Cecelia could no longer see past the red mist of anger that entirely enfolded her.
“With me married off, you would have no obstacles to chase your own happiness,” Cecelia pointed out. “Don't think I haven't noticed your fawning over Walter all these years!”
“Walter has nothing to do with any of this!” Mary protested. “Don't you dare try to use our friendship to suit whatever narrative you have come up with in your mind just because you're angry with me for doing something you were too stubborn to do yourself!”
Cecelia paused. Her sister was right. The blame did not lie with Walter.
“You're right. All of this is entirely down to you and George! You conspired behind my back, and now he has decided to break his promise to you. I am to be unchaperoned from this point on. I might as well have been from the beginning!”
“What do you mean, he—”
Cecelia could not bring herself to argue any longer.
Just as she had in the duke's box, she turned on her heels and hurried away, this time towards the nearest powder room.
The tears that had been stinging her eyes for several minutes now threatened to be unleashed, and she forced herself to smile her way through the crowd of people in the foyer, wishing the front doors were closer so that she might instead escape into the cool night air.
***
Why Cecelia lay alone in her room, weeping, she did not really know. She ought to have been relieved.
She had, after all, been hoping to see to her own affairs without the duke's interferences, but the knowledge that he and hersister had gone behind her back to make an agreement made her nauseous.
Replaying her last conversation with the duke made her feel all the worse.
With her hand on the empty space where her locket used to be, she felt hollow.
She hadn't truly realized how much that one piece of jewellery had meant to her until now. And now, it was gone. What George had done with it, she didn't know, and that made her quiver as the tears overwhelmed her.
Why couldn't things just be simple? Why had she felt so absent as she had returned to Lord Greystone's side?
Why couldn't she simply be satisfied with having found an amicable suitor?
After all, Lord Greystone ticked every box.
Her tears were just beginning to subside when she heard a gentle knock upon her door.
A glance at the clock on the mantelpiece across the room told her it was almost midnight.
Surely her mother could wait until morning to hear about the theatre.
She didn't answer the knock. Instead, she rolled over and turned her back to the door.
Yet, she heard the familiar click as it was gently pushed open.
“Cece?”
Mary's soft tone made her cringe.
She had no interest in talking to her right now.
Closing her eyes, she pretended to be asleep.
That did not seem to dissuade her sister as she crossed the room and slipped onto the bed behind her.
An arm wrapped around her as Mary whispered, “I'm sorry, Cece.”
Another tear rolled down Cecelia's cheek, and she fought back a sob.
