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She managed to keep her foul mood at bay until they reached the fourth inn they’d visited that day, this one in the town of Sutton-on-the-Hill. She rode up to the mounting block so that she might alight and stretch her legs, but Nicholas had already jumped down and was at her side. He held out his hand, waiting expectantly.

“It must be becoming a bother, all of this helping me up and down from the saddle,” she said a touch peevishly.

If he picked up her tone, he didn’t show it. “It’s always a pleasure to help a lady.”

“I don’t feel particularly ladylike right now. I’m tired and hungry and all I want to do is sleep for two days straight.”

He gave her his own weary smile that left her wondering if he’d tossed and turned as she had. “We’ll be off the road soon enough.”

She wanted to believe him, but it felt as though this nightmare of a quest would never be over. Her position was almost surely lost. She had somewhere to go—Mary had made that clear—but a place to live was only part of the battle. She needed an income. As a governess, at least she’d had that. She could believe that her life had some purpose, and she could exercise a modicum of control over it. If she gave that up and lived off the charity of her friend, she’d have nothing.

“Jane,” Nicholas said, still looking up at her.

With a sigh, she put her hand in his and let him help her from her saddle. As always, his free arm went around her waist, and as always, her entire body flushed with heat. She’d admired his handsomeness before, but now, after that kiss that scorched her to her very soul, she wanted him the way ladies weren’t supposed to want anyone.

He set her down lightly, her skin still tingling with the ghost of his touch.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“It’s my pleasure.”

She glanced up at him, wondering if she’d imagined a gruffness in his voice that hinted at ardor, need, anything. But when she studied his expression, all she saw was the pleasant smile of a gentleman performing a duty for a lady. He’d probably offered that same assistance a thousand times over the years. This was no different, except that the woman he’d momentarily had in his arms was not some gentleman’s daughter best suited for a ballroom. It was just her.

“Do you want to come with me for this one?” he asked, nodding toward the front door over which hung a sign painted with a gray dog.

She needed a break—just a few minutes when she wasn’t seduced by the mere proximity of him. If only she could have that, she might shake some of the dangerous temptation that had settled in her and focus once again on the purpose of this foolhardy journey.

“I’ll stay out here,” she said.

Nicholas glanced about the innyard, no doubt assessing the people milling about. A stable boy was saddling a horse, and two men dressed in green livery were conversing near a large old-fashioned carriage.

“Go,” she urged. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll call out if anything happens? I’ll be just inside.”

She couldn’t help the smile that touched her lips as she waved him on. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

Whether he sensed her desperation to be left alone or just wanted to move on quickly when this too would prove to be an unfruitful stop, he nodded once and strode off.

Jane watched his retreating form and then huffed out a long breath, her arms crossed over her stomach. Finally, she was alone. Finally, she could just be.

With slow steps, she began a promenade around the yard. Her muscles, stiff from sitting on the horse for hours, screamed at her, but it was no worse than the bruises she’d sustained after her fall the day before. She hadn’t lied when she told Nicholas she was fine—she was—but when she’d undressed that night she’d hiked up her shift to examine an angry purple bruise on her hip. It made riding sidesaddle uncomfortable, to say the least.

Jane toyed with the edge of one of her cuffs as she approached the carriage parked near the stable. It might not have been à la mode, but it was a beautiful vehicle, all black lacquer with the carved details of the wheels picked out in gold leaf. Through the glass-paned windows she could see maroon silk curtains and the black quilted walls of the interior. She would’ve given her right arm to be able to climb inside and make the rest of this journey in comfort.

She was just passing the side of the carriage when something caught her eye: a carved crest on the door. She leaned a little closer to get a better look.

“Can I help you, miss?” a voice came behind her.

She jumped up like a child caught doing something she oughtn’t and spun around. One of the men she’d seen in livery before was watching from a few steps away, no doubt taking in her travel-stained clothes and her hair that was surely beginning to spring free from the twists she’d tried to tame it into that morning.

“I was just wondering who owns such a beautiful carriage,” she said.

The footman straightened and puffed out his chest. “The Marquis of Harlewood.”

Jane’s stomach dropped to the soles of her shoes. “And does the marchioness travel with him today?” she asked, her fists clenching so hard that her fingernails cut half-moons into her palms.

If the footman thought it odd that she asked specifically about a peer’s wife, he didn’t show it. “Lord and Lady Harlewood have just stopped for a late luncheon. The marchioness prefers to travel by carriage rather than by train.”