“It matters not which way I am facing,” Sir Richard answered, reminding Iris that she had indeed asked him a question. “I find that staring out the window at a far-off spot often helps.”

“My mother says the same thing,” Iris agreed. “She, too, has difficulty reading in carriages.”

“I usually just ride alongside,” he said with a shrug. “It’s easier all the way around.”

“Did you not wish to do so today?” Oh, blast. Now he would think she was trying to boot him from the carriage. Which was also not what she was saying.

“I might later on,” he told her. “In town we move slowly enough that I’m not affected.”

She cleared her throat. “Right. Well, I’ll just read now, if you don’t mind.”

“Please.”

She opened her book and began to read. In a closed carriage. Alone with her new handsome husband. She read a book.

She had a feeling this was not the most romantic way to begin a marriage.

But then again, what did she know?

Chapter Nine

IT WAS NEARLY eight in the evening when they finally stopped for the day. Iris had been alone in the carriage for some time. They had made one brief stop so that everyone could see to their needs, and upon the resumption of their journey, Sir Richard had elected to ride alongside the vehicle. Iris told herself she did not feel slighted. He suffered from motion sickness; she did not wish him to become ill on their wedding day.

But it did mean she was left alone, and as the evening wore on, and the light grew dimmer, she could not even escape into the pages of her book. Now that they had left London behind, their pace was swifter, and the horses fell into a steady, soothing rhythm. She must have fallen asleep, because one moment she was somewhere in Buckinghamshire, and the next someone was gently shaking her shoulder and calling her name.

“Iris? Iris?”

“Mmmbrgh.” She never had woken up well.

“Iris, we’ve arrived.”

She blinked a few times until her husband’s face came into focus in the dim evening light. “Sir Richard?”

He smiled indulgently. “I should think you might be able to dispense with the ’Sir.’”

“Mmmmfh. Yes.” She yawned, shaking out her hand, which had fallen asleep. Her foot, too, she realized. “All right.”

He watched her with visible amusement. “Do you always wake so slowly?”

“No.” She pulled herself into a sitting position. At some point during the ride she’d slumped completely onto her side. “Sometimes I’m slower.”

He chuckled at that. “I shall take that under advisement. No important meetings for Lady Kenworthy before noon.”

Lady Kenworthy. She wondered how long it would take to grow used to it.