“I must ask your opinion,” said Louisa at the same time Fletcher said, “I want to apologize.”
Fletcher gestured toward the bench, and they both sat.
“You first,” said Fletcher.
She took a deep breath. “I am still cross with you, but I need an honest opinion.”
“Then I shall give one to you.”
She nodded. “All right. I have some suspicions about Rotherfeld.”
Fletcher held his breath. “What sort of suspicions?”
“I am probably imagining things, but I was with Rotherfeld tonight when we greeted the Marquess of Beresford, and…” She frowned. “I’ve spent enough time around them that I know Beresford and Waring have an unusual relationship.”
Something in Fletcher warmed. Perhaps he would not have to break this terrible news to her. He’d been trying to work out how all night. “Yes,” he said.
“They are…” Louisa shook her head. “They are lovers, are they not?”
Fletcher could tell by her body language that the idea made her uncomfortable. “Not currently, as far as I know, but they have been in the past, yes.”
“I’ve heard that people who prefer their own sex are not uncommon.”
“That is true. Not common, as such, but they exist.” Fletcher was somewhat relieved he wouldn’t have to explain this to her, and perhaps more relieved to let her into the small circle of people who knew about whatever was going on between Lark and Anthony.
“The idea of it…I don’t quite understand it. Women do not appeal to me in that way.”
“Nor do men appeal to me, but some people are just…built differently.”
“Do you think it’s a sin?”
“It’s not really my place to say. I generally think people should make their own choices. And I’ve spent enough time with Waring and Beresford that I know how much they cared for each other. Or, I suppose they still do, but things are complicated because of Beresford’s marriage and…anyway, it’s not really my business.”
“Right. Just, when Rotherfeld greeted Beresford tonight, he used his Christian name, which may not mean anything, but Rotherfeld told me they barely knew each other. If that were the case, he wouldn’t feel comfortable calling Beresford ‘Anthony.’”
Fletcher nodded. “Why would he lie to you about not knowing Beresford?”
“Exactly. And then, a little while later, we spoke with an old school friend, a Lieutenant Hanley.”
The name rang a bell. Fletcher wracked his brain. “Ah…Hanley. A relation to Chatterton?”
“His younger brother.”
“Yes, of course. What happened when you spoke to him?”
“It’s not anything specific. Just something about Rotherfeld’s posture. The way they spoke and touched each other. It seemed…intimate. Please tell me I’m imagining things.”
Fletcher closed his eyes, hating himself a little bit. He didn’t want to destroy her. But he said, “You are not imagining things.”
Her eyes went wide. “I’m not?”
“I have been wanting to speak with you so I could tell you. Beresford confessed me that he and Rotherfeld were lovers many years ago.”
Louisa gasped and put a hand over her mouth.
“I hate to be the one to tell you this. It’s…awkward, no?”
“It is, but I want to know the full truth.”
