Because of Miss Bridgerton

She didn’t think. She didn’t need to think. She just ran into the room and declared, “I’ll do it!”

George didn’t think. He didn’t need to think. “The hell you will,” he roared.

Billie froze for a moment, clearly not expecting this sort of reaction. Then she girded her shoulders and hurried in. “George,” she said entreatingly, “we’re talking about Edward. How can we not do everything —”

He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her aside. “You do not have all of the facts,” he hissed.

“I don’t need all the facts.”

“You never do,” he muttered.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I can do this,” she insisted.

Good God, she was going to be the death of him. “I’m sure you can, but you won’t.”

“But —”

“I forbid it.”

Billie drew back. “You forbid —”

That was the moment Arbuthnot sidled over. “I don’t think we were properly introduced last night,” he said with an avuncular smile. “I am Lord Arbuthnot. I —”

“Get out of my house,” George bit off.

“George!” Billie exclaimed, her face betraying her shock at his rudeness.

Arbuthnot turned to him with a thoughtful expression. “The lady appears to be quite resourceful. I think we could —”

“Get out!”

“George?” Now his mother appeared in the doorway. “What is all the yelling about? Oh, I’m sorry, Lord Arbuthnot. I did not see you there.”

“Lady Manston.” He bowed properly. “Forgive my early visit. I had business with your son.”

“He was just leaving,” George said, tightening his grip on Billie’s arm when she started to squirm.

“Let me go,” she ground out. “I might be able to help.”

“Or you might not.”

“Stop it,” she hissed, now pulling furiously. “You cannot order me about.”

“I assure you I can,” he shot back, his eyes burning down into hers. He was going to be her husband, for God’s sake. Did that not count for anything?

“But I want to help,” she said, lowering her voice as she turned her back on the rest of the room.

“So do I, but this is not the way.”

“It may be the only way.”

For a moment he could do nothing but close his eyes. Was this a taste of the rest of his life as Billie Bridgerton’s husband? Was he destined to live in terror, wondering what sort of danger she’d thrown herself into that day?

Was it worth it?

“George?” she whispered. She sounded uneasy. Had she seen something in his expression? A sign of doubt?

He touched her cheek, and he looked into her eyes.

He saw his whole world there.

“I love you,” he said.

Someone gasped. It might have been his mother.

“I cannot live without you,” he said, “and in fact, I refuse to do so. So no, you will not be going on some ill-advised mission to the coast to hand off a potentially dangerous package to people you don’t know. Because if anything happened to you…” His voice broke, but he didn’t care. “If anything happened to you, it would kill me. And I’d like to think you love me too much to let that happen.”

Billie stared at him in wonder, her softly parted lips trembling as she blinked back tears. “You love me?” she whispered.

He nearly rolled his eyes. “Of course I do.”

“You never said.”

“I must have done.”

“You didn’t. I would have remembered.”

“I would remember, too,” he said softly, “if you’d ever said it to me.”

“I love you,” she said immediately. “I do. I love you so much. I —”

“Thank God,” Lady Manston exclaimed.

George and Billie both turned. He didn’t know about Billie, but he’d quite forgotten they had an audience.

“Do you know how hard I’ve been working toward this? My word, I thought I was going to have to beat you with a stick.”

“You planned this?” George asked in disbelief.

She turned to Billie. “Sybilla? Really? When have I ever called you Sybilla?”

George looked over at Billie. She couldn’t seem to stop blinking.

“I have waited a long time to call you daughter,” Lady Manston said, tucking a lock of Billie’s hair behind her ear.

Billie frowned, her head moving from side to side as she tried to puzzle it all out. “But I always thought… you wanted Edward. Or Andrew.”

Lady Manston shook her head with a smile. “It was always George, my dear. In my mind, at least.” She looked over at her son with a considerably more focused expression. “You have asked her to marry you, I hope.”

“I might have demanded it,” he admitted.

“Even better.”

George suddenly straightened, glancing about the room. “What happened to Lord Arbuthnot?”

“He excused himself when the two of you started declaring your love,” his mother said.

Well, George thought. Maybe the old man had more discretion than he’d thought.