Adeline Sedgley has been kidnapped.

She supposes her captor might not see it that way, as Mr. William Pemberton—her best friend Caroline’s eldest brother—has always been a contrarian. 

But what else would one call it? Mr. Pemberton found her at the inn in Gretna Green, bundled her into this godforsaken carriage (which was no mean feat—she is not a small girl), and has been glaring at her ever since. Two hours into their journey back to London, the carriage bouncing and jumbling through the whipping storm outside, and he hasn’t ceased scowling at her for a single moment.

Unfair, really, when Addie is the one being kidnapped. She told him as much when he first shepherded her into the carriage, and he did, predictably, not take it well.

“Kidnapped indeed!” he’d scoffed, slamming the door shut behind him and pushing his dark, snow-damp curls out of his face. 

His hair is far too long, Addie has often thought, tousled around his shoulders like some sort of unkempt labourer. Hardly fit