He’d taken as many breaks as he’d dared without risking the health of the animals and the well-being of his servants. He could tell by the way the coachman and footman lumbered into the restaurant of the inn that they were exhausted. They’d been good sports, though, never voicing a single complaint the entire way. The horses were unhitched from the carriage and eating hay from a trough. He wasn’t sure if it was enough to sustain them for another full night’s travel or not. Standing in front of the inn, he tapped his thigh. The innkeeper had said there was room for him, his servants, and the horses, but the rooms wouldn’t last long. All the other inns were booked up. If he was going to stay overnight, now was the time to make the arrangements. What were the chances that Byron pushed his coachman and horses all the way to the estate without stopping for at least one night to allow everyone a chance to rest? Byron already had a good lead since it’d taken Warren the entire day to figure out what had happened.
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