It was a tight squeeze.“Ye can go inside with yer lady, milord,” Darby, the coachman, said for the fourth time. “I don’t mind the dog, and now that he’s out in the open, he seems fine.”“Thank you, but I feel better keeping an eye on him myself.” And keeping an eye on Darby. He’d swear the fellow would not see his seventieth year, but Belmont, the innkeeper, had assured him the old man would get them to Town safely. And Ash hadn’t had a choice. Darby was the only coachman for hire. Darby’s son, the Singing Maid’s main coachman, was laid up with the ague.“Lady Ashton would be very unhappy if something happened to her pet.” Ash smiled. “And you need to keep your full attention on your horses.” Though there was little danger those poor creatures would bolt. They were rather elderly themselves, older even than the horse he’d driven from the manor.No, the real reason Ash was sitting out in the chilly March air was to keep his attention off Jess, though that was proving to be well-nigh impossible.
