Chapter 9
“You are not very talkative this evening, Lord Surrey.”
George sighed inwardly and looked back at Miss Burnley. “Am I not?”
She pouted. “No, you are not. A soiree is meant to be a place of joviality and good conversation.”
With a glance towards her, George let out a small breath that hid his frustration from her. “I fear that is because I have very little to say this evening.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “That is most displeasing. If you will not be good company, then I have every reason to take my leave of you and find another to speak with.”
Glancing down at her hand on his arm, George shrugged lightly.
“Miss Burnley, we both know that we are bound to each other, whether we desire it truly to be so or not. If I have disappointed you this evening – something that I appear to be doing fairly regularly – then I shall not hold it against you if you desire to speak to someone else. My own thoughts are heavy indeed.”
Instead of showing any interest in what he had said or offering him any sort of compassion, Miss Burnley only took her hand from his arm and then flounced away, taking herself to another group of gentlemen and ladies.
One of them glanced over at George, and he scowled, wondering if Miss Burnley was complaining about his lack of conversation to them already.
Regardless, we are to wed, he thought to himself, dully. Even when neither of us wishes it.
“I must speak with you.”
His heart shot upwards as a lady he had not expected to see took his arm and, without even a question on her lips or a hesitation in her manner, pulled him after her.
He followed wordlessly, seeing Lady Norah stepping out after them as they made their way to the terrace.
There was nothing in him that wanted to protest, that wanted to stay back from her or refuse to do as she had demanded, even though he probably would be best to do so.
“What is it, Miss Williams?” The terrace had a few guests standing upon it already but none of them so much as glanced at George, since both Lady Norah and Miss Williams were present with him. “Is there something the matter?”
Her eyes held his. “There is something I must share with you,” she said, steadily. “Yesterday afternoon, I was in the bookshop and overheard someone speaking about you.”
George blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“They spoke of documents?”
The question in her eyes made his heart tremble. She wanted to know what was being spoken of, wanted to hear his explanation for them, all in the hope that it would bring her some sort of relief. How much he wanted to give it!
“Please,” she said, when silence was his only answer.
“You have said that we are strangers and then, despite that, you ask to dance the waltz with me! You have said we are to forget it all, but I have seen the pain in your eyes when you think of the distance between us. All I need is one simple explanation, and then I can forget all that was shared between us.” Her eyes dimmed but did not once leave his.
“I must find my own match, just as you have done, but my heart refuses to release you from itself even though it has been quite broken.”
A tightness in his chest had his hands curling as George dropped his head, looking down at the floor. “What good will it do you?”
“To know the truth?” Taking a step closer to him so that the scent of vanilla and lavender blew gently towards him, Miss Williams’ eyes searched his own. “It will heal some of the brokenness.”
Closing his eyes so he would not be drawn to her with such strength, George curled his fingers into his palm. “There are documents, yes. Documents that state I must marry Miss Burnley. That is all.”
Her hand touched his, and George jumped, stepping back from her. Tears immediately swam in her eyes, and she moved away again, her hand going to her heart as if she wanted to soothe it.
“I cannot be near you,” he said, hoarsely. “I cannot. Do not ask me to be, Miss Williams. I have no choice in this. I am duty bound to her and – ”
“Why were two gentlemen discussing these documents in the middle of a bookshop?”
The question surprised him, and he grew quiet for a few moments, trying to think of some reasonable explanation, but none came.
“Someone would only speak in a bookshop if they did not want to be overheard by others in their family or if they wished to make certain that they were not seen in each other’s company,” Miss Williams continued. “Does that not concern you?”
George shook his head. “The documents are being looked over by my own solicitor. Mayhap Lord Turnhill met an acquaintance and spoke of the impending marriage. There need be no further explanation than that.”
Miss Williams closed her eyes and, much to George’s dismay, a single tear dropped to her cheek. “Then that is all that needs to be said.”
Licking his lips, George wanted to say more, wanted to say something that would draw her back to him, but he could not. There was nothing he could add to what had been shared, nothing that he could tell her that would be of any benefit.
“I am sorry for the situation you find yourself in, Surrey.” Miss Williams, opening her eyes, dabbed at them with a handkerchief provided by Lady Norah, who still stood nearby. “I am free to choose my own match, and I do wish so very much that you had been able to do the same.”
Unable to help himself, George caught her hand as she made to walk past him. “As do I,” he said hoarsely, a weight in his chest. “Do not doubt that, Miss Williams. There is nothing I should like more than to make my own choice, but fate has me tied to another.”
Their eyes held for a long time, his hand still holding hers, and a tingling running up his arm towards his heart. Lady Norah murmured something, and Miss Williams, pulled her hand away, walked past George, and back towards the door.
He could not look after her, the sense of loss in him so great that he wanted to lower his head and weep.
His throat was sore, aching heavily as he took a few staggered steps forward, reaching the end of the terrace and gripping the rail with both hands.
The future before him was dark, his hopes covered in shadows that would never release him.
If he could not have Miss Williams, then he would spend the rest of his life regretting his action in stepping away – all the while knowing that he had not been given any other choice but to do so.
“My friend?”
Barely able to lift his head, George recognized Lord Dorset’s voice. “Yes?”
“Whisky. Here.”
Slowly, George raised his head and, releasing the railing with one hand, took the glass from him. The fire from the liquid burned him back into some semblance of life, even though a groan of anguish remained trapped against his heart.
“That was not an easy conversation, I think?” Lord Dorset smiled ruefully. “I was not eavesdropping, nor was I watching you.”
“You were watching Norah.”
Lord Dorset nodded. “You still care for Miss Williams, that much is apparent.”
“She overheard a conversation about the documents,” George explained, before taking another mouthful of whisky. “I had to explain a little to her. Needless to say, she now understands that I have no choice but to stay away from her and to marry Miss Burnley.”
A few lines drew themselves across Lord Dorset’s forehead. “Why was someone discussing your documents in a place where they could be overheard?”
It was nearly the same question as Miss Williams had asked herself, but George did not know how to answer.
“I would have thought that anyone with any interest in the matter would have done so discreetly. Where was she when she heard this?”
“In a bookshop.” George ran one hand over his eyes. “I do not want to speak any more of this, Dorset. I have had quite enough of the entire situation, and I must – ”
“There is something about those documents that concerns me.”
George dropped his hand back to his side. “I beg your pardon?”
“There is something about the documents that concerns me, and to be truthful, hearing that Miss Williams has overheard a conversation about them also in a place as strange as a bookshop only adds to my concern.”
This was utterly astonishing, and George, not knowing how to respond, could only look blankly back at Lord Dorset. His friend smiled ruefully, then knocked his whisky glass against George’s, drawing him back to himself a little. “You are surprised to hear me say such a thing.”
“I – I am.” George threw back the rest of his whisky, letting the liquor drip into his veins. “My father made it clear to me that they were all to be honored and even my own solicitors – ”
“I am surprised at that as well,” Lord Dorset told him, as George looked down at his empty glass and wondered silently if he ought to fetch another. “If I saw something of concern after only one perusal – and a brief one at that – then why did your solicitors not see the very same thing?”
“What did you see?” George asked, glancing around to make sure they could not be overheard. “What is it about the documents that troubles you so?”
Lord Dorset’s brow furrowed. “There is something about the seal that appears… incomplete.”
“But of course it is incomplete,” George replied, having seen the seal, cracked and worn as it was. “The documents are old, and the seal will not have withstood the test of time. It sits on the bottom of the third page, revealing an end to the documents and the agreement itself.”
The frown remained on Lord Dorset’s face. “I think it does not appear genuine. It is cracked and worn, and therefore, the seal itself is not particularly clear. It could have been made to look that way.”
George did not know how to respond. He did not want to laugh and state that there was nothing wrong with the seal and that his friend was being quite preposterous, but nor did he want to take what Lord Dorset was suggesting as fact.
He had already asked his own solicitors to examine the documents and, given that they had done so and found nothing awry, he could not believe that Lord Dorset had found something they had not.
“And you are sure that the names written in those documents correspond to your family’s names?”
George hesitated, then shrugged. “I have not searched for the names myself. I have left it to – ”
“Your solicitors, yes.” Lord Dorset wrinkled his nose.
“I would have thought – and I say this without meaning to be in the least bit insulting – that with such a significant thing pressed into your hand, you would have done all you could to make certain everything was just as it ought to be. You have been very trusting so far.”
“But who am I not to trust?” George threw up his hands, his voice bouncing around the terrace and garnering the attention of one or two others. “My father? My solicitors?”
Lord Dorset tilted his head and watched George for a long moment before he said anything more. George, somewhat embarrassed that he had been so very loud and reacted so strongly, dropped his gaze and groaned softly.
“Your father might have been just as trusting as you are,” Lord Dorset said, gently.
“I do not speak ill of you, my friend, believe me. I am suggesting only that it might be worth your time to look over the documents carefully yourself, to research the names within those documents… and to ensure no marriage took place.”
George’s shoulders dropped, and he sighed heavily. “You are doing your best to comfort me, to try and find a way for all of this to be taken from me, but I do not see a way out.”
“But what if there was?” Lord Dorset took a step closer, looking straight into George’s eyes.
“What if there was something about the documents that was of concern? What if there was a difference in the names? What if there was a marriage and no one has discovered it as yet? Would that not be worth pursuing? It would free you from all of this, my friend. Free you from everything.” He put one hand on George’s shoulder.
“And it would permit you to go towards the one young lady that fills your heart still, rather than pushing her away from you repeatedly in the hope your love for her will fade. I can promise you this, it will not.”
The words sent George’s heart into a spiral, and he looked away, his chest growing tight as he thought about what freedom might mean.
“Will you think about it, at least?” Lord Dorset took a step back and released George.
“If you decide that I speak nonsense and that the documents are quite suitable just as they are, then so be it. But if you decide that they might merit further study, then know I would be glad to show you my concerns. Indeed, hearing that Miss Williams has overheard someone speaking about these documents only adds to my own belief that there might well be something amiss!”
George bit his lip and thought quickly. He had dismissed the notion of there being anything wrong with what Miss Williams had heard quickly enough, but what if there was something more going on that he did not know of?
Could it be that his father had been convinced far too easily… and was he doing the very same thing?
“If there is something wrong with the documents, then does that not suggest that Lord Turnhill could be…?”
“Pursuing you for his own ends?” Lord Dorset finished, when George could not find the words.
“Yes, that is my thinking. If he was the one talking to another in the bookshop about the whole affair, then one must wonder who it was he was speaking with. In addition, it makes me think that he knows there is something about the documents that, thus far, he has been able to hide. I do not mean to say this carelessly, my friend, so I pray you do not take it so, but I fear that you might very well have been deceived… and easily so at that.”
“Because I am trusting?”
“Because you are far too trusting,” his friend clarified. “That could easily be taken advantage of.”
Considering all of this and feeling a sting of embarrassment, George nodded slowly. “Might you be willing to show me all that concerns you about the documents?”
Lord Dorset smiled, a look of relief coming into his expression. “Of course. I should like you to be free to make your own choice about who to marry, my friend. I do not think you will be happy with Miss Burnley.”
“No, I shall not be,” George agreed, “but it still may be my duty to fulfil. I shall just have to wait and see.”