“I wished to thank you.”
Her brows lifted. She was good at feigning innocence when she wished.
“For fainting?”
“For your timing,” he said dryly. “And your courage.”
She closed the book and set it aside.
“Grandmother was furious, of course.”
“I noticed,” George replied. “You spared Cassandra a great deal of unnecessary cruelty.”
“She plays beautifully. I did not see why she should be made to suffer for it.”
He studied his sister for a moment, then sat opposite her. The fire crackled softly between them.
“You are troubled,” Philippa said.
“I did not believe I was that transparent.”
“You are to me,” she replied. “You always have been.”
He did not deny it.
“Things are complicated.”
“They were complicated before,” she said gently. “This is different.”
“I am trying to do what is right.”
“For whom?” Philippa asked.
He paused.
“For everyone.”
“That is not an answer,” she said. “It never has been.”
“You sound older than your years.”
“I have had a great deal of practice watching you,” Philippa replied. “You have been different since you became duke. It is as though you believe there is no room for error anymore.”
“There is not.”
“There is,” she insisted. “You simply do not allow yourself to see it.”
George looked away.
“This marriage was meant to solve problems.”
“And now?” she asked.
“Now it has created others.”
“Because you care about her, yes?”
He said nothing. She nodded slowly.
