When he failed to react in any way other than to smile, Minerva raised the subject of her day’s activities. “I do not want to sit in the garden all morning,” she said. “I want you to explain what you said two nights ago, about being almost sure that the duke was my benefactor. You said it was a topic for another day. Well, here we are in another day.”

He looked out the window and checked the weather. “We will take the carriage ride now, not this afternoon. It will be easier to show you what I mean than only explain it with words.”

She finished her meal quickly. “I will fetch my bonnet and cape and return shortly.”

He made it to the door before she did. “I will get them. You sit here and do not go near the stairs.” He aimed for the stairway, hearing a long sigh behind him.

* * *

“I do like this carriage,” Minerva said. “I am very snug here.” Too snug. Not only was she encased in her cape, but Chase had tucked a carriage blanket all around her. He now sat across from her while they rode west.

“You are to tell me if the sway or jostling in any way—”

“Yes, yes, I promise. And the next time you are conked on the head you are to tell me if in any way riding in carriages, or on horses, or walking, or reading, or anything at all gives you discomfort.”

He did not like her repeated references to her unfair restrictions, and it now showed in his eyes. She only returned to the topic because she was sure that he was going to be a problem now, and attempt to issue edicts on her movements and decisions.

She could hardly conduct her inquiries if she had to answer to him about every move. She had no intention of explaining herself that way, to anyone. His concern and care touched her deeply, but she dared not allow either to turn her into a weakling.

She had been careless. She admitted that. Mrs. Jeffers had not been as forthcoming about her history with Mr. Marin as would have been wise. She could be excused for assuming this was a reconciliation that a man living in such a state would welcome. However, she knew that when she had seen him, in that first moment, she should have heeded her better sense which told her to retreat.

Had she been fully attentive to the matter at hand, she might have. A month ago, she most likely would have feigned finding the wrong door, or used some other excuse to turn and leave. Instead at least half of her mind had dwelled on Chase, and their affair, and on the way her heart weighed her love for him against the potential danger still hanging over her.