I wasn't expecting Norah to break.

Perhaps it was ignorant of me. Perhaps I hadn't truly considered the stress that our arrangement must have put a young, unwed woman under. But Norah was, without a doubt, one of the strongest women I'd ever known. It seems indisputable to me that she, if anyone, could handle this. And she had. For a long time without complaint. So she had earned the right to a breakdown or two.

I should have sought her out sooner regarding the annual week of festivities at Southill Park. I should have discussed the events with her, ensured that she understood just how central, how integral, of a part she would play in those affairs. But I hadn't because I'd had faith that she could handle the expectations well enough on her own. And she was.

Since her brief lapse of vulnerability in the first floor washroom when she arrived, Norah had become the perfect picture of nobility, the daughter of a lower ranking member of the gentry courting a Marquess. When her sister arrived on the very same day that she did, she greeted her with a smile and a kiss on each cheek, tousling her nephew's hair and embracing her brother-in-law with a familiarity that had me feeling foolishly envious. But I brushed it aside and shook the man's hand with a smile and a welcome of my own.

The Collins and the Watts shared a suite on the second floor of the estate, opposite my family's own set of suites. They had a sizable sitting room which split off into four different bedrooms, one for Norah, one for her parents, one for her sister and brother, and one for their son. Grace and I currently occupied the same suite mirrored on the other side, though ours was slightly larger and far more elaborately decorated. Her family would be arriving soon to share her room and occupy another as well. But until then, it was just us.

We had dinner that evening, an informal affair in which I was introduced to Finnley and Natalie, as well as their little boy Bernard. I restated my pleasure at seeing Lord and Lady Collins again as well and sat opposite from Norah who engaged both her sister and mine in conversation all evening while I spoke mainly to Lord Collins and Lord Watt, answering Lady Collins whenever it suited her to press in for a question or two. Norah and I made eye contact a few times throughout the evening and I hoped the simple smiles I sent her way were as encouraging as I hoped they were.

And the next day, the first official day of the week of events, when everyone arrived, Norah greeted them at my side with Grace, smiling primly and welcoming them pleasantly as though she were a hostess herself. Some of them seemed so stunned by her abrupt change in attitude that they hesitated at the door, creating a standstill behind them in the line as they halted to gape at Norah and her newfound manners. I snorted every time it happened, earning an elbow in the ribs from Norah and a knowing glance from Grace.

I did feel it, the guilt. Every time Grace watched us interact, every time she smiled knowingly at me, I felt it. It would hurt her too, when we told her. That hadn't been the intention. In truth, I hadn't thought much about it when we had made this arrangement much like it seemed Norah hadn't. I hadn't expected Grace to become attached to the girl, to truly start imagining my future with her so quickly. She had even mentioned the possibility of a betrothal to me. Just a few days before the annual gathering was set to begin, when we were thoroughly in the thick of things with our planning. She had made mention of the ball that we were holding at the end of the week, a final goodbye to our guests and a reminder as they returned to the rest of the season. It was set to be beautiful, far more lovely than even the ball we had thrown at Wentworth. And Norah had claimed that it would be a lovely time for a couple to announce their betrothal while holding my gaze and smiling my way. I had been so surprised that I had dropped the vase I was holding for her flower arrangement and it had shattered on the marble, servants rushing forward to clean the mess as I gaped openly at my grinning sister.

Betrothal. It had only been a few weeks and they were already thinking about the possibility of marriage. I had truly forgotten just how thoroughly the gentry lost their minds during the season. And now I knew, though Norah hadn't told me, that her mother must have mentioned the same. If Grace had brought it up, I felt certain that Lady Collins had no qualms in entertaining the idea as well. And suddenly, Norah's pure panic in the washroom on the day of her arrival made total sense.

"I'm not going to ask you to marry me," I told her underneath my breath as we waited arm in arm before a large set of double doors beyond which was the dining hall and the massive tables arranged within it where most of the gentry whom had arrived this day were seated and waiting for us to join them.

She snorted, grinning from ear to ear in the first genuine smile I'd seen on her face since her sister arrived.

"I should hope not," she answered and I couldn't help but smirk myself as I nodded to the servants and they opened the doors for us.

We entered to a standing ovation as every member of the gentry stood, clapping and smiling our way. I led Norah into the room, nodding and waving as we passed, and guided her to the table set at the front of the room, where our families were already seated. I took the seat beside Grace who was already lost in conversation with Natalie on her other side, and helped Norah pull out the chair beside me. When she sat, I reached for my glass and remained standing, lifting the goblet and the wine within it as I looked out at the gathered nobility.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have the great honor of welcoming you to the fifteenth annual Rayfield Week of Respite here at Southill Park," I announced and was met with applause. "It is our great hope that you have the opportunity to take a break from the pressures of society this week as you lounge about our estate and engage in hunts and various games designed to relieve your tension and remind you of what this season is about. Love and life. With that, I would like to extend a very special welcome to my exquisite guest of honor, Miss Norah Collins, and her family. I am delighted to have them here and hope they, and you, have the time of your lives this week. So please, don't wait a moment longer. Let's eat!"

Everyone cheered when I had finished. I took a bow, smiling, and sat. Grace reached out to squeeze my hand, a silent accommodation from a sister. I nodded my head slightly in thanks before turning to Norah. She was focused entirely on the food on her plate.

"What is this?" She asked, poking a clam with her fork.

"It's a clam," I explained with a smile. "We're much closer to the sea here. Have you never had one?"

"I wouldn't know how to go about it."

And so I set to showing Norah how to fetch the meat from a claim, prying open the shell and using her dainty fork to scrape it out and taste. I fed her the first bite myself to a chorus of oohs and ahs from the invasive preening mothers of the gentry. She smiled at the effect of our actions and I shot her a wink before turning back to my own plate.

It was customary for members of the gentry to approach our table as we ate, thank us for the invitation, express their excitement for the upcoming week, and wish us well. Because of that, it took us twice as long to eat as everyone else and, once we had finished, I clapped my hands and the servants appeared, ready to remove the plates and push the tables against the walls so the dancing could begin. I turned to Norah as the scraping of the wood filled the air and the musicians readied themselves. I held out a hand.

"You never learn, do you?" She asked, shaking her head with a grin and taking my hand. She lowered her voice as we rose and stepped out from behind the table. "I'm a wretched dancer."

"So I'll lead," I told her simply. "Do you know the modern waltzes?"

Her eyes snapped to mine and then drifted away to the nobility standing around us, staring, waiting to see what we would do, how we would begin the dancing.

"Those are... close," she said a moment later, eying me with discomfort. I smirked back at her.

"You might have to touch me for this one, Miss Collins," I informed her.

Her cheeks tinged pink but she gave a determined nod and stepped in closer to me. The moment she did, the faint scent of lilac and mint filled my nose. I breathed it in before realizing I was. She just watched me, curiously, her head cocked slightly to the side, displaying her elegant neck. She blinked her blue eyes up at me, auburn hair falling delicately around her face. My breath hitched but I hid it by striking up the band and, as the music began to play, I pulled her in close and swayed.

At first, the gentry stood around staring at us in awe and whispering to one another. But this was what Grace and I had discussed before, as part of our plans for this week. Modernizing society, bringing them into the new century. If this week was truly about relaxation and respite, we had to open it up by showing them that it was acceptable to be more casual around one another, to set aside some of the propriety. Luckily, as I discovered about ten steps into our waltz, they were eager to oblige, wide grins splitting their faces as they found their own partners and swayed with the music.

It was a smashing, almost instantaneous success but I was having difficulty focusing on anything other than NorahCollins' body pressed tightly against mine. For a majority of the dance, it wasn't her whole body. Her hands remained on me but every now and then, her hips would brush mine, her skirts would skid along my legs, even her chest would rise and fall against mine in time with the music as we came together as a part of the dance. By the end of the first song, it was growing harder and harder to keep my wits about me. So I was more relieved than I cared to admit when the band struck up a livelier tune and the bodies on the floor gave some merciful distance to take up the new dance. We danced that one as well, leading the charge as we spun around the others and came back together time and time again. Norah was smiling by the end of it, an exhilarated, wild grin that caused my chest to constrict with something unidentifiable.

After four songs and just as many dances, Norah requested a break so I led her gently off of the dance floor and toward the refreshments table where Grace was already waiting, chatting with Natalie once again as though the two of them had already become inseparable. They both smiled at us as we approached and I saw Norah's shoulders drop at the sight of it. My own grin faltered slightly as well. Because I saw the way they were looking at us. The glistening in their eyes, the smiles curling their lips, the hope in their expressions. Hope for a future. Hope for my future. And Norah was in it.

My little brother, in love.

I came to a screeching halt right in the middle of the ballroom. Grace's smile faltered slightly as she furrowed her brow and cocked her head in question but I turned away from her, facing the dancefloor again, watching the couples spinning and laughing. All of this was fake, between Norah and I, it was part of a ruse. None of it was real. And yet, the way I had felt on that dancefloor, the way I had been feeling for weeks now, that was undeniably, unquestionably, real.

No.

The way it had felt to touch her. The way my every nerve was on fire, my very being on edge. How I had been hyper aware of every touch between us, every time her skirt brushed my leg, every time her hip skidded against my own, colliding into me because she had been right. She was a frightful dancer. But I didn't mind. In fact, I found it quite adorable. I found everything about her utterly intoxicating. From her generally sour attitude regarding society and everything it stood for to the way she smelled. I wouldn't change her, not one part of her, for anything in the world. Maybe that was why I had offered her this deal in the first place. Not to save my own ass with the accounts, though I'd certainly needed that as well. But to defend the person she wanted to be, give her the space to become it, and to have an excuse to get closer to her all the while.

No.

But it was the truth, wasn't it? We could tell everyone else in this room that it was a lie. But I knew, deep down, that it never had been. At least, not for me.

"Kyrie?" Grace's soft, prodding voice interrupted my thoughts and I whirled to find all three women watching me, Norahholding a glass of wine poised halfway to her mouth.

I should have told her. I should have pulled her away from there, out of that room. I should have found somewhere private for us to speak and confessed my burgeoning feelings. It would have been the right thing to do. But instead, I let my gaze dart down to those pouty lips hovering over the edge of her glass just once before making my escape.

"Excuse me," I blurted so suddenly that Grace flinched.

Then I turned on my heel and made a mad dash toward my friends locked in conversation on the other end of the room like the coward I was.