The sun was setting, painting the sky in deep shades of orange as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Eric's private residence. The long, emotionally draining day at the Carson estate was finally over. Delia, weary to her bones, was about to open the carriage door and retreat into the quiet of the house.
But before she could move, Eric's hand gently closed around her wrist. She turned and saw that his face was full of a sad, quiet regret.
"Are you angry at me?" he asked, his voice low.
Delia looked at him, confused. "Why would I be? Did you do something wrong?"
"I'm sorry I got into a fight with Philip," he said, his gaze fixed on their joined hands. "I shouldn't have lost my temper in front of everyone. In front of you."
