Chapter 29

Unable to settle, George hauled himself back to his feet and paced. He wished—God, how he wished—he had someone to talk to. If only Mabel were here. They’d never spoken of his romantic leanings towards men, Mabel and he, but he rather thought she knew. As a nurse, she was no sheltered young lady. She’d no more seen the horrors of war firsthand than he had, but she’d seen the wrecks of men who came back from the Front. She’d understand, he was sure.

Or would she? To Mabel, Matthew Connaught was no more than the man who might have betrayed her fiancé to his death. She knew nothing of his ready smile, his open manner…

Damn it. George flung himself into his desk chair and took up his pen.

Dear Mabel,

This is a wretched business. I’m not sure how much longer I can stick it. The closer Mat—

George caught himself, and managed to obliterate his slip with an ink blot.