Georgette, unable to bear his grief, and yet with no words of comfort she could find, simply walked across the room towards him. At that moment, it mattered not that he was a Duke and she a governess. How could that matter when he was simply a human being in pain? And how could she stand by and watch him suffering alone without offering him at least some comfort?
The moment she stood before him, Georgette reached up and wrapped her arms about his shoulders. He stood stiffly for a moment as if unsure what he should do, and she realized that he had been alone for so long with his unspoken grief that he was lost.
Still, she did not lessen her embrace; she did not give up. Finally, after some moments, she felt him relax. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. They stood just as they had when he had comforted her so many weeks before. And yet this was different; something had changed between them, despite their great differences.
And Georgette knew that she had fallen in love with him, in spite of her own good sense. As she held him, she knew that she would have given anything in the world to ease his suffering, and yet she felt dreadfully sure that it could, in truth, never be eased.
Chapter 25
Although the early autumn evening had seen the sun go down so much earlier, still she could make out the handsome figure of the Duke as he climbed into his carriage.
Although she could not see the colour of his clothing exactly, she could see that it was dark. The way the tailcoat and waistcoat fit him to perfection made Georgette rather suspect it was the brown outfit he often wore for church. The brown outfit which made his blond hair and blue eyes ever more attractive; ever more handsome.
She knew without a doubt that he was, quite clearly, heading over to Winterbourne to share a meal with his Aunt Cynthia and Lady Louisa Wimborne. Whilst she herself had not been into the dining room at Winterbourne, only the drawing room, still Georgette thought it very likely to be a warm and welcoming place. Perhaps it was the sort of place where people could relax, just as she had done on her visit to Lady Cynthia.
Perhaps even the Duke himself would relax and find himself better disposed to the company of the beautiful Lady Louisa. Georgette sighed heavily, knowing well that she was simply torturing herself. It had been several days since she had been in a position to console the man she had come to love and, in all that time, she had not seen him once. They had not crossed paths in the corridors which led her to suspect that he was not frequenting his study which was just a few doors away from the schoolroom.
Of course, on that first day, Georgette had been rather relieved not to see him anywhere. Despite the fact that he had returned her embrace and been so very honest with her, still, she felt sure that there would be a certain amount of awkwardness between them. Although she knew that such awkwardness could not last and would not change her feelings for him in any way, still she needed that first day to get everything in order in her mind and heart.
Georgette had felt herself to be in something of a spin; elated at their closeness one minute, terrified of his ultimate rejection the next. Added to the fact that she had barely slept for the myriad of thoughts which bounded unbidden across her mind, she felt hardly equal to the task of greeting him on that first day.
However, at the end of the second day, when still she had not seen him, her mind began to frustrate her in other ways. Georgette quite tortured herself with the idea that the Duke, thinking better of his show of emotion in front of the governess, had decided to stay very well clear of her. After all, it was rare for him not to spend a good deal of each day in his study.
And then, by the end of the third day, Georgette was quite convinced. The Duke clearly regretted his moment of weakness and the truths he had told her. No doubt he regretted responding to her display of physical comfort and was now quite convinced that the young lady would be harbouring the most ridiculous of dreams on its account.
And of course, that was quite true. But it was not a fairytale in Georgette’s heart; quite the opposite.
She did not wish to marry the handsome Duke and rather wished that he was anything but. If only he could have been another man, someone of a much-reduced status. Then the love that she felt for him swirling in her own breast would have held distinct possibilities. As it was, the love was to be a painful one, for she knew that it would remain unrequited. And how could it be anything other?
And so it was, as she watched him from the window, his handsome and sturdy frame climbing into the carriage which would carry him off to meet the beautiful Lady Louisa, that Georgette found herself having to blink hard at tears of sadness, frustration, and unfairness.