Chapter 14
Two days had passed since the ball, and yet, George could not stop thinking about it.
Even as he sat upon the picnic blanket in the park – at Walter's invitation – he wondered why he had attended.
After all, the only guests in attendance were Walter, Elizabeth, and the Flannery sisters, their servants close by. There was no need for his chaperoning here. He ought to have refused or even excused himself after only half an hour, yet he was almost carried away by the familiarity of it all.
The chattering and laughter of his friends all around him was enough to take him back to a better time.
He watched them all, listened to their stories, admired the affection between Elizabeth and Catherine as the elder braided the other's hair in an almost sisterly manner.
These were his friends, his people, and being amongst them once more made him feel something, made him feel younger, lighter even.
He smiled as he watched Walter offer Mary a flower, one which she pressed into the pages of the book she had been reading and promised she would treasure it always.
It was sweet, innocent, just as they had always been together. And George relaxed back on his hands, crossing his legs at the ankles as he stretched out to simply enjoy the moment.
There had been very little of this feeling since he had become duke, since he had returned home to all his new responsibilities.
And he wished to cherish it.
That was, until Lady Cecelia produced a handkerchief from the picnic basket and suggested, “Who might wish to partake in a game of blind man's bluff?”
The hair on the back of George's neck immediately rose on end. A shiver ran down his spine. His jaw clenched even as the others all expressed their delight at the idea.
When all eyes turned on him in his silence, he snarled, “I shall not partake.”
“Oh, come on, George,” Walter protested.
“Yes, Georgie, loosen up a little!” Elizabeth insisted, nudging him as she finished placing the last flower in Catherine's braid.
George's resolve only hardened.
“No,” he stated, rising from the blanket. “I need a walk.”
At the flabbergasted expressions on his friends' faces, he turned before any one of them could respond.
His friends called after him only once or twice before they seemed to return their attention to each other.
George felt little relief as he had only taken several steps before he heard her steps coming after him.
“Your Grace, wait! George!”
His heart skipped a beat. She hadn't called him that in such a long time.
A part of him desperately wanted to turn back, but he kept going.
“George! Please, stop!”
It was only once he had entered a secluded part of the park, surrounded by bushes, that he finally turned.
“You will never change, will you?” he demanded, and his words stopped Lady Cecelia in her tracks.
“I beg your pardon?” she responded, but his blood was boiling.
“You are the same as you have always been. Rebellious and grating and utterly determined towards some kind of scandal. I should have known better than to believe you could have changed. I actually believed you in the maze that day when you said you were innocent in all of it, but I can see you clearly now, Cecelia. You only wish to cause me hurt.”
Her rosy lips parted as if to speak. George braced himself for her usual stinging retorts, her anger at his being open with her, but none came.
Instead, she closed her mouth once more, her eyes losing some of their wideness as she seemed to deflate.
She pursed her lips, drew her hand from her skirts, and lifted a pale green silken handkerchief. “You dropped this.”
George looked from her to the handkerchief and back again.
He kicked himself, though he could not admit it.
Silently, he reached for the handkerchief.
Their fingers brushed for a mere moment as he took it from her, but it was enough to send a thrill through him.
Her expression was almost entirely unreadable, but he thought perhaps she looked a little confused.
He felt it too, for now he was torn between anger and the desperation he felt to go back in time, to return to believing she truly had changed, to tell her the entire truth of how he felt about her.
But he could not bring himself to do it, and instead, he watched her raise her hand to the heart-shaped pendant at her throat.
His stomach twisted as he recognized the gift he had given her at Christmas so many years ago.
The gold shimmered in the dappled sunlight as she fingered the pendant with a look of hurt simmering in her green gaze.
He opened his mouth to apologize, closed it again, and watched helplessly as she turned away to return to the others.
He reached out a hand, his fingers falling just shy of her wrist. And if she felt them, she did not react.
George's heart ached as she disappeared, leaving him isolated, broken.