"It's because of her, isn't it?" Camille says bitterly. Her facade of being the smiling, pleasant girl next door is completely shattered. "I saw you last night, this morning. All week. All the time. Watching her. And I knew. I've been on tender hooks all day, knowing this was coming because I was going home."

I suppress a groan at her last sentence and try to focus on why we're here. "No, it's not.. just Lilly, I knew it before she came. We're just...You and I...not...we're not looking for the same things." I say finally after stumbling and trying to find the right words "I'm sorry, Camille." My tone apologetic, but resolute.

I’ve brought her to catch her train back to London. It's been the most excruciating week. Lilly asked me to wait for everyone to leave to tell her. I agreed. Camille had booked her cottage for the entire week. And maybe I was a chicken shit, but it was just one less piece of drama to deal with.

I shiver despite the heat pumping from my car's heater because the windows are down. I’ve just told her that things aren’t going to work out, and she stares at me dumbfounded before she finally responds.

"What are you looking for? I thought you were looking for a relationship,” she asks. Disappointment, frustration, annoyance all apparent in her tone.

"Then you were wrong. I wasn't looking for a relationship. Freya would like me to be in a relationship and she's overzealous about hooking me up with people, but that is not what I'm looking for." I'm speaking frankly, but I don't want to give her to blame this on Lilly.

"Oh, I see. This just an escape ghost so you can have all of the wild sex and drama that girl must come with. I thought you'd grown out of that stage, Harry." Her words drip with scorn.

I stare at her in bewilderment. "What? None of that even made any sense, Camille." I mimic her use of my name.

"Well, every man goes through that stage. But you're too old for that. You're in your thirties, you should--" she continues as if I hadn't spoken and my ire grows.

"How old are you, Camille?" I interrupt her.

"I'm twenty-nine." She says defensively as if I asked to see her bank balance.

"I'm thirty-three. We should know that about each other. We've know each other for a month, and there's so much we don't know about each other."

"Who cares?" She shrieks, tossing her head, her hair flying

I lean away from her in alarm.

"We know the important things. We both come from good families. You need a wife who will help you manage the Earldom. You need someone who knows the village and understands the people. You need someone who's going to help you set an example. Who'll bring leaderism and pride back to this seat. You're a bloody Viscount. You shouldn't be drinking in local pubs and making deliveries to the estate stores. And you certainly can't bring that...that..." She is yelling now, her hands waving, spittle flying as she sputters to find a word sufficiently base to describe Lilly.

"Don't finish that sentence." I warn her, my voice low and quiet. I unlock the car doors.

"Or what? What are you going to do, push me out?" She taunts and I feel like I've been hit in the head by a two by four. I wouldn't have believed in a million years that Camille would act like such a petulant asshole.

"Listen, maybe you had too much wine. Or maybe you're disappointed. Either way, this is done. Since you clearly don't like me very much, this should come as a relief. Get out of my car. Now." I say, staring straight ahead, unable to even look at her.

"And you're supposably a gentleman." She sneers at me, not making any signs of getting out. "I heard all about how Zara collarded you. If this is how you behaved, no wonder she went looking for better company."

All of my resolve to be decent, to let her down easily disappears at her cruel taunt.

"It's supposedly, you idiot." I say dryly, unkindly. But, I’m beyond the point of caring now. “And cuckolded. And tenterhooks, and scape goats." I recite angrily. "So, what if she cheated on me? That isn't a reflection of my character or my shortcoming. But you, God...you're a complete idiot."

Her eyes widen and she gapes at me like I've suddenly turned into a kangaroo. "And I ride with the windows down because your breath smells like a skunk died in your throat. Go to the fucking dentist." I curl my lip in disgust and she clamps a hand over her mouth and grapples for the door handle.

"You bastard." Her curse is muffled and if she wasn't so abhorrent I would laugh.

"Exactly. Get out of my car." She opens the door and starts to get down but I stop her. "One more thing, I know you're friends with my sister, so our paths are going to cross. Please practice your poker face because every time you see me, you’ll see her.

She gasps, she stares at me as she climbs down from the car. "You wouldn't. She's not one of us. You can't." Her cry is full of despair.

I reach across and grab the door handle and just before I pull it shut in her face, I say "watch me."