The day of their journey arrived. Adrian and Evelyne boarded the train in the Sinclair family's private compartment — a luxurious VIP room complete with plush velvet seats and gold-accented windows. The train hummed gently as it glided through the countryside, the rhythm of the motion almost hypnotic.
Both of them tried to bury themselves in their personal thoughts. Adrian settled in with his newspaper, the crisp pages rustling under his fingertips, while Evelyne tried to focus on her poetry book. Yet neither of them could concentrate for long. The tension between them was thick, like an invisible thread pulling their attention back to each other, even though neither dared to speak. Evelyne's thoughts often drifted to Cassandra, the mysterious woman from the museum, and the confusing feelings that had followed their encounter. Adrian seemed completely unaffected, but Evelyne could feel his eyes occasionally flicker over to her.
After a long stretch of uncomfortable silence, Adrian glanced up from his paper. "Would you like some coffee?" he asked, his voice breaking the stillness.
Evelyne looked up, her gaze meeting his. She hesitated for a moment. "No, thank you. I'm fine."
Adrian nodded, though a flicker of uncertainty passed through his eyes. He pushed the train's heavy door open, stepping out into the bar area where they served refreshments. Evelyne's gaze followed him briefly, and she noticed a shift in the air, an almost palpable unease that filled the space between them. She sighed and returned to her book, trying her best to ignore the tight knot in her stomach.
• The Train Bar – A Friendly Stranger
The bar was warm and lively, filled with the low murmur of conversation and the clinking of porcelain cups. Adrian ordered two coffees from the waitress, taking a few steps back to wait.
As he did, a friendly voice spoke up beside him.
"Coffee is a lifesaver on these long trips, isn't it?"
Adrian turned slightly to find a young man leaning casually against the polished bar. He was striking — golden-blond hair that caught the overhead light, warm hazel eyes filled with a quiet, approachable kindness. He wore an aristocratic suit in lighter tones, and a subtle family ring glinted on his finger.
Adrian gave a polite nod. "It certainly helps."
The young nobleman smiled. "Traveling for the polo match, I assume?"
"Yes," Adrian replied simply.
The man chuckled. "Not really my thing. I'm headed there for... other reasons. Someone important I want to see. A childhood friend."
His voice softened slightly, but he didn't elaborate, and Adrian, never one to pry into strangers' business, simply nodded again.
The waitress returned with Adrian's order. With a polite goodbye, he took the coffees and made his way back to the private room.
• VIP Compartment
Adrian slid the door of their private cabin closed behind him, balancing two porcelain cups carefully.
Without a word, Adrian set one cup gently on the small table in front of her.
"I brought one for you anyway," he said, not meeting her eyes, his voice quieter than usual. "Just in case you changed your mind."
Evelyne blinked, momentarily caught off guard. She hesitated, then reached out to take the warm cup in her hands. The rich aroma of roasted coffee curled into the air between them.
"Thank you," she said softly, unable to hide the surprise in her voice.
Adrian gave a small nod and sat down across from her again, lifting his own cup. He pretended to turn his attention back to the newspaper he had abandoned earlier, but Evelyne noticed how he shifted awkwardly in his seat, how he kept stealing quick glances at her over the rim of his cup.
For a moment, the tension between them eased — not gone, but thinner, like a mist before the morning sun.
Evelyne wrapped her hands around the cup, grateful for the warmth. Still, her mind couldn't shake the lingering doubt: Did Adrian see Cassandra back there? Did they talk?
She sipped her coffee, savoring its bittersweet taste, even as unease settled heavily in her chest.
Outside, the train continued its rhythmic journey toward the unknowns waiting for them in the city ahead.
• The Train Encounter
Meanwhile, Evelyne had been fidgeting restlessly in her seat. After a few moments, she decided she needed a brief escape to clear her head.
"I'll just freshen up," she murmured to herself, standing and adjusting her shawl.
She made her way toward the restrooms, the gentle sway of the train under her feet. But just as she approached the corridor, she froze.
Standing near the restroom entrance — as vivid and unmistakable as a painted portrait — was Cassandra.
The last person Evelyne wanted to see.
Cassandra looked stunning in a traveling dress of deep emerald, her scarlet-brown hair cascading in perfect waves over her shoulders. She was speaking softly to another lady, her laughter light and silvery.
Panic fluttered in Evelyne's chest. Without thinking, she turned sharply on her heel and hurried back to the private room.
She slid the door closed behind her and sat down quickly.
Adrian looked up from his seat, his brows pulling together slightly. "Back so soon?" he asked.
"The queue was too long," Evelyne answered briskly, her cheeks warm. She busied herself by adjusting her skirts, hoping he wouldn't see through her excuse.
As Adrian returned to his paper and Evelyne stared blindly at her book, her mind churned uneasily.
Did Adrian meet her?
Did they talk while he was getting coffee?
Did Cassandra smile at him the way she smiled at everyone else — or something more?
The questions gnawed at her, no matter how hard she tried to push them away.
Outside the window, the countryside rolled on, uncaring.
• Arrival at the City – Evening
The sun had dipped low into the horizon by the time their train rolled into the city. A golden hue painted the cobblestone streets, and gas lamps flickered to life one by one.
Evelyne kept her gaze firmly on her gloves as they stepped down onto the platform, determined not to let her eyes wander — determined not to catch sight of a certain scarlet-haired lady again.
Thankfully, Cassandra was nowhere to be seen.
A waiting carriage bearing the Sinclair family crest was already at the station. The driver quickly secured their luggage and ushered them inside with the kind of brisk, respectful efficiency reserved for noble guests.
The carriage ride was short, but every clatter of the wheels against the stones seemed louder than it should have been. Inside, Evelyne and Adrian sat side by side in silence, each trying very hard to look as though they were entirely comfortable — and each failing miserably.
Scene : The Hotel
When they reached the grand hotel — a towering structure of white stone and gold trimmings — Evelyne swallowed her nervousness. Bellboys in sharp uniforms rushed to assist them, ushering them inside.
The lobby glittered under the glow of an enormous crystal chandelier. Check-in was swift, and a bellboy escorted them to their room on the third floor.
• The Suite Room
The door swung open to reveal a lavishly decorated space: a sitting room with plush armchairs, an ornate writing desk, and a grand bedroom beyond, separated only by heavy velvet curtains. A large bed stood proudly at the center of the room, draped in cream and gold.
Evelyne clutched her reticule tighter, feeling her heart pound against her ribs.
Adrian's expression was unreadable as he handed a coin to the bellboy and dismissed him.
As the door closed behind them, an awkward silence bloomed thick and suffocating.
"We'll... make do," Adrian said finally, his voice low and a little rough. He moved stiffly toward his own luggage, placed discreetly near the sitting area, while Evelyne hurried to hers..
Evelyne set down her handbag and moved quickly to her trunk, eager to distract herself. She knelt and opened the lid — and instantly wished she hadn't.
Right on top of her belongings, laid carefully by the maid who had helped pack her things, was her pale silk sleeping gown — delicate, flowing, and unmistakably intimate.
She gasped softly, trying to shove it deeper into the trunk — but not before Adrian, who had been placing his coat over the couch, caught a glimpse.
There was a flicker in his eyes — something heated and swiftly suppressed —
From the corner of her eye, she saw Adrian glance over — just for a second —There was a flicker in his eyes — something heated and swiftly suppressed — and immediately jerk his gaze away. His posture stiffened, and he turned his back on her with a deliberate cough, pretending to inspect the view from the window.
But even as he looked out over the city skyline, his mind betrayed him — unspooling vivid, traitorous images that he tried furiously to banish.
"I'll take the couch," Adrian said abruptly, his voice a little gruff.
Evelyne straightened, her cheeks flaming, and nodded quickly without looking at him. "Thank you."
She heard the rustle of him removing his jacket, the creak of the couch as he tested it for comfort. Meanwhile, she hurried to place her nightdress and other items out of sight, her hands trembling slightly.
The room, though lovely, suddenly felt far too small.
Outside, the city lights sparkled against the evening mist, but inside, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken emotions — uncertainty, embarrassment, and something else neither dared to name.
They were husband and wife in name.
But tonight, with the bed looming between them and the distance of propriety teetering on a knife's edge, that truth felt heavier than ever.