Cecelia glanced around the room before she pointed out, “We are alone.”
Though he already knew it well, her words made a shiver pass down the length of his spine.
They had not shared a single moment entirely alone since they were children playing in the meadows. The memory of it made him smile as he imagined the radiance of her bounding through the wildflowers, carefree and innocent.
“I must confess something to you, Cecelia,” he said, his heart hammering so hard that he was almost certain she would be able to hear it, “something that I have denied to myself for so long that I can no longer contain it.”
Cecelia’s eyes darkened suspiciously.
“If you wish to tell me that you were right and I was wrong, then you do not need to utter the words,” she said, scowling, urging her hand from his, though her fingertips remained ever so lightly upon his palm.
George returned her scowl, shaking his head. “You do not like to make things easy for me, do you, Cece?”
At her old nickname, she started to blush.
“What would be the fun in that?” she asked, though her tone was a little uncertain.
George inched his hand closer to her, catching hers in his palm once more as he finally dared to utter the words, “I am in love with you, Lady Cecelia Flannery, and I can only now admit to myself that I have been for all the time that I have known you. All the years we spent apart have been a wound upon my heart, and I cannot bear the sting of it any longer.”
Cecelia blinked, long and slow as if she were utterly confused by his words. “George, you do not have to—”
“Let me say this, Cece,” he said, placing his other hand over hers to cup it in both of his. Her skin was warm between his palms, her hand much smaller than his, gentle and almost fragile but utterly beautiful. He found himself wondering whether the single freckle upon the knuckle of her middle finger still remained there, still as dark as it had been before.
Lifting his hand for just a second, he spied it right where he remembered it and started to smile.
“What?” she insisted.
“You cannot bring yourself to believe me, can you? You cannot bring yourself to believe that I am and always have been utterly and hopelessly in love with you,” he said, sighing deeply as he realized his own foolishness in the situation.
“I cannot blame you. I have never shown you nor told you. I could not even admit it to myself for so long, and I see now that you were right. I was a jealous, interfering fool, but I cannot say now that I regret one second of it.”
He looked her in the eye, and his heart swelled as he saw the affection glowing there. Her green irises blazed with it so violently that she almost didn’t have to return his affections, for he sensed it, he knew it deep in his heart, and suddenly all the fear and all the nerves melted away.
There was not a single doubt left in his mind as he reached into his pocket and plucked out her pendant. Holding it in his palm, he held it out to her and said, “I believe this belongs to you.”
When she looked down at his palm, it seemed to take her a moment to realize what he was holding. But as the realization dawned upon her, she snatched her hand from his and placed both of hers over her mouth.
“You kept it!”
George’s cheeks heated a little as he said, “It is the most precious gift that I ever gave. How could I not see it fixed and returned to you?”
When she looked at him again, there were tears in her eyes. He noted how her lower lip quivered, the colour the perfect shade of peach.
“I … I thought it was lost forever,” she admitted, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.
“May I put it back on for you?” George asked, and Cecelia did not speak. She merely pursed her lips as if to stop her tears as she nodded and turned in her seat, sweeping her hair to one side to give him access to her slender neck.
Carefully, George placed the pendant around her neck and closed the clasp, his fingers lightly brushing the skin at the nape of her neck. Seeing the way she trembled at his touch, he trembled also.
George was only half-surprised when she twisted back in her seat to face him, catching hold of his hand before he could lower it back to his lap.
When their gazes met again, his heart stopped.
“I … I love you too, George,” she said, and he breathed a deep sigh of relief.
“All these years I had been fearful you did not,” he admitted, his own eyes beginning to sting a little, though he did what he could to deny himself the urge to weep with relief.
Overcome with emotion, he held her hand, and, with his other, he cupped her cheek. When she leaned into his palm, it felt as if some kind of circuit had finally been completed, and for a second, he dared not break the silence in case it too became broken once more.
