By the time intermission came, George was practically halfway out of his seat.
The air in the box felt heavy, his muscles so tight he thought he might actually do himself some damage, and it took all he had in him not to rush from the box.
Instead, he forced himself to watch Mary and Walter, and Cecelia and Lord Greystone, walk from the box arm in arm before he slipped into the hall himself.
At aleisurelypace, he followed them all to the foyer where the audience gathered for a break, several disappearing to refresh themselves whilst others stood with their usual chatter and gossip.
Every muscle in George was tensed to flee, but he could not bring himself to do so, not whilst he was Cecelia's chaperone. Whether she wanted him, whether she needed him or not, he would be there.
He would not have it said he had failed in his duties. Nor would he have theton'sscrutiny fall upon her.
He watched her still, from the corner of the room, though every moment of it was pure torture.
The way she laughed, the way she fluttered her lashes, and the way she placed her hand gently upon Lord Greystone's forearm. It was all painful.
Why had she never looked at him that way? Perhaps she had, though he had never allowed himself to see it. And now, it was far too late to go back.
“Are you quite well?”
Walter's voice made him jump.
He had been so intent upon his torturer that he hadn't even noticed his friend approaching. In fact, he barely saw him now, standing beside him, as he continued to watch the happy couple.
“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Why do you not speak with her?” Walter asked, and the hair on the back of George's neck stood on end.
“What is there to say?”
Too much,he thought grimly.Too much, too late.
How could he do that to her now? After all these years of failing to see the truth of his feelings, the truth behind the grudge he had held so close to his heart.
He remembered all too well her sheer shock at his revelation. He remembered how she had comforted him, how she had been beside herself, how he had kissed her. And he felt the heat drain from his face.
“Tell her how you feel,” Walter encouraged, and George scoffed. If only it were so simple.
How was she ever to believe him after all that had happened?
George knew Cecelia well enough to be sure she would accuse him of doing anything he could just to see her away from Lord Greystone. And in truth, he suspected that in part, she was right.
But just seeing her smile, seeing the happiness on her face, he couldn't bring himself to do so.
Forced to sit through the rest of the performance with Lord Greystone in tow, George thought several times of leaving early.
Only his duty kept him there.
And by the end, he was beyond reason.
“Lady Cecelia, might I have a moment of your time?” he asked as they were exiting the box. He longed to reach for her, to pull her from Lord Greystone and hold onto her for all he was worth.
She looked back at him with a furrowed brow. “Can it wait until the morning? I am quite exhausted.”
George shook his head. “I shall not be in attendance in the morning.”
Cecelia's expression fell, and she turned to whisper something to Lord Greystone, no doubt assuring him she would follow on to the foyer.
George gritted his teeth and waited for the others to leave, noting Walter's look of hope. He cringed, knowing what he was about to do was quite the opposite of his friend's wishful thinking.
