Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Bond Street, the next day
George adjusted his gloves as his carriage drew to a stop outside Sarah's family townhouse, his stomach tight with an emotion he refused to name.
He'd spent a restless night wrestling with the implications of yesterday's conversation, and the cold light of morning had brought no relief from the uncomfortable truth that had settled in his chest like a stone.
He was in love with Lady Sarah Abbottsford.
The realization shouldn't have surprised him—looking back, he could trace the progression of his feelings over the years, from protective fondness to something far more dangerous.
But he'd been so careful to keep those feelings buried beneath the safe facade of friendship that even he had managed to fool himself. He was too young to marry. Too young to know his mind… That’s what all his friends would say.
No one wanted to be leg shackled when they were young. Men should sow their wild oats.
He was sick of sowing.
Up till yesterday he thought he had all the time in the world. Until she'd spoken of Castleton with such breathless admiration, and George had felt something crack inside his chest.
The door opened, and Sarah emerged in a flurry of deep blue wool and nervous energy, her blonde curls escaping from beneath her bonnet in the way that always made his fingers itch to smooth them back.
She was beautiful—not in the dramatic way that turned heads at balls, but in a quiet, genuine way that grew more compelling the longer one looked.
Which was precisely the problem, George reflected grimly. He'd been looking for years.
But it would appear, not seeing. And now it was too late. She was falling for another man.
“Good morning,” she said, settling herself across from him with a bright smile that made his heart perform an unwelcome somersault. “Thank you again for doing this, George. I confess I barely slept a wink for thinking of all the possibilities.”
As did I, George thought, though his sleeplessness was from entirely different reasons. Improper reasons. “It's my pleasure,” he said aloud, his voice carefully controlled. “Have you given any more thought to what sort of gift might be appropriate?”
Sarah clasped her hands together, her eyes bright with excitement. “I've been making lists, actually. Something personal enough to show I've been thinking of him, but not so personal as to be improper. Perhaps something for his study? A fine pen set, or maybe a leather-bound book of poetry?”
George nodded, trying to ignore the way her enthusiasm for another man felt like a physical blow. “Both sensible suggestions. Castleton strikes me as the sort of gentleman who would appreciate quality craftsmanship.”
“Oh, you know him well?” Sarah leaned forward eagerly, and George caught a hint of her lavender perfume—the same scent she'd worn for years, so familiar it felt like coming home.
“We move in some of the same circles,” George said carefully. He knew Castleton well enough to have serious reservations about the man's character, but how could he voice such concerns without sounding like a jealous fool? “He seems... charming enough.”
Something in his tone must have alerted her, because Sarah's brow furrowed slightly. “You don't sound entirely convinced.”
George cursed silently. This was precisely why he should have declined to help her. How was he supposed to assist Sarah in winning the affections of a man he neither trusted nor wanted her to marry, all while pretending his own heart wasn't breaking in the process?
“I simply want you to be careful,” he said finally. “You have such a generous heart, Sarah. I'd hate to see it taken advantage of.”
Her expression softened, and she reached across the carriage to touch his gloved hand briefly. The contact sent a shock of warmth up his arm that he felt all the way to his toes.
“You're so protective,” she said fondly. “Like another brother, truly. But I'm not entirely naive, you know. I can tell the difference between genuine regard and mere flattery.”
Brother. The word hit him like a physical blow, and George had to look out the window to hide his reaction.
A brother. Of course, that's how she saw him—how else would she see him?
He'd been part of her life for so long, had been so careful to never cross the line between friendship and something more, that he'd become as fixed in her mind as family.
“Of course you can,” he managed, his voice rougher than he'd intended. “I didn't mean to suggest otherwise.”
The carriage turned onto Bond Street, and George welcomed the distraction of the bustling shopping district. Perhaps if he focused on the task at hand, he could get through this morning without making a complete fool of himself.
“Oh, look at all the shops!” Sarah pressed her face to the window like an excited child, and despite his inner turmoil, George couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. “Where shall we start?”
“Perhaps Rundell and Bridge?” George suggested, indicating the famous jewelers. “They have an excellent selection of gentleman's accessories that might suit your purpose.”
They alighted from the carriage, and George offered Sarah his arm, trying to ignore the way her fingers curled trustingly around his forearm.
The December air was crisp and cold, their breath creating small puffs of vapor as they walked.
Bond Street was bustling with last-minute Christmas shoppers, the shop windows decorated with festive greenery and ribbons.
“It's rather magical, isn't it?” Sarah said, her eyes bright with wonder as she took in the holiday displays.
“Christmas in London has such a different feeling than in the country. All this energy and excitement... But father wanted to be here. Some of the lords are still working on some new Act they wish passed when Parliament recommences.”
“That is why I’m still here. The Criminal Libel Act. I feel it’s vital to protect our political stability.”
She glanced up at him with admiration. “I love how you take your role in the House of Lords seriously. You’re a fine man. But it will be my first Christmas in London in a long time.”
“You prefer the country celebrations, I take it?” George asked, filing away this small piece of information about her preferences as he always did, though God knew why he tortured himself with such details.
“Generally, yes. There's something so intimate about gathering around the fire with people you love, sharing stories and gifts chosen with real thought...” She paused, blushing. “Listen to me, getting sentimental over Christmas traditions. You must think me terribly provincial.”
“I think you're exactly right,” George said quietly, meaning it. “The best celebrations are the ones that come from the heart.”
Sarah glanced up at him with surprise, and for a moment, their eyes met and held. George felt his pulse quicken at the softness in her gaze, the way her lips parted slightly as if she were about to say something important.
Then she seemed to shake herself and looked away, her cheeks pink from more than just the cold air.
“Shall we go in?” she asked, gesturing toward Rundell and Bridge's imposing storefront.
The interior of the jewelers was warm and hushed, the display cases glittering with diamonds and gold. A well-dressed clerk approached them immediately, his practiced eye taking in George's fine clothing and obvious wealth.
“Good morning, my lord. How may we assist you today?”
“The lady is looking for a gentleman's gift,” George explained. “Something elegant but appropriate for... an acquaintance.”
“A close acquaintance,” Sarah added much to George’s dismay.
The clerk's expression brightened with understanding. “Of course. Perhaps some cufflinks? We have some lovely pieces in gold and silver, some with gemstone accents...”
Sarah moved to the indicated case, her expression thoughtful as she examined the offerings.
George watched her profile as she studied each piece, noting the way she bit her lower lip when concentrating—a habit he'd observed countless times over the years without truly appreciating how endearing it was.
“These are beautiful,” she murmured, pointing to a set of gold cufflinks with small sapphires. “But perhaps too elaborate? I wouldn't want him to think I was being presumptuous...”
“They're quite tasteful, actually,” George said, though the words felt like ash in his mouth. “Any gentleman would be honored to receive such a thoughtful gift.”
Sarah's face lit up with pleasure at his approval, and George felt his heart twist with the bitter irony of the situation. Here he was, helping the woman he loved choose a gift for another man, and she was practically glowing with happiness at his assistance.
“What about these?” Sarah had moved to another case, where a set of silver cufflinks caught the light. They were simpler but elegantly designed, with a subtle engraving that suggested quality without ostentation.
“An excellent choice,” the clerk enthused. “Very sophisticated. The gentleman would wear these to the finest occasions.”
George could see Sarah wavering, her practical nature warring with her desire to make an impression.
He knew he should encourage her toward the simpler option—it was more appropriate for someone she'd known such a short time—but the words wouldn't come.
The sight of her agonizing over the perfect gift for Castleton was torture enough without actively facilitating it.
“I think...” Sarah began, then stopped, her hands fluttering nervously. “Oh, I simply can't decide! George, what do you think? The gold or the silver?”
The question hung between them, and George realized with a crushing sense of inevitability that this was his choice: he could guide her toward the more appropriate gift and maintain some semblance of propriety, or he could remain silent and let her follow her heart, even if it led her away from him.
“The gold,” he heard himself say, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his chest. “If this gift truly matters to you, Sarah, then choose the one that feels right, not the one that's merely safe.”
Her smile was radiant, transforming her entire face with its brilliance.
“You always know exactly what to say. Yes, the gold ones, please,” she said to the clerk, then turned back to George.
“Thank you. I know they're rather expensive, but I have some pin money saved, and if this helps Lord Castleton see me as more than just another acquaintance...”
She trailed off, but George understood. The gift wasn't just about Christmas generosity—it was a declaration, a carefully calculated risk designed to advance her cause with Castleton. The thought made his stomach churn, but he managed to keep his expression neutral.
“I'm sure he'll be very touched by your thoughtfulness,” he said, the lie burning his tongue.
As the clerk wrapped the cufflinks in fine paper and ribbon, Sarah chatted excitedly about the Christmas gathering at Castleton's family townhouse.
She described the other guests she expected to meet, the festivities that had been planned, the elegant dinners and card games and musical entertainments.
With each word, George felt the distance between them growing, as if she were already moving into a world where he didn't belong.
“It sounds like it will be a memorable celebration,” he managed when she paused for breath.
“I do hope so,” Sarah said softly, her eyes dreamy.
“I keep imagining what it will be like—being part of such a sophisticated gathering, meeting his family, perhaps having some quiet moments to talk with Lord Castleton himself.
.. Oh, George, do you think it's foolish of me to hope that this might be the beginning of something wonderful?”
The question was asked with such innocent vulnerability that George felt something break inside his chest. She was looking at him with complete trust, expecting him to share in her excitement, to offer the reassurance and support he'd always provided.
And he would, because that's what friends did, even when it destroyed them.
“I think,” he said carefully, “that you deserve every happiness, Sarah. And if Castleton can't see what a remarkable woman you are, then he's not worthy of you.”
It wasn't quite a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.
George knew exactly how remarkable Sarah was—had known it for years.
The tragedy was that she was so focused on the glittering promise of a man like Castleton that she couldn't see the steadier, deeper devotion that had been right beside her all along.
And he only had himself to blame for that. He should have be wooing her himself instead of hiding behind Sarah’s friendship with his sister. If he could, he’d kick himself in the arse.
They emerged from the jewelers into the crisp December air, Sarah clutching her carefully wrapped package with obvious satisfaction. Her cheeks were flushed with cold and excitement, her eyes bright with anticipation, and George thought he'd never seen her look more beautiful or more unreachable.
“Shall we stop for some hot chocolate?” he suggested, wanting to prolong their time together despite the torture of it. “The weather's turning quite bitter.”
“That sounds lovely,” Sarah agreed, tucking her free hand into the crook of his arm. “You've been so wonderful about this, George. I don't know what I would have done without your help.”
You would have managed perfectly well, George thought grimly. You always do. But aloud he only said, “What are friends for?”
As they walked toward a nearby coffeehouse, George caught sight of their reflection in a shop window—a tall, well-dressed gentleman escorting a lovely young lady, their heads bent together in intimate conversation.
To any observer, they would look like a couple, perhaps discussing their own Christmas plans or their future together.
If only it were true.
Instead, George was helping the woman he loved plan her courtship of another man, all while pretending his heart wasn't breaking with every step.
He'd set himself an impossible task: to be Sarah's friend and confidant while watching her slip away from him, to smile and offer advice while his own chances of happiness crumbled to dust.
But what choice did he have? Sarah's happiness mattered more than his own—it always had. If Castleton could give her the fairy-tale romance she dreamed of, then George would step aside with as much grace as he could manage.
Even if it killed him.