George shook his head, holding up one hand. “You do not need to apologize,” he told his friend firmly. “You are quite correct in what you stated. I did show an interest in Miss Seymour, and I confess that I was certainly eager to consider taking matters forward with her.”

  “Then why did you not?”

  Closing his eyes again, George tipped his head back and blew out a long breath, feeling shame climb up his spine, sending a flurry of heat into his face. “Because I allowed myself to be swayed by another,” he said, thinking of Lord Kerr, whom he had invited to the house party also. Opening his eyes, he saw Lord Haddington frown. “Not that such a thing is any sort of an excuse,” he said quickly, “for I am fully aware it was entirely my own selfish nature that encouraged me to set aside the regard that was building for Miss Seymour.” He passed a hand over his eyes, still filled with a sense of shame. “I thought I could enjoy my life as I pleased for some time yet, and convinced myself that my feelings were not of any great significance and that there was no need for me to find a suitable bride despite the feelings within my heart.”

  “So you chose to set your feelings aside in place of your own selfishness,” Lord Haddington said bluntly. “You would not be the first gentleman to do so.”

  George shook his head, not wanting to even attempt to make himself feel better in any way. He might not be the first gentleman to behave in such a manner, but that did not detract from his spiraling sense of remorse.

  “It feels as though I have pushed Miss Seymour all the further away,” George finished with a heavy heart. “I will tell you of this also, even though it only adds to my shame, but I was speaking of this desire to live as I pleased, to push away my inclination toward Miss Seymour, and was, in fact, proudly boasting about my decision, such as it was.” He winced, feeling as though he were confessing his sins aloud but knowing it was best for him to share all that he had done thus far. “When I turned my head, I saw that Miss Seymour was present, having overheard a good deal of what I had said.”

  Lord Haddington lifted one eyebrow, but said nothing, keeping his own counsel for the present.

  “I cannot imagine what she must be feeling, having heard me declare such a thing only now to be engaged to Miss Lewisham,” George finished, his gut twisting. “Mayhap, within my own heart, that is what has kept me from speaking to her—and to you all—about what has happened.”

  Lord Haddington let out a long breath, his brow still lifted as he looked at George. George had no choice but to wait for judgment to fall, his breath rattling out of him, his fingers tense as they clutched the arms of his chair.

  “I do not pretend to know Miss Seymour well,” Lord Haddington said quietly, his words slow and chosen carefully, “but she is a gentle soul who has endured nothing but indifference and displeasure from her own father. From what I know, she is in a difficult bind herself at present...” Trailing off, Lord Haddington frowned suddenly, stopping himself. “But I will not say more on that, for it is her right to tell whoever she chooses about such things.”

  George frowned also, a concern for Miss Seymour rising in his mind, for she had never said anything about a difficult situation with her father, but perhaps she had felt no need to do so, considering that they had not enjoyed a particularly long acquaintance. What was it that troubled her now and was he the cause of it? Mayhap her father had thought him eagerly interested in his daughter and, as such, had been hoping for a courtship. With his swift departure from London, had Miss Seymour’s father decided that his absence had been his daughter’s fault?

  “My reason for saying such things is so that you are aware her heart has already been injured a good deal and thereafter to beg you not to do any more to harm her.”

  Guilt swarmed over George like a thousand buzzing bees. He dropped his head into his hands, aware that he had already injured Miss Seymour a good deal. “I will take great care,” he promised, his eyes fixed to the floor. “What a great fool I have been.”

  Walking toward the drawing room, with Lord Haddington having already gone ahead in order to give George a little more time to think on what he was to say, George took slow steps, his brow furrowed and his eyes downcast. What Lord Haddington had said about Miss Seymour had brought him a good deal of strife, realizing just how little he knew of her circumstances and feeling a surge of protectiveness toward her. It shamed him to think of just how easily he had managed to push such feelings aside, how selfish and arrogant he had been in deciding to pursue his own pleasures rather than what might have been with Miss Seymour.

  “Oh, excuse me.”

  George stumbled back as the object of his thoughts suddenly opened a door to his left, with the door itself almost catching his arm. For a moment, Miss Seymour’s mouth opened and closed with no sound coming from her, only for him to see a small flash of amusement in her eyes.

  “I do apologize, Miss Seymour,” he said with a quick bow. “Are you on your way to the drawing room?”

  She nodded, her cheeks now a little pink. “I am,” she told him, dropping her head, “but I appear to have become a little lost.”

  He watched her for a long moment, his heart stirring within him as he remembered how close a friendship they had begun to build between them only a few weeks before.

  “I—I would be glad to show you,” he stammered, a little awkwardly. “It is just along here and I…” Closing his eyes for a moment, he winced. “Miss Seymour, there is a tension between us which I am certain that you yourself feel.”

  “That is quite true,” came the gentle voice of Miss Seymour. “You are clearly not unaware of it yourself.”

  Opening his eyes, George let out his breath quickly and began to speak, not wanting to miss the opportunity to tell her what was now on his mind now that he had spoken to Lord Haddington.

  “I cannot imagine what you must think of me,” he said, the words coming out of him in a rush. “First to overhear my arrogance and pride in stating that I had decided to do nothing but enjoy myself this Season, and then to hear that I am, in fact, betrothed…” His words came to a stop and he looked wretchedly at Miss Seymour, his heart burning with pain as he saw the way her eyes filled with tears. “I have hurt you enormously, Miss Seymour, I know, and for you to come to my estate, willing to assist in the preparations for the house party, is more than I deserve.”

  She swallowed and looked away, but he still heard her shaky intake of breath. He wanted to cry out to her again but instead said nothing, keeping his mouth closed so that she would not think he was making excuses for what had been a great deal of wrongdoing.

  “I am not here solely for your benefit, Lord Bentham,” she said without looking at him. “Do not be under any illusion.”

  “I am not,” he said hoarsely, more than aware that The Shadows would have convinced her to attend. “This must be very difficult for you.”

  Her gray eyes clouded, and she looked up at him, tilting her head just a fraction. Her brows lowered, a line forming between her eyes as she studied him. George did not know what to say or what to do, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

  “Why did you say such things?”

  Her question astonished him and it took George a few minutes to realize what she was waiting for. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, he saw Miss Seymour fold her arms, as if protecting herself from whatever it was that would come from him.

  “I have nothing to give you but the truth,” he said softly, lowering his eyes. “It was a decision I made solely for what I believed was my own benefit. I did not want to think about securing a wife, with one of my friends convincing me that I did not need to dwell on any feelings or the like at present.” Again, he lifted his shoulders, spreading his hands wide. “And like a fool, Miss Seymour, I believed him and chose to do what I wanted without consideration for my feelings and those of your own.”

  Miss Seymour hesitated for a moment, then let out a long breath. “I see,” she said, rather dully. “And yet now you are betrothed?”

  “That is precisely what I wished to explain to you,” he said at once, relieved that she had brought the matter up. “I am not betrothed because I wish to be but rather because I have no other choice but to be so.” He saw her brow flicker with a frown although she said nothing. “I would tell it to you now, if you so wish?”

  Miss Seymour hesitated again and she looked away. “Are you to speak of this to The Shadows?” she asked softly, clearly worried that such a thing might be inappropriate for her to hear on her own. “I should not like to be the only one with additional knowledge at what is already a rather difficult time.”

  He nodded and swallowed hard, trying to explain. “I will tell everyone,” he said with a shrug, “if I have to. But I should like to explain to you first, Miss Seymour.”

  Again, she looked at him for a few moments before giving him the tiniest of nods, her eyes still darting from here to there and never quite managing to linger on his face. George, his stomach swirling with a sudden anxiety, cleared his throat gruffly and began to speak.

  “First of all, I will say that I regret all that you overheard,” he began, seeing the immediate slight narrowing of Miss Seymour’s eyes. “Not that I am merely sorry that you overheard it, but I truly am sorry for even stating it.” He rubbed at his forehead with his knuckles, trying to find the right words to tell her the truth without making himself sound righteous and arrogant. “I have realized, with what has occurred, that I was nothing more than selfish. I convinced myself that I did not want to think of a steady future with a wife and an heir and that I could push aside such feelings in order to revel in the enjoyment of the Season.” He swallowed hard, aware of the sensation of his heart being slowly exposed to Miss Seymour, the painful ripping of all that he had kept hidden away. “How foolish I have been, Miss Seymour.”

  Again, Miss Seymour said nothing. Her gaze remained narrowed, her eyes sparkling with silver and dancing with both curiosity and uncertainty. Her arms were folded over her chest, protecting herself from him, considering him still to be some sort of enemy.

  “Lord Greene—the uncle to Miss Lewisham—appeared at my door one afternoon, when I was expecting Lord Kerr,” George continued, somewhat hoarsely. “He told me that there is an agreement between our families, made by Miss Lewisham’s late father and my own. I did not know anything of it, but the papers were duly produced and it appears that he is quite correct.” He swallowed. “The only thing that is lacking is my father’s seal, which the current Lord Greene states he is certain I will find on my own papers, once I discover them.”

  Miss Seymour took in a sharp intake of breath at this, her eyes widening and her hands falling to her sides. There was no color in her cheeks now, nothing but sheer astonishment at what he had told her.

  “If I discover the papers and they bear no seal, then I have every right to state that I cannot be held to the agreement. But if it is present with a signature and seal, then… then I am obliged to do as is required,” he confirmed, a heavy weight sitting on his shoulders.

  “And could not Lord Greene merely have added his late brother’s seal at a later date?” Miss Seymour asked, her voice unsteady. “Could it be falsified?”

  He shook his head, wishing it could be so. “The seal is clearly old,” he said regretfully. “If it were new, it would be very easy to see.” Letting out another long breath, he gestured hopelessly. “Miss Lewisham was expected to wed me within a few months of her mourning period coming to an end.”

  Miss Seymour blinked rapidly, one hand now pressed against her chest. Her eyes were wide and she was staring at him in disbelief.

  “As the betrothal arrangement was not known by her uncle until this moment, a good time after her mourning period has ended, I am still expected to continue on as has been arranged.”

  “But how can this be?” Miss Seymour asked, reaching out and, much to his surprise, one hand grasping his arm. “How can you not have known anything about your own engagement?”

  She was standing closer to him now, and rather than quietening his anxious heart, her nearness served only to draw it to a galloping pace. For a moment, he forgot what it was she had asked of him, only to see her frown return and thus forced himself to gather his thoughts.

  “I knew nothing of it because my father never spoke of it to me,” he said as honestly as he could. “Nor my mother. My father was, as you might recall, taken from this earth rather swiftly, with no suggestion of illness and the like.” His chest felt heavy as his mind brought back the memory of how his father had died clutching at his chest, gasping about the pain in his heart. “Lord Greene has stated that there is a copy of these papers here, that my father had them also. I have every intention of finding these papers, for I must know for certain whether or not this is the truth of what my father desired for me.”

  After such a long speech, George felt quite worn out. Miss Seymour still had her hand on his arm, still looked up at him in astonishment, but he could find no words to say that would add anything to what he had already explained. Instead, he simply looked into her eyes, almost able to sense how her mind was working through all that he had said, in an attempt to straighten it out completely and fully understand it.

  “Goodness.”

  Miss Seymour let out a long breath, her hand loosening on his arm and her head dropping just a little, so that her eyes were fixed on something just over his right shoulder. George lifted his hand and placed it on hers, wanting to give a little comfort as well as take some from her in return.

  “It is rather overwhelming, I confess,” he said, a little darkly. “But what else can I do but find these papers? My father clearly had a reason for his choice, and I must—”

  “But this is extraordinary,” Miss Seymour interrupted, her eyes suddenly ablaze with excitement—an excitement he could not even begin to understand—and her hand tightening under his. “Goodness, Lord Bentham, this changes everything. We must speak to the others at once!”

  She made to turn and tug him along the hallway, but George refused to be moved. Standing steadfastly, he waited until she turned back toward him, his brow lowering as he watched her, unable to fathom the reason for her exuberance in the face of this otherwise desperate situation.

  “I do not understand, Miss Seymour,” he told her, his breath coming quickly as she came back toward him, her eyes still bright and a small smile catching the corners of her mouth. “I have told you everything and confessed to you that I am engaged to a lady I know nothing about and have no wish to know, and you react with delight?” A small stab of hurt pierced his heart, even though he knew he had no right to feel any such thing. “Surely you cannot be glad that this situation is upon me, even though I have behaved cruelly toward you.”

  Miss Seymour searched his face, her smile fading and the light disappearing from her eyes. “I should hope that you know me better than that, Lord Bentham,” she said with a ring of reproof in her words. “I have never delighted in anyone’s situation when it is as difficult as this.” Her lips twisted and lines marred her brow. “Do you truly think that I would be so cruel?”

  George let out his breath in a whoosh, aware that, yet again, he had brought pain to Miss Seymour without intention. “You are quite right, Miss Seymour,” he said, suddenly realizing that he was still holding her hand, that her fingers were tight in his own. Heat began to spiral up his arm as he glanced down at their joined hands, wondering if this meant as much to her as it did to him at this present moment. “I do know you to be a kind and gentle soul, who has not even a trace of cruelty within her.” He bowed over her hand as he had done so before, only to drop a kiss to her skin, unable to prevent himself from doing so. The touch of his lips on her skin made her start, but much to his relief, she did not let go.

  “This must be greatly confusing to you, Lord Bentham, but I assure you that if you come with me and tell The Shadows all that you have told me, then this matter can be much more easily resolved than you might think. Unless…” The lines in her forehead deepened as she frowned, her hand pulling slowly from his. “Unless, of course, you do, in fact, wish to marry her?”

  George’s reaction was immediate. “No, no!” he exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “No, indeed, I have no intention of continuing with this marriage, such as it is. I do not want to marry Miss Lewisham.” Reaching out one hand toward her, he tried to fill his voice with as much conviction as he could. “I swear to you, Miss Seymour, I want none other than you, even though I believe it would now be quite impossible.”

  These sweet words did not appear to have much of an impact on Miss Seymour for she did not put out her hand to him, her mouth in a firm line. She was not ready to hear anything such as that from him, he realized, not yet when there had already been too much said. The urge to tell her that he realized just how much of a mistake he had made had been deep within himself, but it had been spoken too early, making him feel rather foolish.

  “Might I suggest that we go at once to where the others are, Lord Bentham,” Miss Seymour said with a firmness that took him aback. “They will need to hear it from you at once. As you said yourself, there is more to this situation than there first appears. Only this time, it is you who does not know it.”

  George, rather nonplussed, gave a jerk of his head and began to stride down the hallway, leaving her to follow behind. The moment they had shared where she had taken his hand and looked into his eyes was gone, already fading away like an early morning mist. Whatever it was that Miss Seymour wanted to share with The Shadows, whatever difference it would make, he would do as she asked without question. Perhaps later there would come an opportunity for them both to talk a little more, although what good it would do, he could not say. George felt his spirits sink a little lower as he continued along the hallway, realizing that no matter what he felt, he would have to marry Miss Lewisham unless something happened that could allow him to cry off without any smudging of her reputation. It had been ridiculous for him to make such a declaration to Miss Seymour without thinking of the situation he was currently in.