“I always did say you were the wisest of my brothers.”
He simply nodded.
She took a deep, fortifying breath. “Is George terribly upset with me?”
“He is worried about you. Go put the poor man—and the rest of us along with him—out of our collective misery.” He set her away from him, but held her gaze. “And be happy, Caroline. Promise me you will be happy.”
“Will you be?”
His usual smile returned. “When have you ever known me not to be?”
The bravado fell a bit flat, however. She’d heard very real sadness in his voice as he’d admitted to his terribly slim chances of finding his own domestic happiness. She kissed his cheek, as she’d done with him and father and Tom ever since she was a little girl.
“You are the very best of brothers.” She prayed he could hear and see her sincerity.
“I know. Now go find poor George. He needs your reassurance far more than I do.”
She took a moment to give her brother another hug. He shooed her off with a feigned show of annoyance.
Caroline searched the library, the gardens, the sitting room. She even peeked about the stables and orchard. She could find no sign of George. Where could he have gone off to? Just when she had managed to convince herself that he was off grouse shooting with Tom, she found her brother in the billiards room, alone.
“Have you seen George?” she asked.
Tom lined up a shot. “He left this morning for Shropshire to fetch his mother and bring her back for the ball.”
“He is gone?” She had not anticipated that. “But, why did he not bid us farewell?”
“He did. But you were moping in your room and he didn’t wish to impose.”
“I was not—” Actually, she had been moping a little. And, it seemed, she had pushed him away in the process. “How long do you suspect he will be gone?”
Tom sent balls flying with a thrust of his cue. “Couldn’t say. He’ll be back for the ball, I suspect.”
“Did he seem terribly upset when he left?”
“I don’t know.” Tom never had been as helpful as Edward. “He’s never in good spirits when faced with his mother. She’s a bit of a harridan, you know.”
“I know.” Everyone knew, in fact. “But he is returning for the ball, is he not?”
“I’d wager he is.” Tom didn’t look up from his game. Indeed, he had hardly acknowledged her throughout their conversation.
“Are you upset with me?”
“Everyone is upset with you, Caroline. You are making George miserable, and none of us likes it.” He took another shot. As the balls rolled to their new destinations, he looked at her at last. “But George made us solemnly vow to be patient with you or else he’d pummel the lot of us when he returned. We, being intelligent, believe him.”
How very like George. And how very like her to have never seen more in his fiery defense of her than staid friendship.
“Odd that the first smile I’ve seen from you in ages comes upon hearing that your brothers’ well-being has been threatened.” Despite his protest, Tom sounded amused.
“I was only thinking how often George has been my champion.”
“The poor bloke loves you, for all the good it’s doing him.” Tom set his billiard cue in the rack on the wall. “You’re torturing him, you know.”
“That has very recently been brought to my attention.” She did mean to try harder to sort out her very jumbled feelings. But she’d meant to do so with George there. He would have listened, and understood. He would have held her hand as she struggled.
Good, kind George. Lovely, wonderful George.
HerGeorge.
