“Is something the matter?” Cecelia asked when they were alone, the door of the box left open for propriety's sake.
The urge to close it, to close them off from the world, and keep her there was almost unbearable.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, George glanced at his feet.
“I wish to tell you that my time as your chaperone has ended,” he said, barely able to look her in the eye for a second before he dropped his gaze again.
“I beg your pardon?” she exclaimed, and George's eyes flew to hers.
The shock he found there was like a knife to his gut.
“I can see you have no more need of me,” he added, and Cecelia started to shake her head.
“That isn't true,” she insisted. “The Season is still—”
George cut her off. “I can see that your intentions towards Lord Greystone have not changed.”
“George, if you are about to tell me some other rumour you have heard about him, then I do not wish to hear it.”
George met her gaze then, his jaw so tight that it made his entire face hurt.
“And that is exactly why you have no more need of me,” George said, his entire body urging him to take her by the shoulders and shake her until she saw sense.
“What about your promise to see my father's wish fulfilled?”
“Do you believe Lord Greystone will not propose?” George countered. “He would be a fool not to, and as it seems I cannot make you see reason, what other need have you of me?”
At that, Cecelia blushed.
“I am not married yet,” she pointed out, and George's insides twisted.
“I fear the time is close at hand when you shall be,” George admitted, and Cecelia appeared stunned. “I have tried to warn you, and you have not listened to a word I have said in regard to your choice.”
“This isn't about my choice!” Cecelia snapped at him. “This is about you! Why do you not wish me to be married? Do you not wish me to be happy?”
The thought of her marrying a man like Lord Greystone, of her marrying any man, for that matter, made him feel quite nauseous.
He had to put himself first for once. The pain of this evening had told him just how unbearable it would be to watch from the shadows as she fell into happiness with someone else.
“Do you think you shall be happy with Lord Greystone?” George blurted.
Cecelia's face paled, and for a second, George dared to hope he might actually get through to her.
“You can't just quit,” Cecelia continued as if she wished to change the subject. “Mother is expecting you to escort me to several more balls before the Season is over.”
“I am quite certain your mother would agree you have done a fine job of securing yourself a match. Lord Greystone did not take his eyes off you all evening.”
The romantic tension between the pair still played upon his mind now. No matter how he tried to stop thinking of it, it returned to him.
“Besides, how am I to be your chaperone if you will not heed my advice?”
Cecelia stared at him, her cheeks flushed.
“There is a difference between advice and demanding that I follow orders, George!”
He sighed deeply. This conversation was not going anywhere. And so, he decided there was only one thing left to do.
“You may tell Mary that I rescind my promise,” he said, watching the confusion unfold upon her radiant face.
