her head pushed against him and one hand lying in his lap. His fine embroidered jacket was creased and the hat he had worn was on the floor beside him. Outside the day looked a lot later than it should have been.
‘What time is it?’ she asked, jerking away with horror. Her mouth felt furry and her stomach nauseous.
‘Half past twelve.’
‘We have stopped?’
‘The horses needed a rest from walking.’
‘Oh, my God.’ She placed her head in her hands and said it again. ‘You are telling me that we have been driving around London because I fell asleep? This is worse than Stanley, worse than the waistcoat, worse even than my trying to clean you up...’ Trailing off, she groaned again before relapsing into silence.
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