With the ignorance of a thousand generations of men before him, Nate clambered into the carriage after his fiance. What had he done?  The carriage ride was bouncy but the cushions firm enough to soften the blows. She clarified, he was to be on her arm as her property, a living, breathing, accessory to fashion. Well, from how she looked coming down those stairs, he wasn't so saddened by the prospect. Nate nodded at her questions - or that might have been the jostling of the carriage. The confined space was enhanced by her fragrance.

After a fashion, she asked about his day. A suitable conversation topic for a wife. Wait, there it was! The aborted syllable of his first name.  The wisdom of a thousand generations of Adam was abruptly made clear to him. She was being cold to him, for no particular reason.  Nate chewed on his lip as he pondered. Well...

Was it that kiss the other day?

That'd do it.

If she had wanted to wait until their wedding day to be so passionate, she shouldn't have looked so stunning. She should have worn a potato sack... No, wait!

Entirely her fault. It would be entirely her fault again tonight if he kissed her because she looked so yummy.

"My day was not out of the ordinary, Miss Mason. Thank you for asking.  Yours?"