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Olivia looked at him in confusion. Before she could ask what he meant, James reached for her gently, giving her every opportunity to pull away, and when she did not, he drew her close.

His hand settled against her cheek, his thumb brushing softly along her skin as he looked into her eyes. For one suspended moment he remembered the waterfall, the almost-kiss he had denied himself, and every reason he had told himself that he must keep his distance.

Then he stopped thinking.

He lowered his head and kissed her.

The kiss was gentle at first, almost uncertain, as though neither of them knew what to do with the sudden intimacy.

Olivia remained perfectly still for a heartbeat before her fingers curled into the front of his coat.

James felt something inside him shift at the contact. He had expected relief, perhaps satisfaction at giving her something she had wanted, but instead he felt a frightening tenderness that had nothing to do with duty or obligation.

He kissed her once more, softly, before drawing back.

Neither spoke. Olivia stared at him, her cheeks flushed, while James remained close enough to feel the warmth of her breath.

He wanted to say something, but every possible word seemed inadequate.

The remainder of the journey passed in silence. Yet it was no longer the strained silence of two strangers trapped in an arrangement. Something had changed between them.

The next morning, Olivia found herself avoiding mirrors. Every time she caught sight of her own reflection, she remembered the carriage, the warmth of James’s hand at her waist, and the uncertain softness of his mouth against hers.

My first kiss.

Although she had spent half the night insisting to herself that it had been nothing more than an attempt to comfort her, some treacherous part of her heart refused to believe it.

Worse I have no idea what James thought of it.

He had said nothing after they returned home, and neither had she, which meant that the silence between them had become considerably more awkward than before.

In the end, she decided to spend the day with Felix, because there was nowhere else she could think of going where her heart might settle.

When Olivia entered the nursery cottage, she found Felix sleeping peacefully in his little cradle, his tiny fists tucked near his cheeks. The sight of him immediately softened something inside her, and she approached the cradle with a smile, bending to brush one finger gently over his soft hair.

"There you are, my darling," she whispered, though she knew he could not hear her. "You have no idea how much trouble the grown people around you are causing themselves."

She straightened with a quiet sigh, wondering whether she could somehow remain there until the rest of her life, caring for Felix and avoiding every difficult conversation that threatened to make her chest ache.

The door opened behind her, and Olivia turned to find James entering the room. His expression was solemn, but there was something different in his eyes, something that made her realize he had not come merely to check upon Felix.

He spoke briefly to the servants, dismissing them for an hour, and waited until the door closed behind them before turning back toward her. "We should talk," he said quietly.

Olivia swallowed, suddenly aware that her heart was beating far too quickly. With Felix sleeping peacefully only a few feet away, there was no audience, no ball, no gossiping ladies, and no convenient reason for either of them to run away.

"I am sorry," Olivia began, clasping her hands before her because she did not know what else to do with them. "About last night, and the way I spoke to you. I was angry and frightened, and I suppose I forgot everything you have done for me and Louiza and Felix." She lowered her gaze, ashamed of the confession. "We owe you so much, James, and sometimes I feel guilty because I am not always grateful enough."

James crossed the room and stopped before her, his expression softening. "Everything that has happened began with you, Olivia," he replied, his voice low as he glanced toward Felix. "Your inclination to escape led us to one another. It led us to this child, and ultimately it led us to our marriage. You have given me far more than you realize."

Olivia's throat tightened at that, because she had never considered herself capable of giving James anything. She had always thought of herself as the complication in his carefully ordered life, the reckless woman who had arrived with a twin, a troublesome family, and enough chaos to overturn his plans.

"I do not want the London wedding if we are going to have secrets between us," she said, lifting her eyes to his. "I cannot stand beside you before our families and promise myself to you while wondering what happened to your brother."

She hesitated, then added more gently, "I do not believe you killed him, James. Not in the way you made it sound."

James drew a slow breath and began pacing across the room. Olivia watched him carefully, seeing the tension gathering in his shoulders as though he were preparing himself for something painful.

For several moments, he said nothing, and she wondered …