Sarah watched Jacob with a bemused expression as he guided Pompey and Cicero in front of a small but pleasant house on Summer Street. He’d pulled her out of bed just after dawn, urged her to dress quickly, and helped her into the gig. With a rap of the reins, the two horses trotted into the still-cool morning. Sarah pulled her light shawl around her shoulders. With the whisper of a smile on his full lips, Jacob refused to tell her where they were going, and now it appeared they had arrived.
“Whoa!” A lanky boy came out to take the reins. “This is Isaac, our outside lad.”
“How do ye do, ma’am.”
Sarah shook her head in surprise. “Er, well, thank you. Jacob, what do you mean Isaac is our stable boy? Where are we?”
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