Dear Gussie, she wrote. Then paused, chewing on the end of the quill. She couldn’t very well write, I’ve brought a notorious rake home with me and have been living with him. He has such a dreadful reputation Justin wouldn’t introduce him to me, even though he is an officer.
She rested her head in her hands for a moment or two. There must be a way to allay her sister’s concerns without telling an outright lie.
I am in Brussels, she wrote, with a defiant tilt to her chin. She didn’t want to keep her totally in the dark, the way her husband was so determined to keep her in the dark. It simply wasn’t right!
But neither could she tell the whole truth.
I think I went a little mad when Blanchards told me Gideon was dead. Of course, I know, really, that Blanchards wouldn’t lie to me about something like that, but then, he might have been mistaken, mightn’t he? The report might have been sent in error, or something. Anyway, I felt that I couldn’t believe it, the way you both did, without proof. I ended up going as far as the battlefield to search for answers and stumbled across Justin instead. He is gravely ill and needs constant care.
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