Tommie had reason on his side. From his perspective, this journey was purely one of loss.

“The Atlantic Ocean is merely a lot of salt water,” Tremont said. “Do you know some ships cross the whole thing in little more than a fortnight? Those ships carry letters, and I am hoping you will write to me.”

“My lord…” Matilda began. Correspondence was not in her plans. Correspondence could ruin everything.

“Will you write to me?” Tommie asked, knuckling an eye. “I can write my name and spell Arthur and Tidbit and Mama.”

“Matilda?”

“I have told Portia I will write to her. I’m sure any correspondence for Tommie that she receives from you, my lord, she will be happy to forward to us. If Tommie is inclined to write to you, Portia will doubtless send his letters on to you as well.”

Even that compromise left Matilda uneasy, and Tremont clearly hated it.

“You see?” he said, setting Tommie on his feet. “We will become loyal correspondents, and you will tell me all about your travels and the new friends you make. You must practice your penmanship so I can make out your words easily. Shall we shake hands in parting?”

He extended a hand to Tommie, and Tommie shook, then wrapped his arms around Tremont’s waist. “Please look after Arthur and Tidbit and the goats and Tuck and Jensen and all the rest, sir. I will write to them too.”

The lump in Matilda’s throat eclipsed Gibraltar by an order of magnitude. “The bedroom is through there,” she said, pointing to an open door. “Decide which side of the bed you want, Tommie, and get Copenhagen acquainted with his new paddock.”

Tommie cantered off, waving his horse, and Tremont watched him go.

“Do you truly object to letters, Matilda?”

“If you are merely being considerate of a small boy’s homesickness, no, I do not object, but you must not try to follow us.”

Tremont ran a hand through his hair. “I have no great wish to see Philadelphia, but if dear Harry should be run down by a dray Wednesday next, I would most assuredly want to convey that development to you. I can guarantee I will hear that news before Portia does.”

“Harry would never be so obliging as to step out in front of a heavy vehicle.”

Tremont smiled crookedly. “Suppose not. I’ve sent for his sister, though. She might knock him flat for us.”

“You did what?”