“I’d kiss you again,” he said, sounding very droll and perhaps a bit queasy at the same time, “except that I’m quite certain you would not appreciate it.”

While she was trying to formulate a reply to that, he added, “The next kiss—”

(Brief moment of silence, followed by a grunt, both brought on by another rut.)

He cleared his throat. “The next kiss, you will appreciate. That, Amelia, is a vow.”

She was quite sure he was right, because the statement alone made her shiver.

Hugging her arms to her chest, she peered out the window. She’d noticed they were slowing down, and indeed, the carriage had wound into the small courtyard in front of the posting inn. The Happy Hare dated from Tudor times, and its black and white exterior was well-kept and inviting, each window adorned with a flower box, blooming all shades of red and gold. From the jettied upper story hung a rectangular sign featuring a toothsome rabbit, standing upright in his Elizabethan doublet and ruff.

Amelia found it all rather charming and intended to comment, but Thomas was already making for the door.

“Shouldn’t you wait for the carriage to come to a complete stop?” she asked mildly.

His hand went still upon the door handle, and he did not say a word until they had halted completely. “I’ll be but a moment,” he said, barely looking at her.

“I believe I will accompany you,” she replied.

He froze, then his head turned slowly toward her. “Wouldn’t you prefer to remain in the comfort of the carriage?”

If he had been trying to douse her curiosity, he was going about it the wrong way.

“I would like to stretch my legs,” she said, affixing her favorite bland smile onto her face. She’d used it with him a hundred times at least, but not since they had got to know each other a bit. She was no longer sure how well it would work.

He stared at her for a long moment, clearly baffled by her placid demeanor.

Like a charm, she decided. She blinked a couple of times—nothing too coy or obvious, just a couple of flutters in a row, as if she were patiently waiting for him to respond.

“Very well,” he said, sounding resigned in a way she did not think she’d ever heard in his voice before. He always got everything he wanted. Why would he ever feel resigned?

He stepped down with far less bounce than his usual hop, then held up a hand to assist her. She took it gracefully and stepped down herself, pausing to smooth her skirts and take stock of the inn.