The horses stepped high, the slap of leather and click of metal competing with the sound of horseshoes on the packed dirt road. It would get better, it had to. Even if it was now a raw ache that threatened to drive him to tears. He could not cry, surely not in the presence of his valet and the groom riding the box. Maybe later. He was wont to measure the situation, check the nuance a million times, but that would not make for a consolation. It wouldn't rid him of the cutting pain that their parting had been. He had known her barely a seenight and she ruled his thoughts completely. Robert turned his black gaze from glaring at the confines of his box to gazing outside to the passing scenery.

Even that proved to remind him of her large estate, the spring season was turning the country a pale green. The streets were simple but clean, a sure sign that Lord Rochester and the landed gentry took care of their neighbors.

The occasional cart, a curricle and the frequent riders on horseback passed them on the road. They duly moved aside for the crested carriage. People in the streets paused their chores to watch the grand coach and the outriders pass by.  The sun shone around a cloud and the dour morning was suddenly illuminated. With it a smell of lemons suddenly flitted past his nose and he paused. Another deep breath confirmed the scent was gone. The longing it evoked woke in him with a vengeance he had managed to ignore. She would haunt him for life. If he was to live the rest of his days away from her, he would have her know the truth.

Mayhap she might reconcile herself to their union in time. Women were known to need a period of adjustment. But for the sake of their union, their friendship—though dim now—and all the love he bore her in his heart, he couldn’t continue on without a word of truth. He made a split-second decision. "Turn around." The growl filled the small confines of the carriage.

"Your Grace?" His harsh command started his valet. The poor man jumped out of his skin and looked at his lordship with fear.

Robert was not in the mood to be kindly. The ache in his chest demanded relief. "Have this coach turned around this instant," he ordered again. His voice was less gravelly.

"Ah..." His valet continued to blink, his mouth opening and closing without a sound and looked at him as if he was a man possessed.

"Do not continue your stuttering, my good man, and have the groom turn the horses around," he ground out with a pointed look.

Giles recovered quickly. "But if course, Your Grace. But where are we going?"

He informed the man with a certain kind of gravity in his voice. "We are returning to Mossford." And truthfully the matter was beyond grave.

The valet nodded, a bit of his lip color returning as he knocked at the box seat. The carriage stalled and he opened the door and had a word with the groom. That done he returned to his seat. The groom drove his horse neatly around and made back for where they had started.

"Your Grace..." he started after moments of careful deliberation.

"What is it, Giles?" His voice was easier now. He knew he had done the right thing.

"If I may be so bold to ask, what is the nature of the business driving you back to the estate? You set out for London in quite a haste." It was a bold question, but Robert was not feeling particularly formal at the moment.

He answered with a cool manner. "I have forgotten a rather important thing."

"And this thing is..."

"My wife."