that little bit of information, and gave a tiny shake of her head. A frown formed upon her lips. "George, you no doubt know more of the situation, and I applaud you for not revealing it all to me. I cannot imagine what this young lady has gone through, but it grieves me more to hear of her innocence and my heartlessness in assuming otherwise."
"Mother, my feelings for Miss Poleton—nay, Lady Romney—grow deeper and more eagerly real than even I was willing to acknowledge. I care for her, yet she does not desire to marry again. She wishes to hide herself away and protect those she loves, to buy a house and live alone forever.”
"She needs you, my son."
"Aye, she does. However, she is headstrong, and will require a lot of coaxing into seeing herself and all the good that she is."
"Will you forgive me, George?"
“Of course. I have found that life is not about what one's neighbor thinks of you, but how you are willing to think of another."
"This is the point where I mock you and say—do not repeat such nonsense again. Yet, I wonder, my boy, if you have not uncovered something much more kind and meaningful than society would have you believe. Can you imagine such charity? If we all stopped looking so outwardly? Why, all of London could become a much more joyful place."
"Ironically, I do not think this about London. No, I merely see the error of my ways and the cruelties of my words, thoughts, and actions. Because of me, there is an incredibly wonderful lady who feels less of herself than she should." He cleared his throat and let out a breath of air. "It makes me see life on a grander scale. A much less selfish scale, as well, for when would I have ever looked past my own broken heart to see hers?"
"Oh, George. You are deliberating very strongly on this, are you not?"
"My heart has thought of nothing else at the moment. It has struggled with this a fortnight at least. Truly, before she came back into my life, I only pitied myself and my loss of her. Never once did I worry about her and her existence and what horrors she must be facing." He suddenly stood up. "Mother, I am afraid to admit I was envious of the earl, but I could not look past my own egotism to see her fears and worries, or even how much she might have missed me and dreaded the decision she was forced to make."
He clutched the back of his chair. "To think that I might have protected her from the old man's folly, thus creating happiness for us both. To think that I was the only one in the position to do so. I cannot breathe, my heart clutches so painfully within me, when I think of what she endured because I was not a gentleman, merely a lad, and not mature enough to save her myself."
"Dearest, what could you have done?"
He shook his head. "Anything. Anything would have been better than to see how much she has faded and been lost. Yet, I did not know—I did not see what was right before me. I believed I was in love—but heartlessly, the only one I truly loved was myself."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:
Catherine walked into the grand ballroom of the Earl of Kettering's ball. It was dripping with floral arrangements and aglow with a thousand candles at least. Never had she seen such a sumptuous display of elegance. The crush of people was dressed beautifully for the occasion and added to the elegance all around. Everything was splendidly shining, shimmering, and beautiful.
She ran her gloved hands over her peach-colored gown and wondered for the tenth time that evening if she was presentable enough. Sophia had found the pattern in the latest fashion plate from Paris, and immediately sent out to have the modiste make it up for Catherine. Its several layers of thin flounces kept to the latest style, while creating a new and fun addition to the ballroom.
"You look beautiful." Sophia smiled. "Do not fidget so, for I can guarantee no one else is being noticed quite as much as you are."
She straightened. "I am not overly fidgeting, am I?"
"Any
"Mother, my feelings for Miss Poleton—nay, Lady Romney—grow deeper and more eagerly real than even I was willing to acknowledge. I care for her, yet she does not desire to marry again. She wishes to hide herself away and protect those she loves, to buy a house and live alone forever.”
"She needs you, my son."
"Aye, she does. However, she is headstrong, and will require a lot of coaxing into seeing herself and all the good that she is."
"Will you forgive me, George?"
“Of course. I have found that life is not about what one's neighbor thinks of you, but how you are willing to think of another."
"This is the point where I mock you and say—do not repeat such nonsense again. Yet, I wonder, my boy, if you have not uncovered something much more kind and meaningful than society would have you believe. Can you imagine such charity? If we all stopped looking so outwardly? Why, all of London could become a much more joyful place."
"Ironically, I do not think this about London. No, I merely see the error of my ways and the cruelties of my words, thoughts, and actions. Because of me, there is an incredibly wonderful lady who feels less of herself than she should." He cleared his throat and let out a breath of air. "It makes me see life on a grander scale. A much less selfish scale, as well, for when would I have ever looked past my own broken heart to see hers?"
"Oh, George. You are deliberating very strongly on this, are you not?"
"My heart has thought of nothing else at the moment. It has struggled with this a fortnight at least. Truly, before she came back into my life, I only pitied myself and my loss of her. Never once did I worry about her and her existence and what horrors she must be facing." He suddenly stood up. "Mother, I am afraid to admit I was envious of the earl, but I could not look past my own egotism to see her fears and worries, or even how much she might have missed me and dreaded the decision she was forced to make."
He clutched the back of his chair. "To think that I might have protected her from the old man's folly, thus creating happiness for us both. To think that I was the only one in the position to do so. I cannot breathe, my heart clutches so painfully within me, when I think of what she endured because I was not a gentleman, merely a lad, and not mature enough to save her myself."
"Dearest, what could you have done?"
He shook his head. "Anything. Anything would have been better than to see how much she has faded and been lost. Yet, I did not know—I did not see what was right before me. I believed I was in love—but heartlessly, the only one I truly loved was myself."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:
Catherine walked into the grand ballroom of the Earl of Kettering's ball. It was dripping with floral arrangements and aglow with a thousand candles at least. Never had she seen such a sumptuous display of elegance. The crush of people was dressed beautifully for the occasion and added to the elegance all around. Everything was splendidly shining, shimmering, and beautiful.
She ran her gloved hands over her peach-colored gown and wondered for the tenth time that evening if she was presentable enough. Sophia had found the pattern in the latest fashion plate from Paris, and immediately sent out to have the modiste make it up for Catherine. Its several layers of thin flounces kept to the latest style, while creating a new and fun addition to the ballroom.
"You look beautiful." Sophia smiled. "Do not fidget so, for I can guarantee no one else is being noticed quite as much as you are."
She straightened. "I am not overly fidgeting, am I?"
"Any
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