut. But it was not the wife he wanted to hurt, it was Albroke himself. And as he travelled, Giles's unsubtle, slow-moving mind worked away on how he might do so.