Riding lessons forced on him as a child were finally paying off. He felt a bit ridiculous riding down the middle of a deserted New York street in a carriage, the only sound the horse's hooves as they hit the ground, but it was for a good cause. Heather was feeling a bit down, or if Probie was right, she had to be, and he wanted to cheer her up.
One benefit to the lack of people was that shopping was a heck of a lot quicker. He'd managed to find a shop with an old fashioned looking picnic basket, and a big picnic blanket to go with it. His stop at the Italian restaurant he'd originally planned to take her to had been just as quick. A bottle of French champagne added to the list and he was ready to go. It was all tucked up underneath the blanket in the back of the carriage. He was wearing one of the coats Heather had found for them all over his jeans, shirt and sweater, fingers tucked in to a warm pair of leather gloves. He wasn't ashamed to admit (to himself, anyway) that getting sick scared him just a bit, ever since he'd had the plague.
It wasn't long before he spotted her in the distance, standing outside of a clothes store like she said she'd be. She looked, for lack of any other words, completely adorable.
He knew there was no way to hide his approach, so instead, once he'd reined in the horses on the road beside the footpath he hopped down to the ground on her side. Sweeping an arm in the direction of the carriage, he spoke in a put upon, posh voice. "Your carriage awaits, my lady."