“How long, Mr.Worth?” Lydia’s eyes rested on the horizon beyond the coach’s window.

Nigel Worth, a second son of a minor nobleman, was an affable man and loved to talk to anyone who would listen. He had flirted with Lydia periodically, especially when Mrs.Williams slept, although he held no illusions of her finding him appealing. It was just his nature. He actually did know of the girl’s husband indirectly. As a solicitor in a neighboring county, he had once represented a man in court trying to recover the gambling debt that George Wickham owed him. Of course, Worth had not disclosed to Lydia the fact of his dealings with the girl’s husband. From what Nigel had discerned Mrs. Wickham held no real knowledge of her husband’s base nature. The man had left several residents in Middlewich holding his gambling blunt. “Close to an hour, Mrs. Wickham—should not be much longer than that.” He looked at his pocket watch before depositing it in a side pocket of his waistcoat.

“My Lord.” Cathleen’s voice disturbed Adam’s sleep. He had taken pleasure in her body along the winding roads from Nottingham and then contentedly nodded off, allowing the coach to rock him to sleep.

Adam slowly opened his eyes to find his mistress looking distressed. “What is it?”

“Listen,” she instructed.

Fully on alert now, Lawrence sat up, straightening his clothes as he did. “It sounds menacing.” He moved the shade from the window to have a look for himself.The rain came down like liquid bullets tapping out an incessant rhythm on his coach. He considered speaking to Mr. Johnson through the trap, but he doubted that his coachman could hear him over the rain’s pounding.“You might move closer to the strap,” he cautioned, trying to keep his voice even. “We may be in for a bumpy ride.”