They were long past that now.

When they arrived in York, he gentled her awake just long enough to change trains. She was still pale and weak. He expected it would take several days for her to regain her pallor after her ordeal. In the meanwhile, she was content to lean on him and he was glad, quite shamelessly glad, to assist her in dozens of little ways—tying the ribbons of her bonnet beneath her chin, holding her hand, and encircling her waist as he guided her to their new compartment.

It was nightfall by the time they reached Malton, far too late to continue any further. Hardholme had no platform halt. The remainder of their journey would have to be made by coach—a long and arduous drive at the best of times. One best not attempted after sunset, especially when there was no full moon to light the way.

Foul weather greeted them at the station, cloudless blue skies replaced by darkness and driving rain.

Jasper found them a carriage at the cabstand. “We’ll put up for the night,” he said as he helped Julia into it. “Somewhere close.”

“We needn’t stop,” she said. “I’m strong enough to go on.”

“I’m not.” He climbed in after her, shutting the door behind him. He thumped on the roof to give the coachman the office to start. “The road to Hardholme can be treacherous. Better to start fresh in the morning.”

“Will we stay at a hotel?”

“Nothing so luxurious as that. There’s a coaching inn outside of town, just along the highway. I’ve stayed there once before. It’s clean and they serve a decent meal.”

It was a minor economy, but a necessary one. He’d already spent more than he should on their rail tickets. He didn’t regret the decision. Traveling first-class had enabled Julia to rest in the comfort and privacy of their own compartment. But going forward, he’d have to tighten the purse strings.

He hoped she wasn’t too disappointed. If she was, he couldn’t tell. The interior of the carriage was dark and there was no lamp to light her face.

With the weather, it took the driver a good half hour to reach the inn. Rain poured down in buckets, making a marshy stew of the uncharacteristically busy yard. Jasper’s boots squelched in the mud as he jumped down from the carriage.

He didn’t attempt to guide Julia through it. Instead, as she stepped out of the cab, he swept her up in his arms and carried her into the building.

Julia clung to his neck. “So much for a cloudless sky.”

The unspoken sentiment was clear: Perhaps we’re in for some bad luck after all.

Setting her feet down in the smoke-filled front passage, Jasper wondered if she might not be right. The inn was teeming with people; a chaos of voices and clinking glass drifting out from the small dining room.

When the innkeeper finally deigned to make an appearance, it was to inform Jasper they were full up.