9
The next morning, Lance opened the door to the coach for Theodora’s inspection.
She sighed happily when she saw the thickly padded seats, the heavy lap rugs, and the shiny gleam of brand-new foot warmers. She reached inside and rubbed her hand over the plush, soft velvet. “I’ve never seen such a luxurious coach.”
Lance said in a wistful tone, “It’s much better than my previous effort, isn’t it?”
“Very much so.” She caught the regret in his eyes and added quickly, “Not that the other carriage didn’t have its charm, too. It was far more historical.”
He chuckled. “That’s kind of you, but the seats were deuced uncomfortable. Stuffed with horse hair, I’ve no doubt, which over time can pack down until a rock feels comfortable by comparison.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
He sent her a rueful look. “It was, and you know it.”
She laughed and stepped back so Lance could close the door. She tugged her gloves back on. “I wish we could have left yesterday.”
He nodded in agreement. “So do I, but the horses are magnificent and we dared not overtire them. Luxury often carries certain responsibilities.”
“At least we’ll be on our way today.” And leave Conner behind. After spending several hours last night watching him charm Lance into a sense of camaraderie that she was certain was false, she’d expected to be more than ready to leave Conner in her wake. Instead, she felt anxious and unsure.
Stop it! That’s exactly what Conner wants, and I will not give him the satisfaction. She lifted her chin, pasted on a smile, and asked, “When do we leave?”
“I’m to fetch Miss Simmons soon. Once I bring her here, the servants will load our luggage and we’ll be off.”
Theodora nodded, wishing they didn’t have to wait for the chaperone. But there was nothing to be done for it; Lance was decided. And, even though it had been Conner’s idea originally, perhaps Lance had a point. This was no longer a simple overnight elopement, but a journey of several days.
The inn door swung open on its creaky hinges and Conner stepped out, the wind ruffling his hair as he approached. He examined her in that deucedly uncomfortable way he had, his hot gaze lingering on her hair, her mouth, and then moving to the lace at her bosom. Instinctively, she tugged her pelisse closed and buttoned it to her neck.
But that didn’t stop the slow, steady flush that traveled across her, prickling the skin on her neck. She bit her lip in an effort to stop the sensations, wishing he’d stop looking at her like that. But it wasn’t in his nature to hide his desires. She wondered if that boldness had come from spending so much time at sea, unfettered by society and as free as the wind to go where he wished.
“Your equipage is beyond compare.” Lance, still looking at the coach, nodded his approval.
“So it is.” Conner’s gaze never left Theodora, and his eyes glinted with humor.
She frowned at him. “Your coach is beyond compare.”
Lance gave a surprised laugh. “Theodora, I just said that.”
“So you did.” Conner grinned and turned to the squire. “I trust you find it sufficient to carry you on your journey.”
“I cannot imagine a more well-equipped coach. I’m tempted to take a nap in it right now.”
“Feel free. When one is used to being at sea, travel on land seems unnecessarily harsh, so I spend a wee bit extra on my conveyances. The true genius in the design is the suspension.”
“I look forward to testing it. I’m off to fetch the chaperone soon, and will return with a report.”
“I await your verdict.” Conner slid his gaze back to Theodora with a smile. “You must be well pleased. Soon you will feel a maiden of fifteen again, shadowed by a chaperone, your virtue protected by hawkish eyes.”
Truth be told, Conner’s hot stare already made her feel like an uncertain miss. She ignored his words and said in a bland tone, “Thank you for offering your coach. I wish we could leave this instant.”
“Eager to be wed, are you?”
“I am!” Lance took Theodora’s hand and pressed a fervent kiss to her fingers. “I’d fly if I could.”
Conner’s faint smile disappeared and his lashes dropped to obscure his expression. “You are valiant, Squire.”
Valiant—as if it took bravery to fall in love with her? She sniffed her disapproval as she reclaimed her hand from Lance.
Conner’s gaze met hers. “And you, Thea. Are you ready?”
Ready. Such a simple word, and yet it meant so many things. The word hit her like a wall collapsing upon her head. Was she ready? She found herself looking at Lance, who blandly smiled, unaware of her turbulent thoughts. She couldn’t ask for a kinder husband . . . but was that enough? What was enough?
While Lance seemed unaware her thoughts were in turmoil, Conner’s brows had lowered, a question in his eyes. “Thea?”
She collected herself. “Of course I’m ready. Spencer ironed my last gown this morning. He’s been performing miracles.”
“Spencer?” Lance asked.
“My footman and bos’n’s mate,” Conner said. “Yesterday, I sent him to assist Thea with her wardrobe.”
Lance looked surprised.
“He’s extremely talented,” Theodora assured him. “My gowns have never looked so well.”
“Then that’s another note of thanks we owe you, Douglas. That was quite kind of you.”
Conner shrugged. “It was nothing.”
But in a way, it was. Conner evaluated everything with a pragmatic eye for comfort, ease, and convenience. Things that she and he both considered important—like the quality of a coach’s suspension or the seats, or whether one had proper clothing to wear and if it was warm or dry enough—Lance never gave a thought to. She was beginning to realize that even though he was quite well off and enjoyed all the advantages of that, life was only about expedience for him, while quality and comfort were much less so. Today Lance would enjoy riding in Conner’s luxurious coach, but sometime during the course of their travels, the squire would also decide that such luxury was unnecessary and frivolous.
Lance turned to her now. “I must fetch Miss Simmons, but I will return soon.”
Theodora murmured her agreement, and he climbed into the coach and tapped the ceiling to alert the coachman. The restless grays began to move, and the coach rolled smoothly out of the inn yard.
As soon as the coach was out of sight, Conner faced her, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Alone at last.” He stepped toward her.
She threw up a hand. “Stop right there.”
A challenge warmed his smile yet more. “What’s the matter, Thea? Afraid?”
“Of you? Never.” Always. As she spoke, the inn door opened and, to her intense relief, Spencer appeared.
“Dammit,” Conner muttered. “Am I to never have a moment alone with you?”
She sincerely hoped not.
Spencer joined them. “There you are, miss! I oversaw the proper packing of your portmanteau and small trunk, so everything is ready.”
“Thank you; I don’t know how I’ll get on without you. I don’t suppose I could hire you away from the good captain?”
Conner snorted. “Belay, lass! You’re nae trying to steal my men right in front of me, are you?”
She looked at him with raised brows and he gave a sheepish grin. “I suppose I’ve been guilty of worse than stealing a servant, havenae I? But all’s fair in love and war.” The twinkle remained in his eyes and it both unsettled her and drew her closer.
She was glad when he turned to Spencer. “Do nae let this woman convince you to abandon your post. She’s a siren, she is, and will make you do things you’ll regret.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n!” The footman grinned. “And, miss, as I’m traveling with the coach, I’ll still be available to assist you during your trip.”
“You’re going with us?”
“Aye, miss. The Cap’n thought it best if you and the squire had the benefits on your journey of what servants are available.”
“Meanwhile, I’m left withoot.” Conner sighed as if plagued by the thought, although she knew better. “By the by, Spencer, did you find time to pack my bags, or am I to do it myself?”
“I packed your things early this morning, sir.”
“Excellent. I’ll save the cat o’ nine tails for another day, then.”
The footman chuckled. “I will fetch the bags.” He bowed, and then left.
Theodora watched him as he disappeared back into the inn. “Spencer’s a good man.”
“Verrah. Sometimes I think he believes me a bit of a loose cannon.”
“You are a loose cannon.”
“Only with you, love.”
Her cheeks heated. He tossed out the word “love” as if it meant nothing, and although she knew better, she couldn’t stop a tiny trill of happiness from racing through her. She hated that, even as she was unable to stop it.
Well, if she couldn’t stop her reactions, she could at least put some space between them. “I just remembered that I left my reticule in the parlor. I must fetch it.” She headed for the door.
To her chagrin, Conner fell in beside her.
Protesting would reveal her weakness, so instead, she asked in what she hoped was a casual tone, “Where will you go once we leave?”
He opened the door and stood to one side. “I’ve an inheritance to win, remember? So I must marry.”
She stepped inside the hallway and walked toward the parlor. “Do you have someone in mind yet?”
Conner followed her inside. “Aye.”
Theodora continued to the parlor even as her heart gave a sick thud. “Already? That was quick.”
He shrugged. “You ordered me to find another.”
She had, hadn’t she? She just wished he hadn’t told her about it. In less than an hour, he’d be off to make this woman, whoever she was, his wife. Theodora decided that the less she knew, the better. But as if her brain and head were no longer connected, she heard herself ask, “She is beautiful, I suppose.”
“Of course.”
“And well bred?”
“Naturally. And one of the most intelligent women I know,” Conner added, watching Thea’s ever-changing expressions.
Her brows drew together, and she looked less than pleased. He hid his smile. He’d been thinking of Thea when he’d described his phantom intended, and it was gratifying to detect a bit of jealousy in her gaze.
Hmm, perhaps I should pursue this. Sometimes we don’t appreciate what we might have until the choice is gone. It’s true of how I feel about her. Would she feel the same about me if I were no longer available? He made his way to the fireplace, his gaze never leaving her. “Soon, we will both be wed.”
Thea picked up her reticule from a table beside the fireplace. “Do I know her?”
“Oh yes. Very well.”
“What’s her name?”
“Och, I’m nae one to flash a lady’s name aboot until I’ve a reason. If—when she agrees to wed me, I’ll introduce you.”
Thea didn’t look pleased with that announcement. “I’m sure that would be lovely.”
“Aye. I’ll be off to make her mine as soon as you and the squire leave.”
“I—I hope you’ve thought this through.”
“I’ve given my coming marriage as much thought as you have yours.”
She flushed, and said in a brittle tone, “Our cases are not the same.”
“They are exactly the same. We decided we needed to marry, and whilst our reasons might be different, our methods were equally quick. Besides, I’m only doing as you asked, although it goes sorely against my principles.”
“Your principles allow you to seduce a woman already engaged to another man. I hardly feel they will suffer should you decide to become a respectable husband and a more worthy member of society.”
“Lass, you know how to put the worst light on things when it comes to me.”
“I know you, and you never do anything unless it benefits you.”
Conner’s smile slipped. “I dinnae deserve that.”
Her eyes blazed, and he thought she would argue. Then her shoulders slumped and she grimaced. “I’m sorry—I’m just in a quarrelsome mood this morning. You’ve been everything kind. You gave up your coach, and sent Spencer to assist with my wardrobe, as well as offering up your other servants. You’ve been kind. I’m just . . .” She shook her head. “I’m suspicious. You’re not one to give up on something, and this seems like a sudden reversal.”
“I’m nae happy with your decision, as you know. I still think you would be the best wife I could wish for. But you’ve said nae, so there’s nae much I can do aboot it, is there?”
“No.”
There was uncertainty in her brown eyes, and more than a little worry. Which that fool of a squire didn’t even notice. The man is blind. Frowning, Conner captured her hand and held it between his own. “What’s wrong, lass? You dinnae look happy.”
She flushed and pulled her hand free. “I’m fine.”
“Come. We’ve never held back from one another. Why would we start now?”
“Because things are different now.”
The words sliced him and he found himself blustering. “Nonsense. Things are nae a bit different and—”
“They are,” she said sharply. “And you know it.”
The finality of her words sent him reeling and he felt off balance, as if he were trying to keep his footing on a storm-wet deck, but he couldn’t refute the truth she’d spoken. Bloody hell, things have changed between us, and they will keep changing. God, he hated that.
Her lashes lowered and she looked at her clasped hands, her expression hidden. “Sadly, the time for us to share secrets is long gone.”
“But, Thea, who else can you talk to, if nae me? There’s nae one else here.”
That seemed to catch her, for she paused, her gaze searching his face. Finally, she shook her head. “No. It’s not wise.”
“Perhaps nae, but ’tis all you have.” He softened his voice. “Come. Tell me what’s wrong.”
She bit her lip. “You’ll keep this in confidence?”
“Always.” He would never betray her—not if he were flogged and keelhauled within an inch of his life. The strength of his feelings surprised him, though they shouldn’t—as she’d pointed out, they’d known one another for a long time.
“I . . . this whole thing is . . .” Emotion caught her, and she took a deep breath before she whispered, “I wonder if I know what I’m doing.”
Conner fought the urge to sweep her into his arms, though it cost him sorely. She was like a fawn in the woods, and he knew better than to move too quickly or risk startling her and sending her fleeing. He had to proceed carefully, or the moment—and she—would be gone. Perhaps forever.
The thought burned like acid and he had to clear his throat before he said in a careful tone, “How so?”
She clutched her reticule tighter, as if afraid it might disappear. “This elopement, Lance—all of it! I was certain I knew what I was doing, that this was what I wanted, but . . .”
“Now you’re nae certain?”
“I suppose everyone has such moments before they wed. And Lance is a stalwart, trustworthy man—and more. He cares for me, or seems to, and that’s a good beginning. But then things went wrong with this journey—the carriage, the accident, and then you showed up . . . and now I wonder if I should be here at all?”
Hope warmed Conner. “So my coming here made things worse?”
“Of course, because I—” Her gaze locked with his as the words froze on her tongue.
“Because why?”
She shook her head, her thick lashes lowering to obscure her gaze.
She’s not telling me something. “Come, Thea. How did my arrival make things worse? Is it because we kissed?”
A deep flush rose to her cheeks, but she turned her gaze to her reticule, nervously sliding her fingers through the fringe. “The kiss wasn’t— I’m not— You don’t need—” She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.”
He moved closer and placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face to his. “Tell me, Thea. Please. Why did my coming here make things worse?”
She met his gaze, and something flickered in her eyes. She looked— What? Before he could fathom it, she mumbled, “No. No,” shifting as if to move away.
He couldn’t let her go. If he did, she’d leave, and this delicate moment would disappear like foam upon restless waves. Without another thought, Conner bent and captured her lips with his.
For a long second, neither moved. A jolt of heat sizzled through Conner as he savored Thea’s warm, soft lips. He kissed her again with more urgency, slipping his hand about her waist.
She shivered once, and then melted against him, her reticule dropping to the floor as she slid one arm around his neck and grasped his lapel with the other.
He deepened the kiss, teasing her lips over and over until, with a moan, she parted them. Her sweetness tormented his senses, awakening every fiber of his being. He plundered her mouth, tasting her, his body afire with each new discovery.
Why had he never thought to kiss her in all the years they’d known one another? So many wasted, wasted years. Her kisses were tantalizingly delicious and now she was kissing him back, her tongue brushing his, rousing a passion so blindingly hot that he could only react. She took every act of his and reflected it back, with a thousand times more passion and sensuality.
With her hand pressed to his chest, she had to be aware of his thundering heart. Surprised at the strength of his own reaction, he pulled her closer, and kissed her with every iota of his being.
To his delight she pressed back, her body molding to his, her mouth opening greedily, her tongue touching his—
She broke the kiss with a gasp. Flushed, her lips damp from their kisses, breathing hard as if she’d been running, she backed away, shaking her head. “No! This is wrong! I swore I’d never do this again and I—I can’t. I just can’t.”
“Thea—” He stepped toward her, determined to get her back in his arms.
“Stay where you are.”
He did as she asked, although it went against every instinct he had. “Thea, please. That was—”
“A mistake.” Her voice shook, as did her hand as she brushed her fingers over her lips, a stricken look in her eyes.
Her reaction cooled his passion instantly. “Lass, please. I dinnae mean to oopset you. ’Twas just a kiss—”
She stiffened. “Just a kiss?”
“Aye. And a damned guid one, too.” His body was still afire, his brain muddled by the kisses, the softness of her lips, the look he thought he’d seen in her eyes— God, what had just happened? “Your kisses are as beguiling as the sea, unlike any I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a guidly bit of experience.”
He regretted the words as soon as he said them.
Displeasure flashed through her eyes. “Oh! So not only was it just a kiss, but now you’re bragging that you’ve kissed so many other women.”
Good God, had he said that? She had him so muddled! “That’s nae what I meant.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it? You’ve kissed dozens, perhaps hundreds of women. Haven’t you?”
How did he answer that? If he said nae she wouldn’t believe him (and with reason), and if he agreed, he looked a loose-moraled fool. Best to proceed cautiously. He spread his hands wide. “I’ve kissed my fair share, but—”
“Your fair share.” She looked disgusted with herself. “What was I thinking? I’m a fool.”
“You’re nae such thing, and you know it. Lass, you’re making much oot of nothing. What’s important is what just happened; we’ve fire between us. Admit it.”
She straightened her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter; I’m engaged. I made a commitment. That may not mean anything to you, but it does to me and I cannot—will not—allow this to happen again.”
“You said you were having second thoughts,” he hurried to point out.
Her face pinkened yet more. “I was a fool to admit that to you. But it’s only normal, I’m sure. And that—that kiss just confirmed it. Lance is the right man for me.”
“Bloody hell!” Conner raked a hand through his hair. “Thea, that kiss dinnae prove a damn thing aboot you and Lance. ’Twas aboot you and me. And you have to admit ’twas worthwhile. To be honest, I dinnae expect you to be so guid, nae after the last time—” Her expression froze his tongue in place, and he could have kicked himself. Guid lord, that kiss has turned me into a bloody pumpkin.
He threw up a hand before she could speak. “I worded that poorly. I just meant the first kiss—while excellent—was nae as guid as these last ones. You were a bit new then, but you’re a quick learner and—” He winced at the fury he saw in her eyes. “Och, I’m making a mess of this.” He shook his head helplessly. “You set me afire, lass. I dinnae expect that.”
“You should stop talking.”
He nodded, unable to disagree. Yet he couldn’t stop looking at her with a new awareness. Had her brown eyes always been so thickly lashed? Her mouth so beguiling? Her hair so silky soft that he longed to unpin it and sink his fingers in those golden brown strands?
Her eyes flashed as if she’d like to strike him, yet all he could think about was how delectable she looked. “I vow, it’s as if I never knew you,” he said softly.
She sent him a flatly irritated look. “You knew me; you just didn’t pay attention. I was like a—a piece of furniture. You never really looked at me, did you?”
“I paid attention to you,” he protested, a little surprised by her vehemence.
“Really?”
How could any man answer such a disbelieving look? “Aye. And I’ve always been there when I knew you needed it. Did I nae come to you in Italy when your mother was so ill that you and Derrick thought her as good as gone? And what aboot the time Sergeant Tibbs died? As soon as Derrick told me what happened, I traveled three hours in the rain to come and help.”
A flicker of sadness crossed her face. “He was the best cat ever.”
“He was. And it was an honor to be the one to bury him for you.”
“Under the yew tree in the garden.” A sad smile softened her expression. “You gave a lovely eulogy.”
“He deserved one. He was a guid cat, even if he did bite.”
Her lips quirked. “He never liked you.”
“I liked him in spite of that,” Conner admitted grudgingly. “I’ve never seen a cat fetch before or since.”
She started to reply, but caught herself and instead turned away, her shoulders sagging as she dropped her face into her hands. “Oh, Conner, what are you doing?”
“I think you know.”
“I do know. And it’s wrong.” She dropped her hands to her sides, facing him with grim clarity. “You must leave. Go, find this woman you were telling me about, and settle your inheritance.”
“And you?”
“I’ll marry Lance. It’s what I’m meant to do. I’m certain of it now.”
Dammit, how had they gotten to this? He’d thought she had changed her mind, but now she seemed firmer than ever in her resolution to marry the squire. “You have doubts about Lance.”
“I did, but no more. I will not hurt him.” She crossed her arms, almost hugging herself, her eyes soft with regret. “If only you hadn’t come. Having you here is—difficult.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But I wish you hadn’t found me. Lance is my future. I must embrace that fact.”
“Your future? Then what am I?”
“The past.”
The words struck him like a ship’s bow, ramming straight through his heart. He looked at her mouth, still damp from his kiss, and he firmed his jaw. “Present or past, I’m here now. And it would be wrong if we dinnae discover why we react so strongly to one another.”
“I will not hurt Lance. I cannot.”
Dammit, she was so bloody stubborn. And if he kept pressing, it would only set her more firmly in her decision.
Gritting his teeth, he threw up his hands. “Fine! If you’ll nae have me, then I’d best return to thinking of someone else.”
Her gaze narrowed suspiciously. “Was there someone else? Or did you just say that to get me to lower my guard?”
“Lass, as beautiful as you are, if you say nae, then nae it is.” He rubbed his neck, thinking quickly. “If you’ll nae have me, then I’ll go north to . . .” Bloody hell, who lived in the north? He only knew a few families in that direction with marriageable daughters and— Ah. “Wentlow Manor.”
She blinked. “Wentlow? The Lambert family?”
The Lamberts were friends of the Cumberbatch-Snowes, and during some of Conner’s visits he’d met the family—a son Derrick’s age and four daughters, all a bit younger than Thea, and quite pretty in a vapid sort of way. At the time Conner had thought them just a pack of gigglers, but they were well born, and not unpleasing. It was the best he could do, considering the circumstances. “Aye,” he repeated grimly, “the Lamberts.”
“I see.” She pressed a hand to her stomach as if to still a sudden roil. “Which daughter will you court?”
“Whichever will have me.”
Thea gaped at him. “You don’t have a favorite?”
He thought about it. “I suppose the tall one would be a guid choice. She dinnae talk as much as the others.”
“That’s— I can’t even— Conner, that makes no sense. You’d pick a wife based on her lack of conversation?”
“Why nae? If I cannae have you, I dinnae care who I wind oop with. But I dinnae wish to listen to idle chatter all day, so a woman who’ll nae talk would be best.”
“Conner, no! You don’t know the Lamberts, any of them, not really.”
“You are marrying someone you barely know.”
She flushed. “I know Lance better than you know Letitia.” She rubbed her temples as if they ached. “I cannot believe this. You’re going to offer for Letty?”
“Why nae? She always flirted with me—they all did.”
“The Lamberts are known for that.”
“So she’ll be guid at it, if she’s been practicing. And as her family is in need of financial assistance, they’ll welcome my suit.” Eagerly, which is why Conner had vowed to never cross the threshold of Wentlow Manor without a guard.
But all Thea needed to know was that he had his sights set elsewhere, which should assuage some of her fears. “I’m sure this Letty and I will make a decent marriage, if nae the best. She seemed very biddable, which is guid, too.”
Theodora felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach, removing the last lingering bit of passion that had roared through her at Conner’s kisses. “I’m surprised you’ve singled out Letty. She may not chatter like her sisters, but you said the hair on her chin was unacceptable.”
Conner frowned. “I dinnae remember any of them had hair on their chins.”
“Letty did,” Theodora said firmly, wondering if she should feel remorse for telling lies about people she barely knew.
He shrugged. “Then I will go for another one. The buxom one, what was her name?”
“Lenora.”
“I’ll court her, then.”
“You used to call Lenora ‘Loud Lenora,’ I remember that, for I begged you not to do so within her hearing.”
“Och, so I did. She talked as if her words were afire and she was trying to outrun them. That will nae do.” He grimaced and rubbed his neck. “Och, this is a pain. What aboot the short one?”
“That’s Lydia.”
“Lydia, then.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’d best remember her name, or I’ll end oop with the wrong one and find myself shackled to a chatterbox or worse.” His gaze dropped to Thea’s mouth. “I wonder how Lydia will kiss? Nae matter. If she does nae do it weel, then I’ll teach her.”
A hot flash of jealousy sucked Theodora’s breath away. The strength of it shocked her, making her wonder how she’d ever thought she could easily purge him from her life. She should have been relieved that he was setting his sights elsewhere, but all she could muster was a brittle, “I hope you’ll be happy.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I will have kept the Douglas fortune from the Campbells. That will have to be satisfaction enough.”
“Yes, but—” The sound of the coach rattling into the inn yard made her glance at the window. “There’s Lance.” She and Conner were out of time. She wished miserably that she knew what to say to turn him from his disastrous path, but she had no words. Nothing but a nauseous certainty that he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.
Conner’s gaze swept over her with obvious regret. “That’s it, then. Good luck, Thea. I wish you the best.”
She struggled to find words, but none would come. After an awkward moment, Conner bowed and—with a final lingering look—left, his steady footsteps fading as he walked down the hall and went outside.
Theodora went to the window and watched as Conner greeted Lance and the new chaperone, a small woman so enveloped in an overly large pelisse and bonnet that it was impossible to make out her features.
Theodora’s mind raced, her heart sick. What a coil! She’d expected to be happy and excited about her elopement, but all she could think about was Conner’s error in marrying one of the Lambert chits. And added were those tempting, forbidden kisses. Why didn’t she feel that same passion with Lance?
But I haven’t kissed him. Perhaps that is why. Whatever the problem was, she had to figure it out soon, or there would be no turning back.
Sighing heavily, she picked up her reticule from where she’d dropped it on the floor and made her way to the inn yard.