“I shall go with you,” Walter offered.
George shook his head.
“This matter concerns me too,” Walter pointed out, “Cecelia is Mary's sister, and any problem that may befall one befalls the other.”
“You are truly set upon her then?” George asked, smiling a little at the thought of his friend's happiness.
Walter pursed his lips and nodded.
George leaned over and tapped his friend affectionately on the shoulder. “I am happy for you.”
“As I shall be when you put all of these matters to bed and finally tell Cecelia the truth of your affections,” Walter said, and George tensed at his words. “You will tell her, will you not?”
“I suppose that shall all depend on whether or not she believes my tales of Fitzwilliam.”
“She must,” Walter insisted.
Again, George laughed. “You and I both know that Cecelia rarely does the things that she is told she must do.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the beautiful, remarkable, rebellious young lady Cecelia had been when they were children. That she had now fallen into the trap of adhering to theton’swishes for marriage made him feel quite sick. It was this life, forced upon so many young women, that had led to Cecelia's encountering Fitzwilliam in the first place.
“Perhaps I ought to have denied her father's wish to be her chaperone,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Perhaps if she had been forced to wait another year, things might have been different—”
“As you say, you and I know Cece far too well to believe she would have waited,” Walter said, his tone sad. “She would have found a way around such things.”
George nodded slowly.
“You know, in a way, she reminds me of that stubborn old mare you had when we were growing up,” Walter said, and George couldn't help laughing at that. “Your father wished to be rid of the blasted thing after she threw you off multiple times, but you were adamant that you could break her.”
George remembered the old mare fondly, though in truth, he never had really wished to break her. He had loved her spirit, just as he loved Cecelia's, and the thought of losing her had been a burden upon his heart. The thought of losing Cecelia now was even more so.
“I shan't tell her you likened her to a mare,” George said, pursing his lips against more amusement. This was truly no time for laughter.
“I am quite certain Mary would be ever more eager to marry me if you did,” Walter said, his own tone quite amused.
“The two of you have spoken of marriage, then?” George asked, raising a brow.
Walter's face spread in a beaming smile.
“Quietly, yes,” Walter said, his cheeks turning somewhat red. “Unofficially, of course. There is the matter of Cecelia's own marriage to come beforehand.”
George flinched at that. Yet, another reason why Cecelia would be so adamant to see herself married off. She had always been one for putting her sisters before herself, and if marrying well, marrying a viscount, would unlock the happiness of one of her dear sisters, he knew she would do it.
When the room had been silent for several moments, Walter offered again, “I shall go with you.”
George shook his head. With a deep sigh, he said, “This is one thing I must do alone.”
Walter nodded, his understanding clear. And George sighed a little with relief that he wasn’t going to push the subject.
When his friend glanced down, his fingers playing with the hem of his waistcoat, his stomach twisted with nerves. The look upon his face suggested something unspoken between them.
“What is it?” George asked, raising a brow. The churning in his gut told him he wasn’t entirely sure that he wished to hear the answer.
“George, I … I feel the need to apologize,” Walter said, glancing at him before he turned his attention back to his fingers, “to both you and to Cecelia.”
George leaned back in his seat, quite confused as he asked, “Whatever for?”
Walter’s smile was almost bashful as he looked at George again and answered, “For ever suggesting that you and Elizabeth should enter into an arrangement.”
