Laura woke vaguely as Richard slipped into bed. He kissed her, rather clumsily in the dark on her ear, and she woke more properly.

"What time is it?" she murmured.

"After midnight. We stayed up talking." Richard put an arm around her and settled in close. "Go back to sleep, darling. I didn't mean to wake you."

"In a moment. The baby started kicking."

"What?" Richard fumbled under the sheets for her belly. "Where?"

"He's stopped now, and you wouldn't be able to feel it yet anyway. It's too faint. You'll have to wait a few weeks."

"That long?" He kissed the back of her shoulder, rough in his excitement. "Not fair."

"I'll remember that when the kicks start hurting," she said.

"Sorry." He kissed her again, more gently. She could smell the wine on his breath. It must have been a long, indulgent dinner. She thought he was even a little drunk. "You're the one who has the hard part." His kisses were now soft as the touch of a butterfly's wings, trailing down over her shoulder. "I wish I could do more to help."

"Darling, you're drunk," Laura said sleepily, nestling back into him. "I didn't mean it that way."

"But I mean it," he said, but by then she was asleep and did not hear it.

* * *

In the end, Giles found out from one of Albroke's maids where he'd gone, and all it cost him was a few kisses. As a bonus, he learned too that the bitch was pregnant.

"Bit of a surprise for us," the maid had said with a giggle. "We thought she was just getting fat, you know, now that she was married him, 'til she ordered the nurseries be cleaned. So now they've gone off to visit his brother, before her confinement comes."

At first it angered Giles to hear this development, but he realized, as he rode north in pursuit of his prey, that there was opportunity in it too. Merely revealing the letters to Albroke was too small an act of vengeance, too incomplete. It was his wife who would be hurt by that, not Albroke himself. But now the letters would not just embarrass Albroke's wife, but cast doubt upon the paternity of her child. Albroke could not help but be humiliated by that.

It still did not seem enough to Giles, but it was a hopeful beginning.

* * *

The first few days, Laura continued to feel strangely alone and out-of-place in Neil's house. Not that he was unkind to her — in fact, she could tell he was doing his best to make her feel welcome. And Verity was very thoughtful in making sure that Laura never had to ask for tea and sandwiches, never was made too tired by long walks or social calls or Annie's incessant energy. But Richard was very much absent from her.

The first day, he was away with Annie all morning in the woods, and when he came back, several cousins of Verity's had come to tea. Richard knew all of them. It was somewhat amusing to Laura, at first, to note how peeved Verity's female cousins were to see her and how pleasant they were by comparison to Richard. It became less amusing as Richard remained determinedly polite in the face of their flirtations. When the cousins left at last, Richard went out onto the terrace where he paced up and down with his stick thumping savagely against the flagstones.

"It was a great disappointment here, when word came that he was married," Verity said, following Laura's gaze. "My cousins were all vying for him."

"No really? I'd never have guessed."

Verity gave a half-smile, as if she wasn't sure if that was a joke or not. "They never had a chance, of course."

Laura could not feel flattered by that. "They are none of them ugly."

"Yes, but Richard—" Verity broke off. There was a long pause before she spoke again. "He was rather a committed bachelor, before you."

That night, Laura had hoped to join the others in conversation after dinner, but the baby had other plans, and she found herself shaken awake at eleven o'clock, where she'd fallen asleep on the couch after dinner, with Richard's coat laid over her.

"We're not going to have to carry you to bed are we?" Richard teased as she sat up, his coat slipping from her shoulders.

"No." She blinked. "Oh dear. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's fine." Richard pulled her to her feet and slipped his arm around her waist. "You prevented us from becoming a four and having to discuss if anyone wanted to play whist — we never do."

"Then what did you do?" she asked.

"Just talked."

She was sorry to have missed it. But, she reflected as she sleepily undressed, she might not have had anything to say.

* * *

It was a three-day journey to Cumbria. Giles did not give himself much time to rest, trading one horse for another at every posting inn, and only stopping for as long as it took him to sleep, shave, and eat. As he rode, his mind worked over his plan for revenge. To merely expose Albroke's wife would be too slight. He had to make Albroke hurt, the same way he had when he had come back to England to find Diana had died. The same way he had when he'd been forced to leave his home, twice now.

Albroke had to be left with nothing. Not his wife. Not his home. Not especially his reputation.

* * *

On the third day, Doctor Cavendish and two surgeons arrived from London. That meant that Verity and Neil were occupied all morning with them. Laura looked forward to having Richard to herself for a while after breakfast, however she made the mistake of suggesting a walk in earshot of Annie, who instantly invited herself along with them, killing any opportunity for intimacy. After, as they came back to the house, Laura hoped that perhaps she and Richard might find a secluded room to talk in private, but when they entered by the terrace they discovered Verity sitting alone on the drawing room couch in tears. Annie went running to her at once and was pulled into a tight hug. Richard bent over Verity, while Laura stood awkwardly behind him.

"Then it's bad news?" Richard said, very gently.

"No. Yes. I don't know." Verity took a deep breath. "I'm just scared. And I don't want Podge to see that, so I came in here."

"Mama." Annie pawed at Verity, almost in tears herself. "Are you ill?"

"No, darling." Verity kissed her and held her close. "I'm fine."

Even as she spoke, fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. Richard rubbed her shoulder and looked beseechingly at Laura.

"Can you take Annie upstairs?"

"Of course."

It was a relief for Laura to leave the room, but when they got to the nursery above, she found it was already occupied. Neil was holding Podge in his arms and talking with Cavendish. As Laura came in, his expression, already sombre, became almost angry. She gave Annie to the nurse and hurried away, feeling suddenly very much an intruder.

Back downstairs, she peered through the drawing room doorway, not daring to enter. Richard now had his arm around Verity's shoulders, and she was hunched over her knees with her hands covering her face.

"...more surgery next year and probably again after that. They might come back, might keep coming back, all his life..."

Perhaps Laura made a sound. Richard looked up, met her eyes, and shook his head ever so slightly. She slipped away down the corridor and out onto the terrace, where she was alone and had no chance of intruding on anyone. Her hand went unbidden to her belly. If her baby was a boy, they too would face what Verity now faced. After a first flush of anxiety, she became defiant. So be it. She would love a little boy with no legs at all, if it came to that.

She lingered on the terrace, waiting for Richard to come and find her. He would, she thought, want to talk to her about it. At last she heard a footstep behind her. She turned, but it wasn't Richard, only Cavendish. He bowed.

"I thought I'd come to see how you're going. Well, I take it?"

"Yes. But very often I get tired."

Cavendish nodded. "Rest as much as you feel you need. Try not to overtire yourself walking, or going about in this heat. You haven't done that today, have you?"

"A short walk, but I'm not tired now."

"You look a little pale." He came closer and took her wrist with disinterested habit. "Pulse a little rapid."

"It's just hearing the little boy has to have surgery. Ours might be a boy too."

"Try not to dwell on it." Cavendish let her wrist go. "Their little boy will be all well in the end, and so will yours."

Laura gave him a faint smile. "He — or she — is moving now. It started a few days ago."

"A good sign. That probably narrows it down to..." Cavendish frowned. "...Late December, I should think."

"Around then."

There was another footstep, and this time it was Richard. While Laura was still deciding how best to get rid of Cavendish, he called out that it was good fishing weather. Richard politely looked up at the sky and agreed. Cavendish mentioned in a hopeful voice that he had heard there was a river on the grounds. Richard was happy to show it to him, it wasn't far. Laura sighed and turned away to go indoors. Before she could open the door, Richard had taken two strides and stopped her, his hand at her waist, his voice in her ear. If Cavendish had had his hand on Laura's pulse just then, he might have been very worried indeed. But it slowed resentfully as Richard said, "Look, darling, don't go bothering Verity just yet, will you? She's in her room — best to leave her alone for a while."

"I won't go bothering anyone," Laura said, and went to play piano by herself in the empty drawing room where she vented her feelings on some of the angriest, moodiest pieces she knew. When that was done, she could get up and change for dinner quite calmly. Besides, as Cavendish and the surgeons were staying with them, and as Verity didn't scruple to invite a mere surgeon to her table, it was quite an entertaining dinner. At least until half-way through one very interesting tale about battlefield amputation, Richard interrupted sharply to say that the ladies were not liking it. Laura had been liking it, but when she looked down the table, she saw that Verity was very white. After that, the surgeons were too awed to speak, and Laura was rather irritated with Verity. Not that she didn't feel sorry for her, but there was something about the way it had been Richard that had leapt to her defense that annoyed Laura. She thought it ought to have been Neil who had done so.

While Verity and Laura were sitting in the drawing-room afterwards, Laura realized that the problem was that she didn't like sharing Richard. To share him with Neil was one thing, to share him with his work was another, but sharing him with other people wasn't something she was accustomed to do and it irked her. Particularly when some of those people were as trivial as Verity's cousins or Doctor Cavendish. And most particularly, she realized with a flash of guilt, when that other person was a dark-haired young woman, quite possibly prettier than herself, and certainly at the moment not so plump.

Verity caught her frowning and gave a start. "I'm sorry, you're not too tired, are you?"

"Not tonight," Laura said, rather grumpily, and to avoid conversation took to the piano again. She had an idea that Verity wanted to avoid talking too; they said barely a word until the men came back, and then Verity persuaded everyone to the noisy distraction of a round game. Laura was relieved when at last it was time to retire for the night. After she'd undressed, Laura went back into the bedroom to discover Richard already in bed, his reading glasses on his nose and a book in his hands. She sighed and got in beside him. He looked up, squinting over his glasses.

"You're in a black mood."

"No," Laura said, and turned over on her side away from him.

* * *

By the time Giles rode in to the sleepy, hilly, wooded countryside around Houglen, he knew what he planned to do to Albroke. He was prepared to be patient now. It might need to take time. He had to expose the letters to the world before he could move on with the rest of his plan. He flattered himself that it was very clever indeed. It answered in exacting detail all of his wishes to humiliate, hurt, and ruin Albroke, and best of all, he did not think there was any risk to himself. No one even knew he was in the country. He would exact his revenge and leave, and when the business of it all had died down, he would return to England as though he'd never even left.

He was very, very pleased with himself.

* * *

On the fourth day, Laura lingered lazily in bed in the morning while Richard got up and did — she knew not what, and did not care to ask. When she came down for breakfast at ten, she discovered that everybody was already there but Verity. Even Annie sat at the table next to Cavendish, peppering him with questions about skeletons.

Richard leaned over as she sat down. "Verity's not coming down today," he said. "Will you be mother?"

"Is it really so hard for a man to pour his own coffee?" Laura snapped.

On the other side of the table, Neil raised his eyebrows and then returned his gaze to his boiled egg. Richard looked momentarily hurt and then shrugged.

"I suppose not."

After that, Laura decided it was best to stay quiet through breakfast. When it was over, she went out onto the terrace to stand in the sun and Richard followed her. He held her hand as they walked.

"You don't like it here," he said.

"That's not true."

"You've been in a foul mood since we got here," Richard pointed out. "Darling, if you want, we can go home."

"I don't want."

"To be frank, we came at an awful time. Podge is having surgery tomorrow. Neil doesn't have any patience to spare if you try him. Verity's out of her mind with worry and shouldn't have to look after us, and she has been looking after you, particularly." A faint look of guilt passed over Richard's face. "I'd almost rather not be here myself."

It was the look of guilt that made Laura suddenly realize. She'd seen it before when Verity had touched Richard on the shoulder. Then, she had thought it was because he felt guilty for her being tired. Now, in a flash, she understood the real reason, understood why Richard never had a chance with his beloved, understood why Verity had said other women never stood a chance with Richard.

Verity was the woman Richard had fallen in love with.

* * *

The house stood halfway up a hill, facing west, with a little wood behind. Giles dared not go too close, for fear Albroke or his wife might recognize him. Instead, he approached it by degrees, first riding past the front and getting an overview, and then circling around behind and meandering on foot through the woods at the back. A mile or so into the woods stood a gamekeeper's cottage and some outhouses, but they were abandoned, with the windows broken and ivy growing through the walls. Giles ignored it and went on further, along the single, overgrown and crumbling road.

Another mile onwards, he came suddenly to a stone wall with an iron gate, and was surprised to find he was not the only one there. A man, short, plump, and middle-aged, stood peering through the iron bars of the gate at the house beyond. He turned as Giles approached.

"These woods are private land, you know," he said querulously.

"If I'm trespassing," Giles said contemptuously, "then so are you."

"That may be so." The man's bald round head bobbed. "It was not that I referred to. Haven't you noticed the condition of this woods? A man who has a private wood has an obligation to maintain it. Mr Armiger does not."

Giles narrowed his eyes. "I take it you don't like the man?"

The man shook his head, his second chin wobbling. "I do not like any of the" —he sniffed— "privileged classes."

"Then what are you doing here?" Giles asked, irritated.

"I was hoping to see his lordship, or her ladyship," the man said wistfully. "They are visiting Mr Armiger, you see, so I must find something to write about them."

"What do you mean, write? As a book?"

"I own a newspaper. You have not heard of it? The Radical Voice." A hint of pride came into the man's voice. "We are very popular in these parts."

It seemed that Providence was on Giles's side at last. He smiled and put his hand to his breast pocket to withdraw the packet of letters. "I think I know what you might write about."