“And you never consider,” he replied, “that your actions have consequences regardless of your intentions.”
She looked away. She always seemed so proud of herself, but at that moment she seemed positively mortified.
“I am tired of being controlled,” she confessed.
“And I am tired,” he said, “of pulling you back from the edge.”
The words surprised them both. Her gaze returned to his, something unguarded flickering there. For a moment, neither spoke. George became suddenly, acutely aware of how close they were, and the fact that he should not have been there. He needed to leave.
He did not.
“You frighten me,” he said, more softly than intended.
Her expression shifted, almost smiling.
“I frighten you?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “Because you do not seem to care what becomes of you.”
She swallowed.
“That is not true.”
“Then prove it,” he said. “Stop treating yourself as expendable.”
The silence deepened. He realized, too late, how badly he wanted to close the space between them. How easy it would be, how utterly disastrous.
He stepped back at once.
“This conversation is over,” he said abruptly.
“What?”
“I cannot remain here,” he said, already turning away. “Not like this.”
“George—”
He stopped at the door, hand braced against the wood.
“Do not,” he said quietly. “Do not make me regret my restraint.”
Then he opened the door and left, heart pounding, pulse unsteady, the unmistakable awareness burning through him that if he stayed one moment longer, he would have kissed her.
And that would have changed everything.
That evening, George sat in his study with the fire lit high, boots discarded, coat draped over the back of a chair he had not bothered to straighten. The flames crackled steadily, welcome but insufficient, as though his body still remembered the lake too well to be convinced it was no longer cold.
He stood when his solicitor was shown in, more from habit than courtesy.
“Your Grace,” the man said, removing his gloves. “I will not take much of your time.”
“I hope not,” George replied, gesturing for him to sit. “You have news, I assume?”
“I do,” the solicitor said, opening his ledger. “And it is good.”
George folded his arms, forcing himself to remain still. The fact that it was good news made him feel brighter, but he knew better than to trust it based on so few words.
“Your investments in the shipping venture have exceeded expectations,” the man continued. “The returns from the last quarter alone are sufficient to cover a significant portion of the debt.”
