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precariously against the back of the carriage, her lashes fanned out over darkened circles under her eyes. He moved quietly to sit beside her, drawing her head to rest on his shoulder. She opened her eyes and blinked at him in surprise, and he braced himself for her rejection, but instead she slowly replaced her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes again.
    It was not such an important gesture, but he reveled in it, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to provide a stable cushion, satisfied to offer her anything to ease her distress.
    They traveled straight through—stopping only for meals and to change horses, driving through the night and the entire next day before stopping at an inn to sleep.
    “Do you wish a separate room?” he asked Kitty, helping her out of the carriage. Though they were both weary of riding in silence in the cramped carriage, he was sorry not to spend another night with her sleeping against his shoulder.
    Kitty looked at the inn and then gave a small shake of her head. “No, thank you. Sharing a room with you for the night can’t be any worse than sharing a carriage.”
    He held out his arm for her. “Are you sure?” he asked sardonically.
    She made a show of looking for his traveling bag. “It depends on whether you packed that wretched strap!”
    He smiled, feeling a rush of affection for her and her ability to so gracefully ease the most tense of situations. She grasped his arm and sighed, looking more weary than she had the day before. He secured a room and they ate a cold meal.
    “My lord, my head is aching and I think a bit of fresh air might help,” she said uncertainly.
    “Of course, I shall escort you on a walk.”
    “Thank you.”
    He offered his arm and they walked slowly, down the small road of the village, taking in the smell of freshly cut hay, the sound of sheep bleating in the distance. When they turned a corner they came upon a large gathering of people—mostly men and boys, but some village women, too, all standing in a tight circle, calling and jeering.
    “What is it?” Kitty asked.
    “I’m not sure,” he said.
    “Let’s go and see, shall we?”
    He would have obliged her any request, despite his misgivings, so he led her toward the gathering. When they drew closer, he realized it was a cock fight. Stopping short, he wrapped an arm around Kitty’s waist and pulled her back in the direction they’d come.
    “What? What was it?” she asked.
    “A cock fight.”
    “No!” she breathed. “Is it barbaric?”
    “Yes. It should be outlawed, though it probably never will be.”
    “Well, why not?”
    He shrugged. “There’s not enough support in Parliament to get it passed. Thomas St. John, an old friend of mine from school, heads the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals and he’s tried to have it outlawed, along with bear-baiting, but it’s never gone anywhere.”
    Kitty was leaning on his arm more heavily now.
    “You’re exhausted, aren’t you? Come, let’s get you back to the inn.” In the room, Kitty looked at her traveling case uncertainly.
    “Shall I inquire whether there’s a maid to help you undress?”
    She hesitated, then swallowed. “No, you can unlace me,” she said, turning around to provide access to the laces on the back of her dress. She held her back stiffly and flinched when he touched her shoulder.
    “Kitty,” he said in a low voice in her ear. “I’m not going to force myself on you again. You have my word.”
    She darted a look over her shoulder. “Thank you,” was her nervous reply. Somehow, the more he tried to make it seem as though unlacing a lady’s dress was the most ordinary activity for him, the more he could not ignore the feel of his fingers brushing her bare flesh, nor the perfect shape of her narrow waist and flared hips. The sound of their breathing seemed overly loud in the quiet room. He opened the dress, breathing in the now-familiar smell of her as he loosened the laces of her corset. She