George's chest tightened. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, unsure of what to say.
“Cecelia is a lucky lady,” she said, and George's heart skipped a beat. Having stopped beside the carriage, George barely noticed his manservant as he plucked Lord Greystone's coat from his shoulders and began to help him peel off his own.
He was about to protest when Elizabeth stepped away. She raised her head, her expression filled with understanding and something else, something that made George unable to speak.
“You have always been too stubborn for your own good, Georgie,” she said, smiling softly. “You must put it aside now and follow your heart.”
George's throat constricted.
“Elizabeth, I—”
She shook her head, cutting him off.
“Do not try to explain. There is no need. I have long suspected that your heart lies with another. I would not wish to stand in the way of that.”
George half-stepped forward, then back again. Unsure what to say or do.
“Your Grace, we really ought to get you in the carriage and out of these wet clothes,” his manservant insisted, but George waved him away.
“Elizabeth, you have always been like a sister to me,” he insisted as he finally found his voice. “I would not wish anything to change that.”
He felt relief wash over him as she smiled.
When she reached for his hand, he took hers and gripped tightly. “You shall always have a brother in me, no matter what you may need. Be it support, protection, or otherwise.”
Elizabeth's smile broadened. “And you shall always have mine, George. But you were always well aware of that.”
For a second, neither of them spoke. George tried hard to hide his shivering, feeling unable to leave quite yet, but still unsure what else to say.
“If I am your sister, so then allow me to impart some advice?” she asked, her smile becoming almost sad.
George simply nodded, his teeth beginning to chatter.
“Do not wait, George,” Elizabeth insisted. She squeezed his hand firmly. “Or you may find it is already too late.”
Had it not been for the very public area they were standing in, George might well have hugged her then.
Instead, he squeezed her hand firmly in the hopes she would feel his gratitude and brotherly affection.
As if she did, she withdrew her hand from his, and ordered, “Off with you, Georgie, before my mother has my guts for garters for allowing you to catch your death of cold.”
The sisterly affection that shone in her gaze caused him to offer a smile in return.
“You are wise beyond your years, Lizzie,” he told her, dipping a low bow. “You shall make a man very happy one day.”
“And I shall never allow him to forget it,” she assured him, happily.
“I should think not.” George smiled before clambering into his carriage, his hands and feet numb with cold.
The coachman appeared to need no instruction, for as soon as the door was closed and Elizabeth stepped away, the carriage started to move swiftly.
And it took all he had in him for George not to instruct him straight to Fernworth Manor after Elizabeth's words.
No matter his feelings, he was certain Cecelia would not thank him for turning up in such a sorry state.
And in truth, he wasn't certain that in his current state, he was anywhere near ready to admit the truth.
Still, Elizabeth's words haunted him.It might be too late.
