The familiar dressed footman was gone. The reassuring presence of Noah was horrifyingly absent, left behind on the cobblestones. Suzy's heart hammered against her ribs as the carriage, her own ducal carriage, dashed through the city streets at a reckless, unfamiliar pace.
She twisted around, peering through the small rear window. Noah was a diminishing figure, running desperately, his face a mask of alarm and effort, shouting something she couldn't hear over the clatter of hooves and wheels. But the carriage was too fast, expertly maneuvered through the thinning post-auction traffic by a driver whose face she hadn't seen, whose commands were harsh and unfamiliar. Soon, Noah was lost to sight.
Panic, cold and sharp, clawed at her. She poked her head out of the side window, the wind whipping her stray hair across her face. "Aaron!" she cried, using the name of their trusted coachman. "Aaron, could you slow down a bit, please? You seem to have forgotten Noah!"
