The carriage slowed again, until it finally stopped, though neither moved for a few good seconds.
Meanwhile, the coachman hesitated outside. He had been driving long enough to recognize the silence that followed an argument. He was not entirely certain what sort of argument had been taking place behind him, but he had heard enough raised voices to suspect that entering at the wrong moment might be unwise.
Still, they had arrived, and he had a duty.
So, after a brief internal debate, he opened the carriage door. "Uh—my lord…"
Anthony and Penelope both turned toward him at the same time.
The coachman's face changed.
For one dreadful second, he felt as though he had interrupted something far more important than a conversation.
He glanced at Anthony. Then at Penelope. Then back at Anthony.
Perhaps he should close the door. Perhaps he should pretend he had never opened it. Perhaps he should disappear into the nearest hedge.
