Nighttime had come much too quickly, casting long, cold shadows over the English countryside. After the disastrous meeting at Miss Flora's cottage, the journey had been suffocating. The silence in the carriage was heavy, thick with unspoken words and deep disappointment.
They had traveled for several hours before the dark sky forced them to stop. The driver pulled the tired horses into the courtyard of a quiet, respectable posting inn.
As if the universe itself was determined to keep them apart, the innkeeper had greeted them with a wide smile and announced that he had plenty of empty rooms. Without looking at Rowan, Delaney had immediately requested two separate bedchambers. She needed space. She needed to breathe away from his overwhelming presence. Rowan had simply nodded, his jaw tight, his broad shoulders stiff with guilt. He did not argue with her.
That night, they slept in separate rooms.
