The morning began with rain — heavy, relentless, drumming against the windows of Velenhart Manor. The downpour had driven most of the guests indoors, filling the parlour with card games and idle chatter.
Camilla had been content to sit near the fire with a book, ignoring the matchmaking murmurs behind her, when Lady Velenhart voice rang out from the doorway.
"Xavier, dear — take Miss Fairbourne into town for me. The dressmaker has a package, and Adrian is already engaged with the solicitor."
Camilla's head snapped up. "Oh, that's quite alright, I—"
"Nonsense," Lady Voss interrupted with a smile that brooked no argument. "The carriage is ready."
And just like that, the trap was sprung.
---
The carriage ride was quiet at first, save for the steady drum of rain on the roof. Camilla kept her gaze fixed on the passing blur of grey countryside, determined not to look at the man sitting across from her.
It didn't last.
She could feel his eyes on her — not openly, not enough to accuse him, but just enough to make her skin hum with awareness.
"You've been avoiding me," she said finally, her tone light, though her heart beat faster.
"You make it sound deliberate," he replied, stretching his legs slightly.
"It is deliberate," she countered. "And yet here we are."
His mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile. "Fate, perhaps."
They reached the dressmaker's shop, the errand itself mercifully brief. But when they returned to the carriage, the rain had worsened, turning the road to a slow, muddy crawl.
The air inside seemed warmer now, the space smaller.
At one sharp turn, the wheels hit a rut, and the jolt sent Camilla sliding across the seat — directly into Xavier's side. His hand came up instinctively, gripping her waist to steady her.
She should have pulled away. She didn't.
His thumb brushed against her through the thin layers of her gown, a touch so subtle it could have been accidental — but wasn't.
"Careful," he murmured, his voice lower than the rumble of thunder outside.
She met his gaze, breath shallow. "You're the one holding me."
He didn't let go right away. The tension between them coiled tighter, the carriage rocking gently beneath them as the rain hammered the roof.
Then, as if remembering himself, he released her and turned his gaze back to the window. "We'll be home soon."
Camilla shifted back to her seat, her skin still tingling where his hand had been. She didn't know whether to be frustrated or grateful for his restraint — but she did know one thing: if they kept being thrown together like this, one of them was going to break.