Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
There has been much scandal of late, but none quite as prolific as that caused by the Duke of Sherton.
Not only had he postponed his wedding the morning that it was to take place, but he had taken legal action against Lord Buxton.
Having left one Lady Cassandra Burrow in disgrace, it would seem that His Grace has proven that he was at fault for the end of the engagement.
One can only assume that he has been trying to save face, but at what cost? This author pities his sister, who is no doubt furious with him.
George tossed the scandal sheet aside, knowing that he could no longer hide from his troubles.
Three days had passed since Lady Cassandra left him, and in that time he had made his intentions known to Buxton.
He had paid off the debt and then some, and so in truth there was no harm in it being known that the man was extorting him.
He had done the responsible thing in going to the authorities, and in time all would settle, but that meant that he could no longer hide from what was truly important.
His grandmother and sister could not look at him.
They had hardly spoken to him since the day the wedding was meant to have taken place, for they were too disappointed in him.
At the time, it had been convenient, as it meant that he could concentrate on his troubles with Buxton, but with them as settled as he could get them, it meant that he had to face them at last. He sat at the table at breakfast, and saw a copy of the scandal sheet that he had been reading on the table.
“You should have told me,” his grandmother said coldly. “I could have helped you.”
“You do not understand. Buxton wanted more and more from me, and I could not bear the thought of you–”
“Of me knowing that my son had made mistakes?” she offered. “You are right, it would have hurt me, but that pales in comparison to the devastation that this has caused. I could have handled it, George.”
“I do not think that you could have. I am the man, and I am responsible for you both, and so I have done everything in my power to protect you both. This way, eventually, it will be seen as that. Had I left it to you, it would have made me look weak, the very thing that you have always told me I cannot be.”
“I am not only talking about Lord Buxton, George. This is why you wanted to take a wife, yes? You were going to use her dowry, which is why you had me arrange such an exquisite event.”
“Of course not. I wanted a wife to show that my life was as stable as it could possibly be, but it was never about a dowry. If that were the case, I would have married that dreadful Lady Sylvia and been done with it.”
He saw that Philippa had not moved. She was not looking at him, instead focusing intently on the bread and cold meats that were untouched on her plate.
“Philippa, you believe me, do you not?”
“I do not know what to believe. You told me that you liked Lady Cassandra. You made me think that you loved her, and I told her such lovely things about you, and now she will think that I was involved. She must hate me.”
“She will not hate you. If anything, that shall be reserved for me alone. She thinks most highly of you.”
“How could you possibly know that? You have ruined everything! I thought that I might at last have a friend, George, but you could not help yourself. It would not have killed you to be honest with her. She would have understood. She would have–”
But even in her anger she had to stop herself, for the truth was that they could not know what she thought.
It was more than likely that she would have come to the same conclusion that his grandmother had.
She would have assumed that he was using her, and then she would have called the engagement off regardless.
At least, how he had done it, she looked like the wronged party. It was a sacrifice that he was more than willing to make.
“You have to fix this,” Philippa finished. “Until you do, I do not think that I can look at you.”
She stormed away, her meal left behind. George stared at the empty doorway for a moment before turning to his grandmother again.
“I have always known that you were your own man,” she noted. “Even when you were a boy, I knew that you would not be like your father. I hoped that would be for the best, as he had his flaws, but you… I had thought that you might have the courage that he never did.”
“I do,” he protested. “I fought Buxton. I am going to do everything necessary to save our family, and to ensure that we–”
“Continue to be respected among society, yes. That is not what I mean. George, I hoped that when you were a man, you might chase what you wanted, rather than being bound by your duty all your life. That was your father’s pitfall, not his debt.”
George considered that, but only for a moment. He did not see it that way; he had had to sacrifice his desires in order to pay for his father’s debts, not because his father had followed his duty. It felt cruel that, after everything that he had done, his family had turned on him regardless.
He needed a drink.
He arrived at the pub and signaled for two drinks, as though he planned to meet someone, but they were both for himself.
He intended to drown his sorrows and listen to the people around him so that it would provide a distraction.
He could not continue to sit in his study with only the ticking of his clock for company.
He was exhausted, and yet he could not sleep.
Each time he tried, his dreams were filled with Lady Cassandra and he woke up once again.
“You look dreadful,” a familiar voice came.
George turned to see his friend Willoughby, who was grinning in spite of what he had said. He sat across from George and took one of the two glasses with an ease to him that George wished he still possessed.
“I certainly feel it. Why are you here?”
“Because, if I had to make an assumption, I would say that those around you are not being particularly kind to you at the moment.”
“Not at all, but I am deserving of that. It is justified after what I have done. Are you planning to add to it?”
“On the contrary. I have come to tell you that you are doing everything right. You have withdrawn, and you are drowning your sorrows and pushing everyone away. It is the perfect way to heal.”
“Very funny.”
“I am serious! Sherton, if this is what you want to do, I am not going to stop you. If there is one thing that I have learned of late, it is that we are all in control of what we do, and that we cannot live with regrets. If you believe that you will not regret acting this way, then far be it from me to force your hand.”
George raised an eyebrow at that. That was not how his friend was, nor how he had ever been. He had always been there to guide George, as George was for him in return.
“Has something happened, Willoughby?”
“Yes, but it is not important at this time. What matters is that you know I am more than happy for you to do as you please. I will not tell you what to do.”
“But–”
But he wanted him to. He wanted someone to tell him he was a fool, and to chase after what he wanted rather than simply accepting defeat. There was so much that he wanted his friend to say, and the fact that he was not doing so simply did not help him at all.
“What has happened?” he asked again. “You were never like this.”
“I shall tell you when all of this is over.”
“Over?”
“Yes. You and I both know that you will do what is right soon enough, because you cannot help yourself. I do not need to tell you what to do, for you will come to your senses whether I tell you to or not.”
They were quiet for a moment, and George had to admit that his friend was right. Not only that, but if he was going to do what was right, it had to be of his own accord, not because he had been told to do it.
“I know what you are doing,” he muttered.
“Good,” his friend replied. “I want you to be happy, Sherton, but not because you were forced to be. You know what you want, and you know where to find it. If you want to prove that you are your own man, then prove it. Otherwise, we can continue to sit and drink. I shall not tell you which choice to make.”
George nodded, and took his drink in one.
The sound of the glass was heavy against the wood, and he slammed it down so hard that people turned to him, but he did not notice.
There was a resolve in him that had disappeared long ago, and it burned brightly within him.
He returned home at a quicker pace than he had thought possible, and had a horse prepared at once.
“George?” Philippa asked from nearby in the garden. “What are you doing?”
“I am doing what I should have done long ago. I am going to find Lady Cassandra and tell her how I feel. Are you coming?”
“Me? I could not possibly– why, society would think–”
“If you suddenly care about what the ton thinks, then you owe me an apology for how you have treated me of late. Now, I do not have time for you to fret about such trivial matters of what may be thought of you. I am leaving imminently. Are you coming, or not?”
With one final glance back at the household, Philippa turned to him and nodded firmly.
“I will come with you, but we must tell Grandmother first.”
Their grandmother was, as George expected, more than happy for them to leave.
“I shall need some time to myself,” she nodded. “I will wait here for you both. Do what is right, George. I believe in you.”
It was the first time that she truly did seem to have faith in him, and it mattered to him far more than he cared to admit. They left within the hour, and the carriage ride crawled by, George watching the landscape change.
“Do you suppose she will turn me away?” he asked.
“I do not know. What do you think that she will do?”
“I do not know, but I hope that she will not. In any case, I have to try. If she does, then at least it has been her choice. I will not rest, but I will one day find peace.”
“And that would be a good thing, Brother. I should apologize for what happened this morning.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Philippa. You have every right to be angry with me.”
“I know, but I do not want to be. You were doing what you thought was best for us, and though it did not happen as I might have liked, I am grateful for you. I should have remembered how much I need you when I saw the scandal sheet.”
“Philippa, it is quite all right.”
“I am pleased, because when I read further on, I remembered just how short our lives are.”
It was sudden, and dark. George looked at his sweet younger sister and wondered how such thoughts had come to her. He knew that ladies knew of death, but it was something they did not discuss. Even when their father had died, the conversation had been short and then never mentioned again.
“Did the sheet mention Father?” he asked. “I will admit, I did not read beyond what was said of us.”
Philippa’s cheeks colored then as she looked at him.
“George, did you honestly not read it?”
“I did not. Should– should I have?”
Her eyes widened, and she reached into her reticule. She brought it out and read it again, as though ensuring that she had not made a mistake. With a steady breath, she looked at him, contemplating whether to tell him or let him read it for himself.
“What is it, Philippa?”
“Lord Willoughby’s father has passed away. Oh– I suppose I should say the Duke of Wetherton now…”
The silence flooded his ears at once. He remembered how his friend looked at the pub, and how he had said they would not discuss what was troubling him until after he had settled things with Lady Cassandra.
They were traveling to her now, while he was alone.
The guilt was thick in his throat, but then he felt Philippa tug on his sleeve.
“You are doing what is right,” she assured him.
“He told me to come here. Had I known–”
“And that is why he did not tell you. He wants you to do this, and so we will handle matters here, and then you can be a friend to him. Think of it this way: as it stands, you cannot be a good friend to him, for you are far too occupied with your own misery. We shall get you right, and then you will be better as a friend.”
It made perfect sense, but there was still turmoil in his mind. George wished he was better then and there, so that he could be the man that everyone needed him to be.
But he shook the thought from his mind. He was doing what needed to be done. He was making himself the man that he had to be, and that had to be enough. It would be enough, as long as Lady Cassandra accepted him. She could not turn him away; he desperately needed her not to turn him away.
They arrived, and as soon as they came to a halt he darted out of the carriage and ran to the door.
“I am here to see Lady Cassandra,” he announced when the door opened.
He simply hoped they would let him in.