Mary looked him in the eye for only a second before she looked to her hands again. “My mother has taken ill, Your Grace. Cecelia refuses to leave her side.”
George tilted his head slightly, well aware of his mother's lack of interjection.
“Then she is in no position to debut,” he pointed out. Mary's head lifted, and she looked him dead in the eye then. “She only refuses to consider her debut because she does not have the proper chaperone. If she were to, she would never deny herself the opportunity. Mama would surely feel better if she knew everything was being taken care of.”
George gritted his teeth. His mother's expression had grown all the more expectant.
“Your sister is stubborn, Lady Mary,” George pointed out, “were she to know that you had asked this of me, she would never accept.”
Mary's cheeks reddened. “And that is why I ask that you keep this conversation between us.”
“George, you must see reason,” his mother said, her expression almost pained now. It was clearly taking all her effort not to simply order him to do the right thing as she might have done when his father was still alive.
Mary looked at him with large, round eyes filled with silent pleading.
Beneath the table, George pinched himself, fighting the urge to give in right then and there.
“Your Grace, without your help, I fear what shall become of my family,” Mary said, as if she hoped to tip him over the edge of his indecision. “We shall be forever in your debt.”
Some men in his position might have been well prepared to hold her to that, to have the Flannery family at his every beck and call for the rest of their lives. But in truth, George did not care for such things. He would not wish to lord anything over the people who had been like family to him, whether Cecelia had broken him or not.
Closing his eyes, he considered his options once more.
He ought to return to his study and get on with his own business, allow the Flannerys to handle their own affairs, and yethe couldn't help thinking of Cecelia sitting at her sick mother's bedside.
“Has a doctor attended your mother?” he asked, barely daring to open his eyes again for fear that he might give into Mary's pleading gaze.
“Doctor Danham is hopeful she shall make a full recovery,” Mary admitted before she quickly added, “though I am not certain she could take any more bad news with how weak she is, Your Grace.”
George cringed. How could he send her away without even a glimmer of hope?
His throat constricted, and for a second, he was unable to speak.
A glance at his mother told him where she stood on the matter, though for once, she was uncharacteristically silent.
“Lady Mary, I shall agree to chaperone your sister on one condition,” he stated, and he had to force himself not to smile when he saw the delight on her face.
“Yes? Anything, Your Grace,” Mary insisted, “I shall do anything you wish.”
“Lady Cecelia mustnotlearn of this conversation between us,” he said firmly. “I shall not have her reject my help out of stubbornness.”
“Oh, Your Grace, my lips shall remain firmly closed on the matter!” Mary said, her voice almost breaking with emotion.
George nodded his acceptance of her promise. “Now, can we eat before all of this food goes to waste?”
His mother's smile was plainly joyous at his words, and he tried not to look at her. Certainly, he knew she would be sure to remind him that she had been right at some point, though he was not ready for such conversations yet.
“Thank you, Your Grace, but I should return home quickly or risk being found out,” Mary said, rising from her seat.
“Please, allow me to escort you out,” George said, making to rise.
Mary waved him off the idea. “I think I can find my own way to the door. After all, this place is as much home as Fernworth.”
At that, his mother reached out and took her hand. “And it always shall be, shall it not, George?”
The way the two women looked at him made George nod. “Of course.”
Mary looked as if she were about to leave, but before she could do so, George heard a commotion coming from the hallway.
