This is the eight entry out of the thirty I'm attempting. It is part of a series of thirty entries so I hope you'll read each daily post to find out what happens in the end.
Thank you for reading!
Mr Langston’s chafed lips puckered once more. For a healthy gentleman, no more than fifty years of age, his face looked awfully affected by the mere force of the wind. The rest of him was in adequate health and it lent nothing to her need for relaxing when she had to keep inching away from the sly approach of his hand.
He’d looked about to say something when the barouche jolted to a halt.
When they were on the ground, Mr Langston and the driver were inspecting the front where a cracked wheel rested in the sharp dip of ground.