SWINDON, MARCH 19th, 1872
I let out a long breath, unsure whether I should feel relieved or nervous. We are alone in the stables. I have heard too many stories of what happens inside them when a pair is alone. Suddenly, I feel his searching gaze on me, and I quickly brush past him before he notices that my face is burning with heat. I think I have embarrassed myself quite enough in front of him.
“Follow me,” I instruct him, my voice sounding strange to my own ears. I head exactly towards the place where I know no one will be able to spot us. But we can only reach it by the ladder. It is the spot on the first floor, where hay is kept. No one will be coming up here until late in the afternoon.
I stop in front of the ladder, suddenly realizing what an awful idea this was. I tur
