If she were a different woman, if this were a different place, if he were a different man . . . Harry cut short the whisper in his mind and drew back his hand. He stretched out next to Lady Georgina, careful not to touch her. He stared at the ceiling and drove out all thought, all feeling. Then he closed his eyes, even though he knew it would be a long while before he slept.

HER NOSE TICKLED. GEORGE SWIPED at it and felt fur. Beside her, something rustled and then was still. She turned her head. Green eyes met her own, irritatingly alert for so early in the day.

“Good morning.” Her words came out a frog’s croak. She cleared her throat.

“Good morning, my lady.” Mr. Pye’s voice was smooth and dark, like hot chocolate. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He rose. The robe he clutched slid off one shoulder, revealing tanned skin before he righted it. Walking silently, he slipped out the door.

George scrunched her nose. Did nothing faze the man?

It suddenly occurred to her what he must be doing outside. Her bladder sent up an alarm. Hastily she struggled upright and pulled on her rumpled, still-damp dress, catching as many of the fastenings as she could. She couldn’t reach all the hooks, and it must be gaping around her waist, but at least the garment wouldn’t fall off. George put on her cloak to hide her back and then followed Mr. Pye outside. Black clouds hovered in the sky, threatening rain. Harry Pye was nowhere in sight. Looking around, she chose a dilapidated shed behind which to relieve herself and tramped around it.

When she came back from the shed, Mr. Pye was standing in front of the cottage buttoning his coat. He had retied his queue, but his clothes were wrinkled and his hair not as neat as usual. Thinking about what she must look like herself, George felt an uncharitable smirk of amusement. Even Harry Pye couldn’t spend the night on the floor of a hut and not show the effects the next morning.

“When you are ready, my lady,” he said, “I suggest we return to the highway. The coachman may be waiting for us there.”

“Oh, I hope so.”

They retraced their steps of the night before. In light and downhill, George was surprised to find it not such a great distance. Soon they topped the last hill and could see the road. It was empty, save for the carriage wreckage, even more pitiful in the light of day.

She heaved a sigh. “Well. I guess we’ll just have to start walking, Mr. Pye.”

“Yes, my lady.”