This would be a journey from hell, he already knew. To have her so close with their last words echoing in the space between them was a torment from which there could be no escape.
And, damn him, he still wanted her. Even now, when there was no hope, he wished he could capture her lips under his and remind himself one last time of how her body felt as he pushed into her.
At his tap on the roof, the groom flicked his whip and the horses started into motion. The carriage rocked, and Henry wished he could put out the light so they would be cast in darkness.
Even so, there would be no chance of sleep.
Minutes ticked by with the silence deepening between them. Their proximity put him at liberty to notice that her eyes looked a little heavier than they had when they’d last met. A little more tired, as though something weighed on her mind as much as it weighed on his.
Unfortunately, that something was more likely to be the blackmail she was fighting to resolve rather than the brief moments of bliss they had shared.
Still more unfortunately, that knowledge did not stop him fantasising, with reckless abandon, what might have happened if she had said yes to his ill-thought-through proposal.
Perhaps an hour into their journey, her head jerked up and she looked him full in the face. “Are you silent because you have run out of things to say?” she demanded. “Or because you have no wish to say them to me?”
He did his best not to squint, or groan, or drag his hand down his face in exhaustion. “I hardly thought you’d want to speak to me.”
“Well, you are not my first choice for carriage companion.” Her voice was tart. “But I would rather we speak than sit here in this dreadful silence.”
“It’s late,” Henry said, wishing he did not want to kiss her quite so badly. “We could try sleeping.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Will you sleep?”
“No.”
“Neither will I. So.” She laced her fingers and wrapped them over her knees as she drew them underneath her. “How did you persuade Caroline to give you the letters?”
“There was no persuasion necessary. I merely asked.”
“You must have got quite the knack for it since we parted.”
His temper rose. “For that, you would have to ask her.”
“No doubt she had her reasons. Did Knight see you?”
“No.”
“Good. Then at least there’s that.”
Unable to help himself, he leant forward on the seat. “I must ask, Louisa—are you truly going to use the girl against Knight if he refuses to back down?”
“Why?” she asked softly, her eyes luminous despite the dimness of the carriage. “Would you think less of me?”
The word came to his lips as though compelled. “Yes.”
For a moment, he thought she would not answer. Then she shook her head, a small, reluctant smile playing across her lips. “The contrary part of me wishes I could tell you that I will stop at nothing, but . . .”
“Honesty.”
“But I won’t harm her, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He nodded, accepting her answer. It was one thing to threaten Knight with the harm of his sister, one thing for him to believe it; another entirely for her to carry out her threat.
“In fact,” Louisa continued thoughtfully, one finger pressed to her chin, “I may endeavour to bring her back, if I can discover where she is and what her situation is. Not an easy feat, I’ll wager, but it seems cruel that she should suffer for the sins of her husband. Or her brother.”
Henry had not thought it had been possible to love her more; it transpired he was mistaken.
“Why are you returning to London?” she asked.
