The carriage began to move, its pace slow in the congested streets of London.
“How long shall we travel today?” Iris asked.
“About six hours in total, if the roads were not too affected by this morning’s rain.”
“Not such a long day.”
He smiled in agreement. “This close to town there are plenty of opportunities to take a rest, should you need one.”
“Thank you.”
It was by far the most polite, proper, and boring conversation they had ever had. Ironic, that.
“Do you mind if I read?” Iris asked, reaching into her reticule for a book.
“Not at all. I envy you, as a matter of fact. I am wholly unable to read in a moving carriage.”
“Even when you are facing forward?” She bit her lip. Good heavens, what was she saying? He would construe that to mean she wished for him to come sit next to her.
Which was not what she was saying at all.
Not that she would mind.
Which wasn’t to say that she desired it.
She was completely indifferent. Really. She did not care one way or another where he chose to sit.
“It matters not which way I am facing,” Sir Richard answered, reminding Iris that she had indeed asked him a question. “I find that staring out the window at a far-off spot often helps.”
“My mother says the same thing,” Iris agreed. “She, too, has difficulty reading in carriages.”
“I usually just ride alongside,” he said with a shrug. “It’s easier all the way around.”
“Did you not wish to do so today?” Oh, blast. Now he would think she was trying to boot him from the carriage. Which was also not what she was saying.
“I might later on,” he told her. “In town we move slowly enough that I’m not affected.”
She cleared her throat. “Right. Well, I’ll just read now, if you don’t mind.”
“Please.”
She opened her book and began to read. In a closed carriage. Alone with her new handsome husband. She read a book.
She had a feeling this was not the most romantic way to begin a marriage.
But then again, what did she know?
Chapter Nine
IT WAS NEARLY eight in the evening when they finally stopped for the day. Iris had been alone in the carriage for some time. They had made one brief stop so that everyone could see to their needs, and upon the resumption of their journey, Sir Richard had elected to ride alongside the vehicle. Iris told herself she did not feel slighted. He suffered from motion sickness; she did not wish him to become ill on their wedding day.
But it did mean she was left alone, and as the evening wore on, and the light grew dimmer, she could not even escape into the pages of her book. Now that they had left London behind, their pace was swifter, and the horses fell into a steady, soothing rhythm. She must have fallen asleep, because one moment she was somewhere in Buckinghamshire, and the next someone was gently shaking her shoulder and calling her name.
“Iris? Iris?”
“Mmmbrgh.” She never had woken up well.
“Iris, we’ve arrived.”
She blinked a few times until her husband’s face came into focus in the dim evening light. “Sir Richard?”
He smiled indulgently. “I should think you might be able to dispense with the ’Sir.’”
“Mmmmfh. Yes.” She yawned, shaking out her hand, which had fallen asleep. Her foot, too, she realized. “All right.”
He watched her with visible amusement. “Do you always wake so slowly?”
“No.” She pulled herself into a sitting position. At some point during the ride she’d slumped completely onto her side. “Sometimes I’m slower.”
He chuckled at that. “I shall take that under advisement. No important meetings for Lady Kenworthy before noon.”
Lady Kenworthy. She wondered how long it would take to grow used to it.
“I can usually be relied upon to be coherent by eleven,” Iris returned. “Although I must say, the best part of being married is going to be having my breakfast in bed.”
“The best part?”
She blushed, and the sudden import of her words finally woke her up. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “That was thoughtless—”
“Think nothing of it,” he cut in, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Her husband was not one to take ready insult. A very good thing that was, as Iris was not always one to consider her words before she spoke them.
“Shall we go?” Richard asked.
“Yes, of course.”