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Lowen settled across from her. Even in the carriage, he maintained his impeccable posture. “If you’re ill again, I’d like to be here to help.”

Helena smoothed her skirts awkwardly. “That’s very kind of you.”

He gave a small shrug. “Think nothing of it.”

Impossible as that was, a small, deluded part of her wanted to believe he was here because he truly cared for her. But the memory of their last time together was quick to tarnish that fragile hope. There was the possibility she carried his heir—of course he’d see to her health.

The carriage began to sway, signifying the start of their journey. Lowen turned his head toward the window, watching the few people passing by, each surely preoccupied with their own troubles.

Despite the welcoming bright sky above, Helena reached for the curtain and drew it closed. Traveling had worsened the fatigue that accompanied her condition, and she knew sleep would claim her whether she wished it or not. Better to avoid the sun in her face.

“Would you like me to draw my curtain as well?” Lowen asked.

“Oh—no. That’s not necessary,” she answered quickly, but he did it anyway.

“I didn’t mean to keep you from riding,” she said, awkwardly. “You must find this terribly dull.”

“I’d hardly call it dull. A reprieve from the saddle is welcome, and…” He hesitated. In the shadows, his eyes softened as they met hers. “I’d rather be here. With you. It seemed…appropriate to join you today.”

Helena’s cheeks warmed again. “I haven’t been very good company lately,” she admitted. “I’ve been sick most mornings, more tired than usual. It feels like I’m asleep more than I’m awake.”

Lowen nodded in understanding. “I’m sure traveling doesn’t help. Nonetheless, I’m here to ensure your comfort.”

The carriage rocked gently as it rumbled down the road, lulling her like a babe in a cradle. Helena yawned and nestled against the brocade seat, seeking a more comfortable position.

“Do you need anything? More pillows, perhaps?” Lowen asked, holding one out to her.

She let out a small laugh. “That one’s yours.” She doubted he would use it, though—Lowen never spread himself over the seat the way Isaac would.

“I don’t mind,” he replied, but she shook her head.

The steady rhythm of the wheels, coupled with the ache of a changing body, began to weigh on her.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and she barely noticed when her head tilted to the side, sleep claiming her before she could stop it.

Helena couldn’t be certain if she was dreaming.

She felt her weightless body moving without her doing.

If it was a dream, she didn’t mind. Her world went dark again.

The next time she stirred, the world felt different. Her cheek rested against something firm and warm, and a steady rise and fall beneath her told her she was no longer alone on her bench.

Groggy, she blinked slowly, her vision adjusting to see the lapels of Lowen’s coat beneath her.

“Sorry,” she murmured, barely lifting her head before her eyes threatened to close again.

“Don’t be,” Lowen said softly, and he tightened his hold on her.

Safe and cocooned in the warmth of his arms, Helena let herself drift back into sleep.

Habit compelled Lowen to take Helena in his arms as she slept, his body moving before his mind could protest. Every instinct screamed at him to keep his distance, to hold on to the resentment that had been festering for weeks.

But his hands, like old memories, found their way to her without thought, drawing her closer.

He resented how easily his instincts took over, how the feel of her, even through the fabric of their clothing, sent a jolt of excitement through him.

I should be angry with her,he thought. But the feeling evaporated like smoke, swept away by the warmth of her body against his.

His arms were betraying him, pulling her closer before his mind could stop them.

She felt too right against him, and his body, still attuned to her presence, refused to let her go.

Damn her—damn himself—for still needing her this much.

At least for the time being.

It was ten miles before the carriage stopped to change horses at a bustling coaching inn, and waking Helena from her slumber proved nearly difficult. Lowen almost felt guilty for disturbing her, but this was the perfect opportunity for a meal before setting off again.

With a bit of fuss, Lowen managed to rouse Helena enough for her to sit upright. She blinked rapidly against the light as the carriage door opened.

“Here.” He held out his hand, and she obeyed wordlessly. “We’ve stopped to change horses, but we should stretch our legs and eat something.”

Helena didn’t respond at first, leaning against him for support as the noise and movement around them slowly drew her from her stupor.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, glancing down at her.

“Not particularly,” she murmured, a hand rested on her belly.

Lowen frowned. Helena looked a little too peaky for his liking. “It’s been hours since you last ate, and it wasn’t very much to begin with.”

“I’d much rather nap,” she groaned, as he guided her inside the inn.

It was more boisterous than when last Lowen was here, merely days ago.

The previous storm had kept many away from traveling, but now in the height of the summer sun, the traveling crowds emerged.

From where he stood at the entrance, it was impossible to discern whether there was any space for either of them but thankfully, one of the barmaids recognized Lowen and pointed him to an empty table tucked near a stack of wine casks.

“The roast here is particularly delicious,” Lowen said, helping Helena to her seat. “But if that’s too much, I would recommend to you the bread and butter pudding.”

At the mention of a dessert, she brightened slightly. “I do like pudding.”

Lowen nearly smiled. “I’m not opposed to feeding you again if I must.”

Helena let out a faint hum, resting her cheek against her hand. “Careful, or I might start expecting this kind of attention.”

“And would that be so terrible?”

For the second time today, she laughed. After all that had passed between them, there was still no sweeter sound.

“My stomach will be very round soon, you know. Your arm might have a hard time reaching over to feed me then.”

His breeches tightened obscenely at the thought. “I’m sure I’ll manage,” he replied gruffly, trying to swat the image away before he began he became any more uncomfortable.

After Lowen ordered their food with the familiar barmaid, they sat in silence for a moment. Helena seemed to still be shaking off her daze—or perhaps she was simply pensive. Then, as if the thought had struck her out of nowhere, she asked softly, “Did you learn to braid because of Thomasin?”

He nodded. “Yes. As I mentioned once before, she was particularly fussy as a little girl. She outright refused to let any of the nursemaids touch her hair. To ease their frustrations—and her own—I learned to braid it myself.”

As much as he loved his little sister, Thomasin had been something of a terror at times.

Lowen—not even an adult himself—hadn’t the faintest idea how to manage her.

Of course, he could have left her entirely in the care of the nursemaids, but she was all he truly had left.

The thought of her growing up even more alone than he had was simply unbearable.

“I suppose if we have a girl, we won’t need a nursemaid, will we?” Helena teased, though her expression quickly sobered. “But—of course, I’ll provide you with an heir.”

"An heir, yes." He paused, his attention drifting over Helena’s reddening face. He wondered what she might be thinking. "We’ll see to that when the time comes."

Truthfully, he wasn’t as concerned about heirs as he probably should be. Not now, at least—not while he was still navigating his own uncertainty with Helena.

When the food arrived, they ate quickly, not wanting to waste any more precious daylight while traveling. Lowen watched Helena closely for any signs of illness, relieved when none appeared. She made a good effort with her pudding, managing to eat more than half.

When they returned to the carriage, Helena rearranged the pillows like a little bird tending to her nest, burying herself in the cushions.

This time, Lowen refrained from taking her in his arms, as much as the impulse urged him to, allowing her to spread out across the seat as comfortably as she could.

Since their start to the day had been disrupted, they traveled well into the night, finally reaching the last inn when the moon was high in the sky.

Lowen carried Helena inside, and the owners—an older husband and wife—seemed to rejoice in the gesture, clucking over how attentive and caring the usually taciturn duke was being with his wife.

“Oh, she’s a looker, she is, Your Grace,” the wife whispered to him as she escorted him to the room.

“She is,” Lowen replied. He could not help but agree to any compliment toward Helena.

Once inside the room, he gently set her down on the counterpane before waking her.

“I’ll fetch Mercy to help you prepare for bed,” he said softly.

Helena waved him off. “No, I can do it.” She sat up and clumsily attempted to kick off her boots, but they wouldn’t budge.

“Perhaps... I do need help tonight,” she groaned in frustration, peering up at him with half-closed eyes.

Lowen bit back a smile. “Allow me.” He crouched and undid the laces to her boots, neatly setting them against the wall.

“Can you do the rest?” She asked sheepishly.

With great difficulty, Lowen managed to nod. His body already burned with desire before even touching her. Undressing her was no great task, but keeping himself from pulling her into his arms and smothering her with kisses was a monumental feat.

In the quiet of the room, with only the soft rustle of Helena’s clothing being discarded piece by piece, until her delicate chemise lay between them, he realized how much of his anger had been forgotten.

He hadn’t given Elias or the letters a single thought today, and even now, remembering the anger felt distant.

He didn’t want to be angry. Being with Helena again, despite the circumstances, felt more comfortable, more natural, than all the time he had spent alone before marrying her.

How foolish he felt now. On his journey to Lancashire, he had believed he’d hold the upper hand—to lord over her with the pain she had caused him.

Yes, how foolish. She had done nothing but speak the truth.

It was he who had caused her great pain, time and time again.

Even now, he hurt her still, expecting her to endure the long journey to Cornwall while carrying their child.

Indeed, what a fool.

Lowen laid her down and covered her with the blanket.

“Tomorrow, before we leave, may I please take a bath?” she murmured, her eyes already closed.

“Yes. Anything you want,” he replied.

As Lowen prepared himself for bed, he glanced back at Helena, at the slow rise and fall of her chest. His own was restless; his heart kicked and ached for her.

He had missed her terribly. He loved her terribly…too much to continue this distance.