Page 9 of A Spinster's Guide to Landing a Lyon

“If you’re planning to talk my ear off, go ahead. I’m the elder sister, remember? I’m used to a younger sibling’s best attempts to annoy me.”

“Are you comfortable?” The sudden change in topic had her twisting her head to throw him a dubious look.

“Yes. Quite.”

“You don’t look comfortable.”

“I’m fine.”

“It’s going to be a couple of hours. You don’t want to take your slippers off and curl up under a blanket? I’m sure you have one in here.” He looked around, lifting the cushions in front of him to reveal a hidden storage space along with a well-worn blanket.

“It wouldn’t be proper.”

Yes. Exactly. That was it, wasn’t it?

“And that’s what it’s all about for you?”

“Yes.”

“Except that you’re here. Buying me. Ensconced in scandal.”

“Not by choice.”

“Everything is a choice, Amelia.”

He set the blanket over her lap softly, watching her shoulders relax at the warmth it provided. It was summer, but nights still grew a little chilly.

It might have been his imagination, but he thought she mumbled a thank you.

Nope. It was definitely his imagination because in a second, she was leaning forward grabbing a second blanket.

“And this,” she turned toward him, tucking the blanket around his thighs in a most patronizing fashion, “is for you.”

He had a couple of options here.

Say thank you.

Throw the blanket off.

Laugh.

Growl at her for being so defiant.

He opted for the golden rule. “Thank you, Amelia. How very provisional of you. See? I’m learning about you already.”

Upon returning to her sitting position, she may have harrumphed, but she did wrap the blanket back around herself.

“You’re the responsible one. The caretaker. You wear the world on your shoulders—”

“You know nothing about me.”

“I know more than you think.” And he did. He could see her because she was like him.

Silence filled the carriage for a while, and the bumps of the road lulled them into a dozing state. Until they lurched to a stop. A small burst of commotion and yelling could be heard from outside.

And for some reason, the worst possible scenario flooded Benedict’s mind.

“Quick.” He stood, hauling Amelia to her feet. “Crawl into this space and don’t say a word.”