The traveling carriage rattled continuously over the hard, uneven country roads. The wooden wheels spun rapidly, eating up the miles between the Kingsley estate and the streets of London.
Inside the small, confined cabin, the air was incredibly thick and tense. The carriage ride was completely silent.
Delaney sat perfectly still on the worn leather bench. She turned her head slightly and looked outside the small glass window, watching the scenery blur past them. She saw bare, brown trees, green fields, and small, distant farmhouses. But she was not truly looking at the landscape. She was calculating the time and the distance.
Across from her, Lucas sat in total silence. His heavy fur-lined coat made him look even larger and more imposing in the small space. His dark eyes never left her face. He was watching her like a hawk watching a trapped rabbit. His left arm remained securely bound in its dark silk sling, held stiffly against his chest.
