She picked up a scone and smiled when she realized that jam and butter had been sandwiched in the center. She bit into it, and though it was cold, it filled the empty space in her belly, and, as always, she delighted in the sweetness of the jam on her tongue.
Nicholas helped himself to a wedge of cheese and a piece of cured meat and ate one after the other, then chased it down with a gulp of water from the bottle. He passed it to her, and she felt warm and tingly inside as she drank too. There was something ridiculously intimate about putting her mouth where his had just been.
When they finished breakfast, Nicholas returned the basket to its place beneath the seat, and they chatted about things they saw out the window. She grew restless quickly but didn’t ask to stop. He was also fidgeting. After riding to Nunhaven on horseback, being cooped up like this must be difficult.
“What will happen with your horse?” she asked, realizing only now that the gelding obviously wasn’t one of the horses strapped to the carriage.
“I paid rather handsomely for one of the stablehands to ride him to Blackwell Estate, and I made sure to inform Lord Wembley in the letter I left for him so the boy wouldn’t suffer any consequences for not turning up to work for a few days.”
Sophie nodded, relieved that the horse hadn’t been forgotten. She’d have felt terrible if he’d been left at Nunhaven and they had to come up with a plan to retrieve him.
As the sun rose higher in the sky, the carriage grew hotter and hotter. It had been quite pleasant at dawn, but by noon they were sweltering. Even with the window open as wide asit could go, sweat beaded at Sophie’s hairline and dampened the small of her back.
She thanked her lucky stars that she didn’t get sick from riding in carriages like Betsy did because the heat combined with nausea would be too much to bear.
In an attempt to distract herself, she climbed onto Nicholas’s lap and kissed him. His eyes widened, but he returned the kiss enthusiastically, holding her securely in place and stealing her breath and her thoughts.
Unfortunately, they had to stop when they got too sweaty and the embrace became unpleasant.
They sat on opposite sides of the carriage, giving each other plenty of space, and Sophie was grateful for that as the afternoon stretched on because she certainly didn’t smell as fresh as she might want to.
Long after the sun had dipped below the horizon, they entered the town of Market Weighton.
Sophie ached with weariness. Both her bottom and her back were sore from sitting all day, but restless energy crawled beneath her skin, and she couldn’t stop jiggling her leg. How was it that she was both tired and restless simultaneously?
Either way, she desperately needed to get out of the carriage.
She looked out the window, watching the blocky brick buildings pass by. The road was wide here and smoother than in the country. Few people were out and about, but the lights of an inn drew her attention.
“Are we traveling much farther tonight?” she asked, hoping the answer would be no even as she knew it would likely be yes.
A large hand settled on her thigh. “No. We’ll stop here for the night.”
She dropped her head back and sighed, the tension draining from her. “Thank God.”
Nicholas stuck his head through the window and called to the driver to stop at the inn. As soon as the carriage came to a halt, Sophie threw the door open and spilled out, her legs as weak as pudding after not being used all day. She stumbled, righted herself, and turned as Nicholas exited far more gracefully than she.
A stableboy ran up to them, and Nicholas slipped him a coin to take care of the horses after the driver disconnected them from the carriage. Then, he grabbed his bag in one hand and Sophie’s slightly larger one in the other. She started to reach for it, determined to help, but he stopped her with a look.
“I’ve got this,” he said, bouncing the bags up and down, showing just how little the weight bothered him. “Why don’t you tell the innkeeper that Mr. and Mrs. Thompson need a room for the night while I bring our bags in?”
She snorted. “Mr. and Mrs. Thompson?”
He raised an eyebrow. “What? If we want to share a room, then we must be married, and if either of us uses our actual name, it might be recognized.”
She shook her head, knowing he was right but amused regardless. She rolled her shoulders, then discreetly stretched out each of her legs before marching to the inn’s front door.
A friendly gentleman greeted her, and she kept her hand in her pocket as she asked for a room. She didn’t want him to notice that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
He showed her upstairs into a rather plain room with off-white, unadorned walls, a wooden floor, a bed that would only just be large enough for both of them to fit, and a small table upon which a pot of tea and two cups already awaited. Someone must have noticed them arriving and informed the kitchen.
“Dinner will be brought up in about an hour,” the innkeeper told her, backing toward the door and almost bumping into Nicholas.
“Thank you,” Sophie said, looking about in search of a tub. “Is there…?”
She wasn’t sure how to phrase the question without being indelicate. She was more accustomed to asking female servants to prepare a bath for her than strange men.
When she trailed off, Nicholas glanced at her and seemed to read her mind.
