After another half hour of fruitless meditation, the stagecoach jerked to a sudden stop and tilted on its axis. Selena lurched forward, banging her head on the opposite seat with a force that brought tears to her eyes. With her luck, that would leave another mark, and one more visible. There was a bustle and shout as the driver, along with the lone passenger seated on top of the stagecoach—who had tried to coax his way inside without success since he had not paid the additional fare—climbed down to inspect the damage. Selena lifted the heavy leather curtain and watched the activity from her window.

“Right stuck we are,” the driver said with a scowl. He batted the snow off his hat and shoved it back on his head.

“‘Tis no surprise with thee tooling the coach in that neck-or-nothing way.” The passenger shook his head in disgust.

The driver stuck his chin forward. “What’d you say?”

Selena bit her lip. The two had been exchanging sharp words since the roof passenger was taken up several hours earlier, and the bickering added to her sense of isolation. A thought occurred to her, born out of desperation. Perhaps she was close enough to her destination to walk, since the next stop was hers. Their voices kept rising in pitch, and before the men broke into an outright brawl, Selena picked up her portmanteau and pushed open the door. If courage could not spring up on its own, she must conjure it.

“Miss, no need for you to be leaving the carriage.” The driver paused in his altercation, treating her to the dismissive tone he had used with her since he had recognized her low station. “We’ll be on our way again in two shakes.”

“Whot’s this you’re jawing on about?” The passenger balled his hands and placed them squarely on his hips. “This carriage ain’t going nowhere. We’ll need a job horse to pull us out—and several men asides.”

The driver puffed up his chest like a prize cock about to fight. “Tain’t you the driver of this vehicle.”

“Excuse me,” Selena interrupted. She would not be deterred by the driver’s high-handed manner. What did he know of her station anyway? “Do either of you know where we are?”

Serving her with an impatient glance, the driver gave a curt answer. “Just entered Woolmer Green.” Turning back to the passenger, he added, “And this is a broad stretch of flat road—”

Woolmer Green meant nothing to her. “How close are we to Harrowden Estate?”

“Harrowden?” With deliberate disdain, the driver pulled his gaze from the passenger and rubbed his chin. “It’s nigh four miles from here, I reckon.”

Selena's determination began to waver and she huddled in her cloak, taking refuge from the flurry of snowflakes. “Then it will not be possible to walk from here.” She looked at the coachman. “What are your plans, sir? Do you truly think we shall become unstuck?” She pleaded silently with her eyes. No blustering. I need the truth.