Constance turned to Roger, the sway of the carriage sending her lurching toward him with each uneven bump in the road. They hadn’t spoken more than two words since leaving the brothel, but with twenty minutes of silence behind them, Roger seemed to be getting antsy. Constance stared out her open window, watching Starlings flit from branch to branch in the trees that lined the road. They were out of the city now, and in the daylight, Constance could see the pristine grounds; fields of green, peppered with sheep and at some points, cattle. Roger had his window open as well. Despite the good breeze outside, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the carriage grew warm quickly with the two of them in it. Constance forced a smile. “You did sleep half the day away.” “Sure, but idn’t it?” “It is.” “Ain’t even had tea, yet. You fink he’s having ye fer tea, den? I hearda some fellas likin that sor’a thing.
