Guy had been sleeping poorly these past few months. He’d been quiet, working too hard, Owen had told her, barely looking up from his worktable until day’s end. Though as the weeks went on, he laughed more, ate better. One evening he and Catherine had taken a walk in Fernhill Park, and he’d told her he’d never been out of the city.

Catherine had received letters from her family all through the winter months. She’d set her mind on taking a stagecoach to visit home, saving up her coins at the print shop for the journey. She’d asked Guy if he’d like to accompany her, and he’d readily agreed.

Now she smiled upon seeing his packed trunk at the foot of the coatrack. “Yes, I believe so,” she replied.

Guy put on his coat and gloves and fetched his hat.

Owen appeared in the doorway of the back room, wearing a dark apron over his clothes. He said, “Good morning, Catherine.”

“Good morning.”

Turning to him, Guy said, “Now, Owen, remember Mr. Everley will be coming by to make sure you’re all right. You have the Dalys’ address, so you must write if anything’s the matter or if anything goes wrong—”

Owen’s mouth quirked up. “I’ll be perfectly fine. You needn’t worry.” He looked to Catherine. “You know I’ll be all right, don’t you, Catherine?”

She nodded. “Certainly you will.”

“Well, yes,” said Guy, jamming on his hat. “Yes, of course, but—”

“You’re going to miss the coach, I think,” Owen cut in. His eyes shifted to the clocks on the wall, and they gleamed even in the pale-gray morning light, ticking in unison. “You’d better hurry.”

Guy picked up his trunk. He looked about the shop as though seeing it anew, before settling his gaze on Catherine. “Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes.” She stepped back toward the door, glancing to Owen. “Take care, Owen.”

“Take care,” he echoed. “I hope you have a wonderful time.”

Guy called, “Goodbye, Owen,” and followed Catherine as she stepped outside.

The stagecoach left from a tavern near Elgin Square. It would take them out of the city, stop at a coaching inn for the night, and carry on through the country to the town where Catherine’s family lived. They walked quickly through the streets to meet it.

Around the corner, the coach waited at the sidewalk’s edge. It was painted yellow, a cheerful contrast to the overcast sky, and drawn by a team of four horses. Passengers were already crowding on, and Guy helped Catherine up into the carriage. Sitting beside each other in the dim, close space, they clasped hands atop the seat.

Guy murmured, “Thank you for inviting me along.”

She looked at him. He smiled a soft smile, his dark eyes warm and lovely. She squeezed his hand lightly and said, “Thank you for accompanying me.”

“Will your family like me, do you think?”

“Well,” said Catherine, grinning, “I’m rather fond of you, so I imagine so.”

The carriage door swung shut, the coachman disappearing to take a seat at the driver’s box. Guy grinned back. “Are you ready?”