Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
Georgiana’s heart hammered in her chest as she slowly attempted to sit up, realizing only too late that she was sinking into a dreamy mattress.
“Easy now,” a calm voice said from beside her. “Easy. Yer safe.”
The room slowly came into focus, though the edges were still blurry.
“Ye scared us all, miss.”
She swallowed, willing her limbs to move, but her body still felt as though it were drifting miles away from her brain—her thoughts leaping hours ahead.
“I’ve some delicious broth for ye, straight from the kitchen. Now go on, open up.”
The sheets wrapped around her body, and she couldn’t move.
She had been standing in a room with Ellis only a moment ago. Or was it longer? She couldn’t be certain. But it wasn’t this room.
He had been furious with her. He hadn’t said as much, but she had been around anger long enough to recognize it, even when hidden.
“Where am I?” she finally asked, turning to face the older woman who sat beside her.
“Ye fainted, ye sweet creature. Crumbled right to the floor. If it weren’t for Lord Linfield, ye could have bashed yer pretty teeth in.”
The woman’s charcoal hair was tucked beneath a lace cap. Her narrow-set gray eyes blinked back at Georgiana, her thin lips stretching into a gentle smile. “Yer safe now. Have some soup,” the woman said gently, holding out the bowl.
Georgiana peered down at the broth, the spoon hovering in front of her mouth, then looked up into the kind woman’s eyes.
“Go on,” the woman urged.
Georgiana clutched the bedsheets in her hand and reluctantly opened her mouth, taking a sip of the soup.
“It was a busy day,” the woman continued, removing the spoon from Georgiana’s lips before dipping it into the bowl for another spoonful.
Georgiana opened her mouth again, letting the warm chicken broth dance upon her tongue. It might have been the most delicious thing she had ever tasted in her life.
It was strange, sitting there in bed, her mouth suddenly alive with the taste of soup while her heart raced in her ears, trying to stem the panic flooding through her body. She must have fainted when Ellis caught her, and yet—she never should have come here. She never should have thought she could save herself. It was just like that night long ago when, as a schoolgirl, he had pulled her out of the barn, banged on the door of her childhood home, and demanded entry, ensuring she was safe and warm.
Now, eight years later, it was no different.
She had stood on that stage, expecting someone to bid on her. And a few men had. But when Ellis stood in the doorway, her attention had swung to him immediately. He had moved through the room so effortlessly, so sure of himself when he bid on her. And maybe it had been her shame, but she truly hadn’t understood what he wanted from her when he approached her downstairs. She had assumed he meant to take what he had bought.
But of course, he hadn’t.
Ellis was better. He was always better than that.
She turned her head away as the woman lifted the next spoonful, staring out the window. But the day had faded, and the night was no shorter. Now autumn was setting in, and winter was on the cusp in London.
“Ye can call me Hester, miss,” the woman said.
Georgiana didn’t feel much like making a friend, though heaven knew she needed one. Sure, she had acquaintances in London, but it had been easier to remain alone. She hadn’t trusted her brother or father around any of the social set, and she had hardly been in it, even when they thrust her into a Season, determined to see her married to solve their money issues.
That hadn’t worked either.
“Ye need to eat, dear,” Hester insisted. “Let me help ye. Let him help ye, Georgie.” She swallowed hard before continuing, “He’s ‘ere to make sure ye’re cared for. Ye’ll do no one any good lying in a heap on the floor.”
Georgiana knew that. But she wouldn’t do anyone any good married to Ellis, either. What a ridiculous prospect.
She scoffed quietly to herself, peering up at the ceiling and laying her head back for a moment, letting the weight of the world’s problems wash over her. She had left Pickins House this morning, certain she was taking fate into her own hands, certain she would save herself. And once again, she found herself being saved by Ellis instead.
And though eight years had passed, she didn’t love him any less. But she would always be her brother’s little sister, Georgie. She couldn’t stomach being thought of that way, especially not by him.
“I’ll leave the bowl ‘ere then, dear,” Hester said. She reached over, her hand hovering above Georgie’s before patting the bed instead and standing. “I’m happy ye woke up, and ye’re well. I’m happy ye’re ‘ere. He’s a good man, dear. Protective to the core, that one is. Fight it if ye must, but I promise ye, he won’t give up. That I know of Lord Linfield.”
Hester left the room, leaving Georgiana alone. She stared at the bowl, then at the empty doorway, and back at her lap, letting the woman’s words sink in. It was almost as though Hester knew Ellis—knew him well, as if he were family. That only made Georgiana realize how little she knew of him now. Yes, she had seen him in London ballrooms from time to time. She hadn’t even read about his engagement in the papers—only written a letter and stored it away after she read of his fiancée’s early death.
Then there had been the years of not seeing him, of living with the ghost of him in London, always searching, always hoping, yet always feeling shameful by her own hopeless love for a man who had lost someone he loved dearly.
It was an impossible situation. She could never marry Ellis. She would always be a burden to him. And as Hester had said, he was protective to his core.
And Georgie loved him too much for him to play that role for her.
She set the bowl down, pushed herself to stand, and scanned the room for her clothes before a familiar figure filled the doorway.
Ellis took the stairs two at a time, finally able to peel himself away from the busy floor. The club was in good spirits and betting high after the auction. But none of that mattered when he had carried Lady Georgiana upstairs to a guest room to recover after fainting at his marriage proposal.
And now, he leaned against the doorframe to keep his disappointment in check. She wavered on her feet, digging through the small bag of hers set on the bed.
“Glad to see you’re awake,” he said coolly.
She spun, a shawl wrapped around her wrists as she was about to stuff it into her bag. “Hmm.”
“Have anything to eat?”
Georgiana’s eyebrows rose in confirmation before continuing, clearly set on leaving.
But he couldn’t allow that. Not now.
“Hester makes delicious soup.” He scratched his jaw, trying to hide his embarrassment at such a ridiculous statement. After losing Dinah, he’d kept to himself. Was never much interested in finding love again if one’s heart could break the way his had.
Still, he thought he could speak to a woman. Confusing why he was suddenly tongue-tied.
He stepped into the room, pausing to close the door behind him but then deciding to leave it open. Ellis didn’t wish to frighten her, and he had caught her flinching earlier when he approached her.
“Where are you going?”
She continued digging through her bag, her head bent with fierce focus. Long blonde hair draped over her shoulder, and her dress hanging loosely on her frame, unfastened.
“Georgie?”
She inhaled sharply, snapping her eyes up to his. Wild, startled, and such a breathtakingly deep hazel.
The very same eyes that had pierced his soul all those years ago when he pushed into Pickins House, demanding she be warmed up after being shut outside.
“Please, don’t call me that, Lord Linfield.”
He scoffed at that. “Are we to be so formal? Are you to be Lady Georgiana here? You just auctioned off your virtue to the highest bidder.”
“I did what I must, sir.” Her hands shook as she stopped and stepped away from the bed, her voice thin as the coupe glasses he had ordered from Perrin Geddes & Co. “And you won. Is that why you’ve returned?” She turned, moving her hair aside so he could access the fastenings to her dress. “Could you, please?”
His stomach tumbled.
She thought so little of him, then. He was half the mind to let her, but he was no villain, and he couldn’t allow her to return to what little waited for her at home. He had blindly done that for far too long.
“I don’t want to tup you, Kitten.”
She reached out, bracing herself on the headboard of the bed.
“I asked you to marry me.”
“I heard.”
“You fainted.”
“I had a busy morning.” She turned to face him, and he was struck at how very little she resembled the schoolgirl he remembered. Georgie was a woman, a sick woman who needed him, and damn it, he would see her safe if it was the last thing he did with his dying breath.
“Too distracted to eat?”
Georgiana shrugged, turning to lean her body against the bed. It was such a casual position filled with disinterest. But that didn’t explain her pulse racing at the base of her throat, or the sallow look to her face, and her thin limbs.
He sighed, tamping down the anger simmering within him. Once, he and Sam had reveled in reckless nights, wreaking havoc across London as if the world was theirs to squander. They were both sons of privilege, after all—Ellis was to inherit an earldom. But everything changed the day Ellis wandered foxed into an East End shop and fell hard for a beautiful shop girl. His father had insisted he marry a debutante and keep her as a mistress, but he refused and proposed to Dinah instead. His father had cut him off for that. He’d defied his family for love, willingly turning his back on privilege and nearly losing himself in the process. His ruin had been a choice, while Georgiana’s was thrust upon her, her future gambled away by the very family meant to protect her.
And now, Georgiana had stood on the stage of his damn club auctioning off her virtue to the highest bidder because she felt she had no other option.
“You don’t deserve that, Kitten. Being up there on stage for someone to judge you, to use you. Then what? If you don’t accept my proposal, where will you go?”
“I don’t understand why you bid on me if you never intended?—”
“You deserve better, and I can provide that. Let me. Marry me and I will keep you safe and fed and happy.”
“At a gentlemen’s club?”
“Better than some rookery or brothel. Or have you introduced yourself to the madam?”
She collapsed to the bed then, perched on the edge with her back straight and her eyes burning a hole in the wall across the room.
“That was…” He sighed. “That was cruel. I apologize.”
She nodded, sniffing and quickly wiping her eyes.
He bent down and pointed toward the door. “Your father, your brother… they are never going to find what they are searching for. They have gambled away fortunes four times over. And you know well enough your brother’s taste for women and gin has ruined him. Go back if you must, but you deserve more. And if you don’t believe that yet, I’ll tell you again.” He reached out, tentatively brushing his fingers against the underside of her chin to bring her eyes up to meet his. He pushed down the faint familiarity of her touch, the way it rippled across his skin, and a rush of desire chased up his spine.
No, not now. Not her. It could never be her.
“What?” she asked, licking her lips and peering up at him.
“I’ll tell you every damn day if you let me, Georgie. You deserve a warm roof over your head, delicious food in that stomach of yours, space and time for yourself, the ability to move through this world and be seen for the wonder that you are. Not a burden, never a burden. One day, you might even believe me. Until then, I’m asking you, marry me. Marry me and I will protect you.”
Tiredness washed over her features, but she didn’t withdraw from his touch, didn’t shrink at his words. But he hadn’t expected that. She was stubborn as the day was long, and she was resilient. She was the small violet defiantly blooming in the shadow of an East End factory.
That was Lady Georgiana Harland.
A brilliant, stubborn flower.
And she could be his if she allowed it.
No, not his.
Safe.
He could see her safe.
Her hand reached up and gripped his, so cold.
“I can do this on my own. I’ve survived this long, Ellis. I don’t need you to save me.”
“Maybe this is a way to save yourself?”
“I’m not daft. I know no one wishes to marry me. I sat on the marriage market long enough. And after today, my reputation will be shattered. I’ve nothing left, but I couldn’t stay any longer. Couldn’t…”
She dropped her touch and leaned her forehead against his stomach with a sigh.
“I’m sorry, Georgie. I am.” He braced his hand gingerly over her shoulder, a sharp metallic taste in his mouth as she winced again at his touch.
“You’ve had a life of your own,” she said, her voice so soft, so fragile. “We’ve both lived lifetimes, and sometimes the only thing we can do is survive to try again another day.”
He dropped to his knees, bracing his hands on her cheeks, his eyes frantically searching her face for some clue, some… Christ , he wasn’t even sure what. He only knew he would burn down this city until everyone fell at their feet before her in the very same way. She deserved nothing less.
“Yes,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. But they weren’t happy like the tears that had filled Dinah’s eyes when he proposed.
And he knew already, he had failed.
He let go, standing to place distance between them. To ignore the way his eyes had lingered on her lips a beat too long.
Sam’s little sister, no longer a little girl.
Now a woman, in his club, on a bed, having sold her virtue to him.
And he was the one on his knees begging.
“Very well. Tomorrow, then.”
“I need my things,” she called out after him.
“Then Tuesday, Kitten. But I will collect your things. You’re to stay here.”