“I’m not going to be sick. Carriages don’t make me ill. They make me wish I was not inside carriages.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand.” “I am . . . uncomfortable . . . in them.” “So you don’t travel?” He raised a brow. “Of course I travel, as you can see.” “Yes. But long journeys must be difficult.” There was a pause. “I don’t wish to be difficult.” She chuckled at that. “You think your aversion to carriages is what makes you difficult?” He smiled at her jest, a tiny quirk in his otherwise flat mouth. “I think you are what makes me difficult, these days.” “Surely not,” she teased. “I
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