Norman blinked, caught off-guard. “Sisters?”
“Of course,” Eleanor said with a shrug. “Once you’re married.”
Married. The word landed like a blow. In his single-minded focus on duty and damage control, Norman had forgotten this simple truth— Kitty wouldn’t just be his wife. She’d be Eleanor’s sister.
Christ. His lips parted, an objection half-formed on his tongue—some sharp retort about meddling—when his mind caught on the image of Kitty laughing with Eleanor over tea, Kitty defending his sister from society’s vipers, Kitty’s steadying presence when his own responsibilities kept him absent.
The realization struck him with uncomfortable clarity—he’d been so busy calculating how this marriage would serve him, he hadn’t considered how it might bless Eleanor.
A loud crack shattered the moment.
He bolted upright. “Stop the carriage!”
The driver reined in the horses, and Norman threw open the door, leaping out before the wheels had fully settled. The air was sharp and damp, the sky gray with threatening clouds.
Behind him, Eleanor called, “Wait for me!”
Norman didn’t wait. He rounded the side of his carriage and spotted the problem immediately. Kitty’s carriage had veered slightly off the road, the left wheel sunken into thick, wet mud. The wooden rim was splintered, the wheel clearly cracked beneath the pressure.
The coachman was dismounting, muttering under his breath, while Richard stood outside the door with a furrowed brow.
Norman pushed past, his heart thudding harder than it should have. “Is everyone unharmed?”
Kitty emerged from the carriage with all the reluctant dignity of a queen forced into a farmer’s field. Her skirt was lifted delicately above the mud, her eyes already narrowed at the situation.
“We’re unharmed,” Richard answered. “But the wheel’s done for.”
“It was the road,” Jane added, stepping carefully beside Kitty. “Too narrow.”
Eleanor arrived then, her cheeks flushed and her hair slightly askew from her hurried descent. “Oh my! That looks awful.”
Norman moved closer to the damaged wheel, assessing the situation. Beyond repair in the field, that much was certain. He turned back to the small gathering.
“There’s no use trying to fix it here. I’ll send a man to take care of the wheel and bring the carriage back to town. In the meantime, the only option is for all of you to travel in mine.”
Kitty’s eyes flared. “Your carriage is not large enough.”
“It will suffice,” Norman said shortly.
“It will be cramped and uncomfortable,” she countered.
Before she could dig in further, Eleanor clasped her hands together. “Oh, how wonderful! We can all be together. I’ve wanted to get to know you more, Kitty. This is perfect.”
Kitty blinked, momentarily silenced by Eleanor’s uncontained enthusiasm.
Norman seized the opportunity. “Very well. Inside, everyone.”
He ushered them back toward his carriage. The seating arrangement became something of a comic ballet—Eleanor and Jane settled on one side, adjusting skirts and giggling at the awkwardness. Kitty ended up between Richard and Norman on the opposite side, her back ramrod straight, clearly trying not to breathe.
Richard exhaled with exaggerated weariness. “Well, this is cozy. Like five pigs in a barrel.”
The women laughed, even Kitty offered a reluctant smile. Norman didn’t. He was very aware of the warmth of Kitty’s body pressing lightly against his side, the way her arm brushed his every time the carriage hit a bump.
He stared at the window, not seeing the countryside. His mind was a knot of confusion and discomfort—not from the space, but from how much he didn’t hate it.
He shouldn’t be enjoying this. The closeness. The laughter. The way Eleanor and Kitty had launched into conversation like old school friends.
“I think your gown is absolutely stunning,” Eleanor said.
