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‘Off we go.’ He took a seat beside her and banged on the roof. ‘No second thoughts?’
‘None, but how long will it take to get there?’
‘A couple of days, I should think. We’ll be back with the boys by the end of the week, don’t worry.’
She nodded and then looked anxious again. ‘What do your family really think?’
‘They’re happy for us. They said so.’
‘It’s just so hard to believe, considering everything.’
‘Considering nothing.’ He gave her a sharp look. ‘You know my mother said something earlier about life being too short to carry ill will. I think my uncle and grandmother know it’s too short to judge a person by where they come from, too. At the very least, they know it’s foolish to stand between two people who care about each other.’ He paused briefly. ‘As we do.’
‘As we do.’ She met his gaze with a smile. ‘I wonder what Anna will say?’
‘That you’re too good for me, I expect.’ He slid across the bench, nudging his shoulder against hers. ‘Now, are you warm enough?’
‘You sound like your mother.’
‘I know, but she made some good points. It is colder than it was last week. I don’t want a frozen bride.’ He twisted his head as she laughed. ‘What?’
‘Some people do call me an ice queen.’
‘There’s no need to live up to it.’
‘Then you’ll be glad to hear that I’m feeling quite toasty. Almost too warm, actually.’
‘You do look a bit flushed, now that you mention it. Are you feeling all right?’
‘Perfectly. It’s probably just the hot brick. I’m only worried about the poor coachman.’
‘For a start, there are two poor coachmen and I’ve said they can take turns travelling inside if they want to. For another thing, they’re both being paid a small fortune.’
‘Good.’
‘Then we’re all set.’ He slid his hand into hers, lacing their fingers together and tipping his head back with a sigh. Maybe his mother was right and it was foolish, racing off to Scotland in the middle of December, but now that they were on their way, he couldn’t wait to be married.
* * *
‘We’re here.’
‘Not yet...’ Henrietta shook her head as she felt Sebastian’s hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m sleeping.’
‘I know, but we have an anvil to get married over.’
‘Oh!’ She prised her eyelids open and looked out. After two days, most of which time she’d spent asleep, both in the carriage and the inn where they’d stayed for the night, it seemed they were finally over the Scottish border and in Gretna. Which was a relief in more ways than one. She’d gone from feeling slightly warm to quite ill the morning after they’d left Feversham. Not very ill, just aware of a tightness in her throat and behind her eyes, not to mention an overwhelming sense of exhaustion, all of which suggested she was on the verge of a bad cold.
Naturally, she hadn’t shared any of this information with Sebastian. She had a feeling that he would have turned the carriage around if he’d known the truth and now that she’d agreed to marry him, she wanted to do it as quickly as possible. As it was, she could tell that he’d been watching her more closely than usual.
He’d tried not to be too obvious about it when she was awake, but the tilt of his head, facing straight ahead but with his chin turned slightly sideways, gave him away. Every time she’d sniffed, which had started to happen more and more frequently, his fingers had twitched beneath hers. There had been moments when she would have given a large proportion of her meagre savings just to be able to blow her nose without him noticing. Instead, she’d tried to angle her face away from his scrutiny and towards the window, but after a while it had made her neck stiff.
‘Are you sure you’re not feeling unwell?’ He asked, climbing out of the carriage.
‘I’m fine.’ She stifled the urge to sneeze. ‘So what do we do now?’
‘Now I’ll go and speak to the blacksmith and see if he can marry us.’ He paused. ‘Are you sure—?’
‘I’m fine.’
