“Why would she not?”
“Because she is marrying you against her will. That is hardly a good basis for a friendship between her and I.”
The dowager made a sound of approval.
“At least someone understands the gravity of the situation.”
“Enough,” George said. “You will not change the outcome of what is to happen, Grandmother, so you might as well accept it.”
A brief silence followed.
“I hope she does not hate me,” Philippa said softly.
“She will not,” George said, more firmly than he intended. “The two of you will be friends.”
His grandmother arched a brow.
“You sound remarkably certain.”
“And that is because I am.”
The carriage slowed, and his grandmother reached for her reticule. She straightened, fixing her face into a smile, though George could see through it.
“I will stay only as long as is absolutely required.”
George opened the door, offering his arm, which she took.
“Of course. I would not expect anything else from you.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult?”
“You may take it however you please.”
“Remember,” Philippa added behind them, “we are here to be seen as united.”
“Which of course, we are,” George replied, without turning.
They crossed into the parish church, and George watched as Philippa looked around her.
“I do not see her.”
“She is not here yet.”
“Late, of course,” the Dowager mumbled, but she said nothing further.
George took his place in the pew, beside his grandmother, leaving the space to his right empty with the plan being that Lady Cassandra would join him there.
A moment later, murmurs rippled through the nave. George looked up to see Lady Cassandra entering with her parents. Her spine was straight, her chin lifted, and her expression was unmistakably defiant. She did not look at him, rather she continued down the aisle while looking ahead.
George raised his hand slightly, signaling for her to join them. Her gaze flicked toward him, only for a second, before she deliberately took a seat several rows away. His grandmother inhaled sharply.
“She is being difficult on purpose.”
“So I see,” he grumbled.
Philippa leaned closer. “She is beautiful,” she whispered, as if surprised by the thought.
George did not respond. He was already on his feet, trying to prevent a disaster. He stopped beside Lady Cassandra’s pew, close enough that she startled despite herself.
