Mary Nichols - The Viscount's Unconventional Bride

‘Do you think anyone else noticed the slipped bindings?’ Louise asked when they were out of earshot and making their way back to the George.

‘Don’ know. I reckon Mr Linton did. He was closest.’

Too close, she realised. ‘We will stay in our room until the coach is ready to leave. Perhaps we will not see him again.’ It was said more in regret than hope, she realised. But now was not the time to be mooning over a handsome man; she was on a mission, a most important mission, one that would probably dictate how the rest of her life would evolve. It was certainly not the time to get involved with cards and duels and handsome young men, whose touch excited her. She must hold herself aloof.

‘Much hope of that,’ Betty said. ‘He’s bin with us all the way so far, so I don’ reckon he’ll stop now.’

The coach was in the yard, the horses harnessed and the driver and guard inspecting the vehicle, tackle and horses, making sure all was well before taking his passengers on board. A woman with a young child, a young man escorting a schoolboy, and a man in a black coat, green with age, were waiting to board it. Louise and Betty just had time to go to their room, rebind her breasts, collect their bags and pay their bill before hurrying out to take their seats.

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