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small, stuffy room with its riotous crimson-striped wallpaper was crammed with furniture. A fire had been lit despite the evening being warm. Charity’s cheeks burned, and she watched Robert from beneath her lashes as he sliced the sirloin of beef roast. He placed several portions on her plate, but she could hardly eat a bite and sat watching him tuck into the meal. Obviously his emotions weren’t overset by the occasion, she thought, annoyed. But she knew it to be entirely unreasonable to accuse him of having too good an appetite.
    “You must be tired,” he said, after she tried to suppress a yawn. “A little.”
    She eased her stiff shoulders. She’d been tense since this all began. And now her pulse thumped that he might wish to bed her. She tamped down a thrill that travelled up her backbone and was suddenly very much awake.
    “Go to bed, Charity. A lot has happened today, and we have a long day tomorrow.” He raised a brow. “I don’t want you exhausted or sick by the time we reach London.”
    She frowned and rose from table. He had managed to make it sound as if he was more concerned with how she looked than her health. “Very well. Goodnight, Robert.”
    Perhaps she was overtired from sitting beside Robert for hours and suffering that nervous heavy sensation in her stomach. It was ever-present when he was near. She couldn’t sleep. She pounded her pillow and thought about Robert in the next room. She tried to imagine how he looked. Did he sleep in a nightshirt? Naked? Suddenly her imagination took the suggestion and ran wild with it. Now there was no likelihood of her sleeping.
    She tossed over onto her back and stared at the ceiling. A man’s body was a complete mystery to her. How would his skin feel? It looked so smooth. By nightfall, his chin was shadowed in dark hair, and when he ran his hand over it, it rasped. She curled her fingers. It must be bristly to the touch. She liked his big hands. What would it be like to have him touch her in those special places? She tucked her hands between her legs and shivered. She didn’t understand herself. Didn’t she need time to get to know him? Here she was wishing he’d put his arm around her in the carriage. She tried to convince herself that her nerves, since her parents’ accident was her reason for wanting his embrace.
    However, a silent voice whispered she was fooling herself.
    It was very late. Outside in the corridor, the floor creaked like a series of footsteps. This old inn was haunted, she was sure of it. She didn’t like being alone, it would be better to have Robert here. In her bed, there was room enough for two.
    The next day was much like the last. She talked about her family to fill the silence as the countryside flashed past. How her father had been able to quote whole passages from all of Shakespeare’s plays, and how his oratories in the village hall were always warmly applauded. “He taught a group of village players to perform a Shakespearean play every summer.”
    “It might have been more pertinent to run his estate efficiently,” Robert said in a dry tone.
    She frowned. “Not everyone is good at that.” She moved to the corner of the carriage.
    “No.” Robert sighed. “My uncle was interested in progress.” He shrugged. “But not the actual running of his own estates and businesses. He preferred someone else to take care of that while he read about the latest poetry, philosophy and scientific discoveries.”
    “Can you run a large estate?” she asked curiously.
    His eyes widened. “I haven’t had to, but I intend to try.” He gave her an apologetic grin, perhaps realizing he’d hurt her feelings. “Maybe I will be, for philosophy seems rather pointless to me and I’m not keen on reciting iambic pentameter either.”
    “No? Not even a little from Romeo and Juliet?” she asked hopefully. He laughed and shook his head.
    She spent another night alone feeling as if all her nerve endings had come alive. It was well