BECAUSE MISS "BRIDGERTON"

chapter 19

MANSTON HOUSE WAS QUIET when George returned that night. The vestibule is illuminated by two chandeliers, but the rest of the room appears to have been closed for the night. It cringes. It's not too late yet; surely someone is still awake.

“Ah, Temperley,” said George as his butler advanced to take his hat and coat, “what did my mother go tonight?”

“Lady Manston has her dinner delivered to her room, My Lord,” Temperley said.

“And Miss Bridgerton?”

“I think he's the same.”

“Oh.” George should not be disappointed. After all, he had spent most of the past few days avoiding the two women. Now it seems they did it for him.

“Do you want your dinner also shipped to the top, My Lord?”

George thought about it for a while, then said, “Why not?” It seemed like no one would accompany him that night, and he did not eat much at Lord Arbuthnot's banquet.

Must be because of that dry smoked fish. Really, the smell made him want to skip the whole meal.

“Do you want to enjoy brandy in the sitting room first?” ask Temperley.

“No, I'll go straight up, I guess. Today is very tiring.”

Temperley nodded in a typical butler manner. “So also for all of us, My Lord.”

George watched her with a sour expression. “Did my mom make you work hard, Temperley?”

“Not at all,” replied the butler, a faint smile cracking his serious face. “What I mean are those two women. If I can be presumptuous and offer observation, they seem to look tired upon returning this afternoon. Especially Miss Bridgerton.”

“I'm afraid my mom has made her work hard,” kara George half-smile.

“Persis once, My Lord. Lady Manston was never as happy when she had a young woman to marry.”

George was stunned, then covered it with excessive attention to take off both of his gloves. “It seems a bit ambitious, considering Miss Bridgerton does not plan on staying in town for Season.”

Temperley. “There are many parcels arriving.”

It was her way of saying that every single thing a young woman needed to succeed through the matchmaking market in London had been bought and delivered.

“I'm sure Miss Bridgerton will find success,” said George calmly.

“She's a very excited young lady,” Temperley approves.

George smiled stiffly as he walked away. It was hard to imagine Temperley concluding that Billie was full of vigor. Several times George met her at the Manston House the girl looked grim not as usual.

He thought maybe he should have tried more, taking Billie to go buy ice or something, but he was too busy hunting for information at the War Office. It felt so relieved to be able to do something instead, even if the results were disappointing.

George stepped up the stairs, then stopped and turned around. Temperley did not move.

“I always thought my mother was expecting a match between Miss Bridgerton and Edward,” she said casually.

“He didn't feel the need to tell me,” Temperley said.

“No, of course not,” says George. He shook little. How powerful has fallen. He had descended to the point of provoking gossip from the butler. “Goodnight, Temperley.”

George walked towards the stairs, his feet landing on the first rung, when his butler said, “They are indeed talking about Master Edward.”

George turned.

Temperley. “I don't think it's a secret breach to tell you that they talked about it at breakfast.”

“No,” says George. “Not at all.”

There's a long pause.

“We save Master Edward in our prayers,” Temperley finally says. “We all miss him.”

Thas right. Though what can be said about George if he misses Edward more now than when they were only separated by the ocean?

Slowly he climbed the stairs. The Manston House is much smaller than the Crake, with eight bedrooms clustered on one floor. Billie was put in the bedroom of the second best guest, which George thought was laughable, but his mother always insisted on keeping the bedroom of the best guest empty. You never know who might come unexpectedly, he always said.

Had the King stopped by here, George always retaliated. Usually this made him accept the whimper. And smile. Her mother has always been sporty like that, even if the best room has been empty for the past twenty years.

George stopped in the middle of the hallway, not right in front of Billie's door but closer to it than to any other room. There was enough slit under the door to show a faint flickering of candlelight. He wondered what Billie was doing in there. It is too early to sleep.

He missed Billie.

It came with a moment and surprise. She missed. He was here, in the same house, sleeping only three doors from Billie's room, and he missed the girl.

It's George's own fault. He knew he was avoiding the girl. But what should he do? He had kissed Billie, kissed her to the point of almost losing his mind, and now he was expected to make a polite conversation with the girl at the breakfast table? In front of her mother?

George will never be that sophisticated.

He should have married Billie. He thought he would like it, no matter how crazy it might feel a month before. He started to like the idea at Crake. Billie says “you don't need to marry me,” and all George can think of is—

But I can do it.

He only had a minute with the idea. There is no time to think or analyze, only time to feel.

And it feels good. Warm.

Like spring.

But then her mother arrived on the scene and started telling her how sweet Edward and Billie looked together and how perfect they were as a couple. As a result George could not remember anything else unless it was so sweet it was sickening and according to Temperley it was perfect for breakfast toast and orange jam.

Baked bread and jam. George shakes. He's an idiot.

And he fell in love with Billie Bridgerton.

Therehewas. So simple. George almost laughed. He would have laughed, if the joke wasn't about him.

If he falls in love with someone else—someone new, whose presence is not so full in his memory—what would be so clear? With Billie his emotions were so opposite, so different from a lifetime comparing the girl to the pebbles in her shoes. George always saw it, shining in his mind like a promise that shone brightly.

Is Billie in love with Edward? Might as well. George's mother seemed to think that way. Her mother did not say much, of course, but the woman had an amazing talent in making sure her opinion was known without saying it explicitly.

Still, it was enough to drive George crazy out of jealousy.

Falling in love with Billie. That's the craziest thing.

He exhaled a long-held breath and began to walk again towards his room. He must pass through Billie's door, past a flashing flicker of light. His steps slowed down, because he could not help it.

Then the door opens.

“George?” Billie's face peeked out. The girl was still wearing her dress but her hair was already removed, placed on the shoulder in a long and thick braid. “I thought I heard someone,” he explained.

George managed to smile without opening his mouth while bowing in respect. “As you can see.”

“I was having dinner,” said Billie, pointing into the room. “Your mom is tired.” She smiled shyly. “I'm tired. I'm not very good at shopping. I had absolutely no idea it involved so much standing still.”

“Standing is always more tiring than walking.”

“True!” sahut Billie cheerful. “I always say it.”

George began to speak, but then a memory sprinkled in his mind. When he holds Billie, after a disaster with a cat on the roof. Just then he tried to describe the strange feeling when his legs suddenly limp and bend for no reason.

Billie understood it.

The irony is George's legs don't squeeze. He used it to cover things up. He doesn't remember what it is.

But he remembered the moment. He remembered that Billie understood.

Mostly George recalled how Billie looked at him, with a small smile that said the girl was happy understandable.

George looks. Billie observed him with a faint hopeful expression. Now it's his turn to speak, George remembered. And because he couldn't say what he was thinking, he chose the obvious.

“You're still wearing your dress,” she said.

Billie glanced at her dress briefly. That's the dress she was wearing when George kissed her. The flowers. The dress was appropriate for her. She should always wear a flower dress.

“I thought maybe I'd get off after I finished eating,” he said. “Maybe find something to read in the library.”

George nodded.

“My mom always says once someone puts on a sleeping coat, she should stay inside the room that night.”

George smiled. “Really?”

“He said a lot of things, actually. I'm sure I've forgotten whatever it was that I didn't ignore.”

George stood like a statue, knowing he should have said good night, but somehow he couldn't say it. It was too intimate, too perfect and beautiful in candlelight.

“Have you eaten?” ask Billie.

“Already. Well, not yet.” He thought of dried smoked fish. “Not really.”

Billie's eyebrows shot up. “It sounds interesting.”

“Same as no. I asked that the food tray be delivered to my room, actually. I always hate eating alone under.”

“I too,” Billie approve. He stood up for a while, then said. “Ham pie. Very good.”

“Very good.” George cleared his throat. “Well, I.. must go. Good night, Billie.”

George turned. He doesn't want to turn around.

“George, wait!”

He hated the fact that he was holding his breath.

“George, this is crazy.”

George turned. Billie was still standing at the entrance of her room, one hand lightly placed on the side of the door. His face is so expressive. Is it always like that?

Yeah, thought. Billie never hid her feelings behind the mask of indifference. That's one of the things George found so annoying from Billie as they grew up. The girl refused to be ignored.

Something completely different.

“Crazy?” reworked. I'm not sure what Billie meant. He doesn't want to make assumptions.

Billie's lips quivered as she tried to smile. “Surely we can be friends.”

A fella?

“I mean, I know..”.

“That I kissed you?” George helps.

Billie gasped, then hissed. “I wouldn't say it so bluntly. For God's sake, George, your mother is still awake.” And while the girl frantically looked down at the end of the hallway, George threw away the honorable man attitude he had been using for life and stepped into Billie's bedroom.

“George!”

“It looks like someone could whisper and scream at the same time,” he said amusedly.

“You can't be here,” Billie said.

George grinned as the girl closed the door. “I don't think you want to continue the conversation on the road.”

The gaze that Billie gave was sarcasm in its purest form. “I'm sure there are two sitting rooms and one library downstairs.”

“And see what happened last time we were in the sitting room together.”

Billie's face immediately flushed. But Billie was reliable, and after a while that seemed reserved for gritting his teeth and keeping himself calm, the girl asked, “Did you know anything about Edward?”

And as simple as that, George's carefree mood immediately deflated. “Nothing matters.”

“But something?” ask Billie expectantly.

He didn't want to talk about Edward. For so many reasons. But Billie was entitled to an answer, so George said, “Only estimates from retired generals.”

“I'm sorry. This must be very frustrating for you. I wish there was something I could do to help.” Billie advanced forward on the edge of the bed and looked up to see George frowning seriously. “It's hard not to do anything. I don't like that.”

George closed his eyes. And exhale through his nose. Again, they agreed.

“Sometimes I feel I should have been born a boy.”

“No.” George's response came out immediately and decisively.

Billie chuckled. “You're so good. I think you should say it after, well, you know.”.

George knows. But not enough.

“I would love to have Aubrey,” Billie said longingly. “I know every corner. I can tell you the name of each plant in each field, and the name of each tenant, and the birthday of half of them as well.”

George looked at her with a sigh. Billie is more than she's ever seen before.

“I will definitely be a great Viscount of Bridgerton.”

“Your sister will learn,” said George softly. He sat in a chair near the table. Billie wasn't sitting, but the girl wasn't standing either, and just being alone with the girl behind closed doors, according to George this wouldn't be a critical violation of decency.

“Oh, I know,” said Billie. “Edmund was very clever, in fact, when he was not acting annoyingly.”

“The age is fifteen years. He can't hold it.”

Billie gave him a mocking look. “If my memory is correct, you were already a god among humans when you were his age.”

George raised his eyebrows lazily. There were so many funny replies to the statement, but he decided to let it go and enjoy this moment of relaxed friendship.

“How can you hold it?” Billie asked.

“Hold what?”

“This.” Billie raised both her hands in surrender. “This helplessness.”

George sat up straight, gasping and focusing on Billie.

“You feel it, don't you?”

“I'm not sure I understand your point,” George muttered. But he felt he understood it.

“I know you wish you could be a soldier. I see it on your face every time your sisters talk about it.”

Is it that clear? George please not. But at the same time…

“George?”

He looked up.

“You are silent,” said Billie.

“I'm thinking..”

Billie smiled patiently, letting him think out loud.

“I didn't expect I could be a soldier.”

Billie was stunned, her shock feeling evident from the way her chin was stuck to the neck.

“My place is here,” says George.

Billie's eyes lit up with something that was probably a feeling of pride. “You sound like you just realized it.”

“No,” ponder George. “I always know it.”

“You didn't receive it before?” billie Urge.

George laughed wryly. “No, I obviously accept it. I just thought before I didn't let myself.” He looked up, straight into Billie's beautiful brown eyes and paused when he realized what he wanted to say. “I didn't let myself like it.”

“And now you like it?”

Call it quick and firm. “Yes. Otherwise—” George stops, correcting his speech. “If we don't care about the land and its people, why did Edward and Andrew fight?”

“If they will endanger their lives for King and Country,” said Billie gently, “we must make sure it's a good King and Country.”

Their gazes met, and Billie smiled. Vaguer. And they don't talk. Because they don't have to. Until finally Billie said, “They will soon be going up with your food,” he said.

George raised his eyebrows. “Are you trying to kick me out?”

“I tried to protect my reputation,” replied Billie. “And your reputation.”

“If you remember, I ask you to marry me.”

“No, you didn't ask,” Billie scoffed. “You said, ‘of course I will marry you’,” this pronounced Billie by imitating the voice of a sickly old woman with amazing—”not the same thing.”

George took it seriously. “I can kneel.”

“Stop teasing me, George. That's not a good action.” Billie's voice trembled, and George felt something squeezing through his chest. Her mouth was open, but Billie pushed herself from the edge of the bed and walked to the window, cross-legged while looking into the night.

“This is not something you can make a joke of,” he said, but Billie's words were pronounced awkwardly, clearly, and slowly, as if coming from somewhere inside her throat.

George quickly stood up. “Billie, I'm sorry. You should know I'll never—”

“You better go.”

George stop.

“You better go,” said Billie, this time stronger. “They will arrive with your dinner anytime.”

That's expulsion, obvious and reasonable. That's kindness, actually. Billie stopped him from making himself look stupid. If he wanted George to propose to him, wouldn't the girl take the bait he casually swung?

“Alright,” George bowed respectfully even though the girl was turning her back. He saw Billie nod, then left the room.

.

OH MY GOD, WHAT has Billie done?

George could have proposed to her. There and then too. George.

And Billie stopped him. Stopped him because—fucking, he doesn't know why. Had he not spent his days in the fog, wondering why he had dodged and how much he wanted the man to kiss him again?

Doesn't marriage ensure future kisses? Isn't that exactly what she needs to achieve her goal—which should be admittedly not appropriate for a respectable woman?

Yet George sat there, leaning leisurely against the chair by the table as if he had the place (which Billie felt was right, or rather, George would have), and so on, and he couldn't figure out if George meant it. Was that guy just teasing her? Trying to have a little fun? George was never cruel; he would not intentionally hurt Billie's feelings, but if he thought Billie thought the whole thing was a joke, then perhaps he felt allowed to treat her that way…

That's what Andrew would do. Not that Andrew would ever kiss her, or Billie would want the man to do it, but if for some reason they were making jokes about the wedding, he would definitely say something ludicrous about kneeling on one leg.

But with George, Billie had no idea if the man meant it. What if he answers yes? What if he said that he wanted the man to kneel on one leg and declare his loyalty forever…

And then find that guy was just joking?

His face was heating up just by thinking about it.

According to Billie the man would not flirt about such things. But this is George. He was the eldest son of the Earl of Manston, Lord Kennard. If he was going to propose to a lady, he wouldn't do it recklessly. She'll hold her ring, and she'll say poetic words, and she'll obviously not let Billie decide whether she should do it with her knees bent.

Which means he can't mean it, right? George will never be so unsure of himself.

Billie threw herself onto the bed, pressed her hands against her chest, trying to ease her racing heart. He used to hate it from George—the man's unwavering confidence. When they were little George always knew the best of them all. About everything. That's the most annoying thing, even if Billie now realizes with five years on top of them, maybe the guy does know better about everything. There was no way they could all catch up until they grew up.

And now he likes George's calm confidence. The man was never presumptuous, never arrogant. He's just. George.

And Billie loved him.

Billie loved her, AND—OH, OH MY GOD, SHE JUST STOPPED GEORGE FROM ASKING HER TO MARRY THE MAN.

What has he done?

And more importantly, how could he pull his words back?