Page 100 of A Queen's Match
May knew everyone in the room had heard him speak Hélène’s name, clear as day. No one mentioned it toher,of course, but she suspected they were all writing it in letters to various family members, wondering exactly what drama had played out behind closed doors.
“You shouldn’t feel guilty for being friendly with me,” she added. Though she hoped he would want to be more than friendly.
George’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t feel guilty. I blameyoufor manipulating me, just as you’ve done to everyone else.”
May was so startled that she tripped. George didn’t hold out a hand to help her.
When she righted herself, May looked him in the eye. “I never manipulated you. I meant every word I ever told you.”
“Of course you would say that. From what I’ve heard, you’re a liar—”
“I love you!”
She hadn’t meant to blurt that out. May knew it was a terrible mistake, knew that it was too soon after his brother’s death to be talking of romance. But now that she’d admitted the truth, she found that she couldn’t stop.
She had been silent for too long, burying her feelings for George down deep. Suddenly, she couldn’t bear the thought of him not knowing the truth.
“I love you,” she said again. “I have loved you for so long, George. Since the open-air market at Osborne, when you gave me the mayflower. No, since last summer, when we were together at Balmoral—or even since we were children! I can’t pinpoint an exact moment,” she added helplessly. “All I know is that I love you. I love your smile, and your generousheart, and your stubborn pride. It’s a bit like mine, you know. I love that you make me want to be a better person. You make me want to deserve you.”
They had reached a walled garden with an obelisk at its center, a grand marble thing with gilded numbers on its face. The flowerbeds, bordered in low limestone bricks, were iced over with frost.
May held her breath and waited.
“I won’t lie; for so long I hoped to hear you say those words,” George told her at last. “Now I don’t know whether to believe them.”
“Of course you can believe them! Like I said, Eddy and I should never have gotten engaged. I only wanted to because I thought you and I—I thought Missy…”
“Is it true, what you did?” George asked quietly.
“Missy’s marriage is not my fault!” May protested. “All I did was tell Aunt Vicky that Prince Ferdinand had flirted with her! I can’t be blamed for recounting a simple story!”
George went very still, and May instantly realized her mistake. She should not have confessed. Not without knowing what she’d been accused of.
She placed a gloved hand on his arm, tentative. “Please, just let me explain.”
George stepped back, shoving off her touch. “Explain what? That you manipulated and threatened your way into getting engaged to Eddy? I didn’t even know about Missy,” he said bitterly. “But it’s good to know how much cruelty you’re capable of.”
It felt like a vise was closing over May’s chest. “I made a few mistakes—”
“Mistakes? Is that what you would call it, spreading rumors about Alix? I’d call it slander.”
“I may have told a few people about the fainting spell I witnessed, yes. I was worried about Alix!” Worried she might marry Eddy, in truth, but George didn’t need to know everything. “There’s no crime in recounting a true fact.”
“What about Hélène? Did you blackmail her?” George demanded.
May longed to deny it, to dismiss the whole thing as a misunderstanding, but Eddy had clearly spoken to George before he died. She knew George might forgive her mistakes, but he would never forgive her for lying to his face.
“I didn’t write the letter, but I did know about it. A friend impersonated me. I only found out after the letter had already been sent.”
“If that’s true, why didn’t you tell Hélène to ignore it?” George pressed. “You were perfectly happy to let her leave the country, so that you could swoop in and convince Eddy that he wanted a marriage of convenience!”
Yes, he’d definitely spoken to his brother.
“And now Eddy is dead, and you’re claiming that you loved me the whole time? Are you going to make me the same offer you made my brother? Tell me that I can sleep with anyone I want and you’ll never hold it against me?”
May stood up a little straighter, hands clenched. “I shouldn’t think I need to. You are not like him.”
“No, I’m not,” George agreed, in a caustic tone. “I’m just the younger brother, the one you flirted with as a precautionary measure—a backup plan—in case things with Eddy didn’t work out.”
