Chapter Nine
October 10th, 1808
Whiteoaks, Wiltshire
Tom hadn’t visited Whiteoaks in more than two years. It hadn’t changed: a glittering, sharp-edged marble palace surrounded by perfectly sculpted parkland.
The curricle’s arrival brought Kemps hurrying down the long sweep of marble stairs.
Lucas’s oldest brother Robert—who’d inherited the palace a decade ago—wrung his hand enthusiastically and Robert’s wife, Almeria, embraced him and kissed him on each cheek, and their children pressed forward, half-shy, half-eager, calling him Uncle Tom.
It felt almost like coming home. He’d spent months of his life at Whiteoaks—practically every holiday while he was at school and university, almost every furlough since joining the army. He climbed the familiar stairs and entered the familiar bedch
