"For all intensive purposes, I'm already running the foundation. But we have to wait for Lady Aston to step down before I can be institutioned.” Camille says.

I have to stop myself from correcting her. On a good day, Camille misuses words in a way that still let me discern her true meaning. On a bad day, I just nod or laugh when her word choices are so off that I have no clue what she's talking about.

Not only does Camille mispronounce and misuse words. Her breath also usually smells like she's been eating shit sandwiches.

It's why I've only kissed her once. It's also one of the myriad of reasons I know this relationship is a non-starter.

Only Freya’s enthusiasm for it have kept me from giving Camille her walking papers. I love my sister. I didn’t have anything to lose by just letting it run its course.

Until now. I’ve got feelings for Lilly. If she hadn't shown up who knows what might have happened. I might have married this woman. Though, after what I’d experienced with Lilly, it would feel like settling.

Now though, none of that matters. Lilly’s here and despite how angry I am at her, even if things don’t work out, I know that it's not fair to keep stringing Camille along. I’ll have to deal with Freya being angry at me.

“What the hell is that smell?" This comes from Lilly's boyfriend. It's about the tenth time he's asked since we've been the car. When he asked the first time, it was whisper that I think he only meant Lilly to hear. Now, he’s a few decibels short of a shout.

"I don't smell anything. And honestly my old factory nerves are very strong." Camille responds, emitting more of whatever noxious gas lives in her gut into the car.

I survive these car ride by riding with the windows down and just pretending that what she's saying makes sense. I’m desperate to put the windows down now, but Aiden seems to be in genuine distress over the smell. I like the idea of him suffering. I press the button on my armrest that locks all of the windows.

My discomfort seems a small price to pay to hear him sounding so put out. Maybe he'll be too sick to fuck Lilly tonight.

My stomach roils at the thought of his hands on her. When she rested her head on his shoulder tonight and closed her eyes as if she was tasting heaven, my mouth had gone dry. Any restraint on my anger had dried up like drops of water hitting a sizzling hot pavement. I knew she could see it, that they all could. I didn’t care.

That comfort should have been mine to give. Instead I was standing holding another woman's hand and watching the woman I want, lean on another man.

My stomach lurches and I can't bear the smell anymore. I roll the window down. My window. He can catch whiffs of air as they blow back if he's lucky enough.

His head appears in the space between my head rest and the rest of my seat as he gulps in the frigid but clean air coming in through my window. "Oh, thank God. There's something wrong with the other windows, they won't budge.” He sounds alarmed in between his huge inhales. Jesus. He’s dramatic. I want to elbow him in the face.

“You need to check your air conditioning system. Maybe someone you pissed off shoveled shite into your car because...ooof" he words are interrupted by a gasp of pain and then I hear Lilly whispering.

"Harry, I'm surprised you kept the windows up this long." Camille says and then with a look that I can only describe as smug, she turns around to say to Lilly and Aiden "He loves fresh air. He always has the window down when we're in the car." And then she pats my knee and says, "Isn't that right honey?"

A sound, very much like a choked laugh, comes from the backseat.

"What is so funny?" Aiden whispers. "Just remembering something Milly said.” Lilly whispers back.

Camille squeezes my leg to get my attention and when I glance at her she mouths through a frown "I think she's drunk."

I only shrug and pray the car ride from hell will be over soon.

In just a few minutes we're ambling up the lane towards Burn House. It's considered one of the greatest remaining houses of Elizabethan England and the approach never fails to steal my breath. Even after more than thirty years of making this drive, I am always in awe that this home, a national treasure is in my family's keeping. That my father's titles 8th Marquess of Exeter, 17th Earl Carlisle, and 18th Baron Burghley, will pass to me one day. Or that my title of the 15th Viscount of Greysmith will pass to my son one day.

If I manage to have a son.

The way things are going, I'm starting to doubt that’s in the cards.

"Harry, where are we going?" Camille asks and before I can enter she turns to the backseat to tell a hiccupping Lilly and a silently suffering Aiden that “I know this road like a house on fire."

I close my eyes as Lilly’s chokes on another laugh.

This whole evening has moved beyond the border of the absurd to being completely ridiculous.

"I'm taking them to the main house and then I'll take you back to the inn." I say with all of the patience and nonchalance that I don't feel.

"They're staying at Castle Burne?" Camille asks not bothering to hide her indignation.

"Yes, all of the bride's family is." I explain, feeling the patience starting to unravel.

"Oh, I didn't realize they were family. I thought Cara’s family was French." She says and it's so unbelievably rude that I don't respond. But Lilly's laughter ends abruptly and for the first time during our car ride I hazard a glance at her in my rearview mirror. She's glaring at the back of Camille's head and I can see her jaw working.

"Harry, did you hear me?" Camille whines.

I can only manage a very terse, "They are her family." I can hear the admonishment in my voice and feel her stiffen in her seat, probably angrier that I said in front of people than that I said it at all.

“I just wanted clarification, no need to be snippy,” she sniffs as she turns her head toward the window. At this point she's lucky I'm not screaming at her to shut up.

I shouldn’t have invited her. It's misleading. It will only make disentangling myself difficult.

We ride the rest of the way with only the noise my tires make as we moved steadily over the snow-covered ground.

We pull up to the house and I hear a “Thank God,” from Aiden. Before I can come to complete stop, he’s hopping out of the car. He stumbles a little as he makes a beeline for the front door.

"Thanks, Aiden. No, I don't need any help getting down." Lilly calls after him sarcastically as she exits the car.

"Thanks for the ride, Harry. Goodnight Camille,” she says softly and just as she gets out, her fingers graze my shoulder and my eyes meet hers in my side mirror. It's just a split second but I see the regret there. I catch a glimpse of the woman who let me see her at her most vulnerable when we made love to her. And then, she’s gone. I watch her walk up to house after the man who she’s chosen to give that to instead.