“Why did you say it?” I swallowed. “To hurt me?”

“No. What I said was the truth. I did go there and it did disappoint me—because you were not there. But only when I saw your reaction did I realize how you’d perceived my words. Then it was too late.” He glanced over, his eyes softening. “I resigned myself to waiting thirty years to clear the air.”

“You’re teasing me, Asa. But I can’t laugh.”

He smiled. “It was a rather wicked comeback. I quite respected it.”

For reasons I didn’t understand, that did make me laugh. Then I didn’t know what else to say. I had too much to absorb. Too many feelings. We walked the rest of the way in silence.

At the groundskeeper’s cottage, we discovered our party in a state of commotion. The sleighs were gone. All the carriages were lined up out front. The second leg of the race was called off, due to the threatening weather. Dinner at the Winterses’ country home as well. Everyone would hurry back to the city before Bowery Road became impassable.

“Mr. Stone will come with us so that your uncle can tend to his injury,” Aunt Nora said. “We will take him directly to the Stones. Lucy will go with Charlotte. The judge will see you home.”

There was no time for discussion. Before I knew it, Asa was handing me into the Latimer carriage. Inside, Judge Latimer sat in the middle of the anterior seat, breathing heavily and tugging at his neck stock in obvious discomfort. I took the facing bench and moved to the end. Asa climbed in and settled beside me. The judge rapped on the roof to signal the driver and we sped off, racing against nature now.

Sitting still, I couldn’t ignore the cold anymore. Shivers racked me and my teeth chattered. I couldn’t help either.

“Poor Miss Coates.” Judge Latimer frowned in concern. “What if you become ill?”

“I won’t, Judge. I will be fine.”

“But what if we get lost?” he said, looking through the fogged glass. “Who can see more than three feet in this weather?”

“We won’t get lost, Uncle,” Asa assured.

“But we might drive off the road and break a wheel.”

“We won’t, Uncle. But if we do, we’ll unhitch the horses and ride back.”

“What if one goes lame? What if both do?” As his panic increased, a red flush crept over his cheeks. “We could be kidnapped by Tory hunters this far outside of town. There are madmen out here. Mon dieu. Forgive me, Miss Coates. Asa, the laudanum. In the basket under the bench.”

Asa was already getting it. He rummaged inside a wood box. In the unsteady light, I watched him remove a small vial like the ones Malcolm prepared in the workshop. He poured a dram and gave it to his uncle, who took it in one tilt.

“Thank you,” the judge said, gasping. “Thank you.”

“Here.” Asa removed his cloak, laying it over his uncle’s shoulders. “Lean your head and sleep.”