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Charles was overcome with exhaustion, as well, but he had no desire to end the day. Tomorrow would bring Grendale, his parents, and the Oakleys, and he was not quite ready to face any of them. He enjoyed Marie’s company too greatly to have to share her with anyone.

More than that, he couldn’t help but fear that he and Marie might fall into who they were before. He, a juvenile individual, and she, a woman who could not be herself. Would their delicate marriage stumble upon such rocky ground?

These concerns and more continued to billow around him until his exhaustion finally overcame him, and his eyes drooped to a close.

Charles didn’t know how long they’d been asleep for when a loud clunk and a jostle launched him against the carriage wall, bringing Marie to fall right into the side of him.

She yelped, and he reached out, holding her securely to keep her uninjured as the carriage tilted to its side.

Chapter Twenty-One

“What the devil!” Charles exclaimed as the horses whinnied outside and men began to shout.

The carriage stilled, tipped back on one side so he and Marie were pressed firmly against the side wall and back seat.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice filled with fright in the darkness.

Charles looked out the window, but all was black. “The carriage must have thrown a wheel.”

Sure enough, a moment later, the footman came in with a harried expression. “Forgive me, Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd. The carriage lost a wheel.”

“Any chance of fixing it tonight?” Charles asked, attempting to lean forward.

“Mr. Lloyd is looking into it, sir.”

But the groom could not fix the damage with the darkness so thick, nor could he when Charles and the footman came to help.

Sorting through the options, Charles returned to Marie, who he’d encouraged to remain inside the carriage. “We cannot stay here in the darkness and cold all night, so we have two choices. We can continue attempting to fix the wheel—though there isn’t much hope as none of us are particularly versed in carriage mending. Or we unhitch the horses, and the four of us walk back a mile to where we passed a small inn not long ago.”

Marie’s brows knit together. “What do you prefer?”

“I believe our best option is the inn. We’ll be dry and warm there. Tomorrow morning we can look into finding the nearest stagecoach.”

“Very well,” she agreed.

“I should warn you, though. The inn...might not be what you are used to.”

Charles, himself, had stayed in many uncleanly living quarters on his journeys around the country and throughout Europe. He was fine with such despondent circumstances, but to subject a lady to such—to subject his wife to such—was not something he wished to do.

Marie looked concerned for a brief moment, then brushed it aside with a smile. “Our next adventure, I suppose.”

Charles had never been more attracted to her.

He took her hand, and together they walked through the darkness toward the inn, the groom and footman leading the two horses behind.

Upon arrival at the Blind Goose, the groom and footman found a place for the horses in the stables at the back, then took seats with a pint each.

Charles, however, had hoped to give Marie some rest. Of course, no such rest was had as the barman told them the only room available was shared with only one bed remaining.

He chewed on his lower lip. He wouldn’t allow Marie to be alone in a shared room with who-knew-what sort of men—nor would he wish her to sleep upright all night with drunken men down here. So what was he to do?

His nerves were settled when she reached forward and placed a comforting hand on his arm, addressing the barman first. “We’ll take the bed, thank you.”

Charles’s gaze whipped toward her.

“We are married, Charles,” she whispered. “We shan’t cause a scandal if we share a bed.”

A scandal was the least of his concerns. Sharing a bed, however...