Chapter Twenty-Nine
Charles had been on the road for three hours sitting in the mail coach bound for Dover. Three hours of thinking. Three hours of wondering whether Elizabeth loved him. Three hours of mulling over exactly how much he loved her.
He had been lucky enough to get a seat inside the coach, but it didn’t make the tedious journey any easier—not when he had nothing to do but think. He realized now he should have just ridden his horse, but then he would have had to arrange for a change of mount along the route, and he would have been exhausted by the time he arrived.
So, instead, he’d sat there, swaying with the movement of the coach, staring out the window, thinking. He’d gone over his last meeting with Elizabeth again and again, and yet the more he thought about it, the more c
