The heavy wooden door of the carriage slammed shut, sealing Rowan and Delaney inside the small cabin. Outside, the driver was already climbing onto his high box, preparing the horses for the long journey back to London.
Inside the carriage, the air was thick with tension. It was so thick and heavy that it was difficult to breathe.
Rowan sat on the velvet cushions opposite Delaney. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his large hands. He was a man completely consumed by frustration. He ran his fingers roughly through his blonde hair, ruining his usually perfect appearance. His broad shoulders were tense, tight like coiled springs. He had been so close. The key to saving his family, his estate, and his entire future had been standing right in front of him, and he had lost her.
