Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
Three weeks later
Georgiana had settled into a new routine, albeit boring, but at least peaceful. She would awake in her rooms, two floors above the club, alone. She would dress, then head to breakfast a floor below, where Ellis kept his personal rooms.
Some mornings, she would see him briefly as he returned from his night at work. Most mornings, they would miss one another. And then she would carry on with her day, spending time with Hester or reading. Last week, she even began to paint again. The very idea of having space to do so made her soul happy.
But she couldn’t ignore that her heart wasn’t. Still, she was lonely.
From one house where it was safer for her to be ignored, and now to another where she was safe but kept hidden, away from the rest of London like a secret.
There had been whispers of course, and a small announcement of their wedding in the paper. She had received a letter from Marjorie wishing her all the best and telling her to reach out if she needed anything.
But Georgiana was still alone, desperate to share her heart with another, and destined to live her life in the shadows of her husband’s work at the club. He was a creature of the night, and whether from habit or out of survival, she preferred the mornings. It was easier to take an assessment of one’s day that way. She didn’t like waking up in the midst of chaos.
Romeo rolled over, stretching his paws out on a yawn before curling up next to her to sleep again.
Georgiana scratched the back of the cat’s head on a sigh, then pushed aside the stack of paper in front of her on the desk. Suddenly, with all this time to find her voice, she discovered nothing was there.
She felt just as much a prisoner here as in her old life.
The only difference being that now there was hope. She didn’t have to remain alone or locked away. Ellis hadn’t even given her any instructions other than seeing she was well cared for, and it showed—her bed was a soft haven with thick feather-stuffed mattresses and the softest linens. There were silver platters laden with pastries, and fine china set with fresh tea, while the fireplace, framed in marble and always tended, kept the room wrapped in a cocoon of steady warmth.
“Time for tea, I think, Mr. Romeo.” She scratched his head once more before slipping away to the kitchens.
It was strange to walk through the gaming hell during the day when she knew the rest of London was awake and tumbling into chaos. So, she tiptoed around as though she were afraid to wake a sleeping giant.
But that certainly wasn’t the case for Hester and Esther as she approached the kitchen. The two women were lost to a peal of laughter, the moment so overwhelmingly wholesome that Georgiana paused a moment before she entered, unable to hide the grin on her face.
“Now, now,” Esther said, adjusting her cap over her white hair. “Very well. This is serious now, Hester. We must compose ourselves.”
“Must we?”
“No,” the woman broke out in a roaring laugh. It was another moment before they both regained composure. “Should we continue now? Oh, The Fool card! Dear, you’re about to embark on a grand adventure—likely to the market to fetch us more potatoes.”
“That’s cheating! Ye know very well I must go to the market today.”
“No, no. Let me finish. You can’t interfere with the message, Hester. You’re off on a daring adventure?—”
“For potatoes ?”
“What do you have against potatoes?”
“Oh, nothing. They’re perfectly fine, I suppose, especially cooked in broth.”
“See? Now where was I? Let’s see, you’re off on a daring adventure for potatoes, but mind you don’t get distracted, or you’ll end up halfway to Brighton.”
“La, Brighton isn’t very nice this time of year. Though I wouldn’t mind a holiday.”
“A holiday would be lovely.”
Georgiana stepped into the kitchen, keeping her eyes drawn to the floor, embarrassed to have interrupted the moment.
“Oh, darling!” Esther cheered, her round cheeks bright red and her blue eyes gleeful. “You’ve come just in time.”
“We’re so pleased ye could come visit. Not much to do at the moment.” Hester patted the empty chair beside her. “Come sit. We’re telling each other’s fortunes.”
“I don’t mean to intrude?—”
“Intrude?” Hester tilted her head. “Ye live here now, Georgiana. Ye aren’t intruding. We’re so happy to see ye. You’ve no need to ‘ide away all day.”
Yes, she might have been hiding, but where else was she to go?
“I’ve come for some tea, and then I will be on my way?—”
“Nonsense, child,” Esther said, patting the seat. “Come, we’ve a fresh pot of tea here, and I’ll pour. You’re just in time for Hester to pull my cards.”
Hester chuckled, rubbing her hands together in anticipation.
At that, Georgiana laughed, feeling herself ease a little more into the room and relax into her body. This was her life now. No brother or father. No cold or hunger. But warmth and laughter.
“And I have tarts,” Hester added as if reading her mind.
Yes, the most amazing treacle tarts. She wasn’t unconvinced Ellis had noticed her fondness for the delicious treat and had seen it always available. She never went a day without tarts once they were married.
She sank down into the seat as Esther poured her a cup of tea and Hester plated up a tart. “How does one tell a fortune?”
“It’s in the cards, dear.” Hester smiled, waving her hands over the deck.
“Oh, go on, will you?” Esther winked at Georgiana over her teacup. “Always a dramatic buildup with this one.”
“I don’t have to tell yer fortune now,” Hester teased before the two women broke out in giggles again.
Georgiana was left volleying between the pair, surprised to discover she was laughing as well.
With a flick of her wrist, Hester slipped a card off the top of the deck and flipped it over. Both women’s eyes went wide before Hester tossed her hands up. “Death card. Serious indeed, but don’t fret. This just means change, like finally convincing that husband of yers to wear his waistcoat properly.”
Esther nearly sprayed out her tea, reaching her hand out for Georgiana’s, and giving her a reassuring pat. “Change indeed! Maybe you’ll finally be rid of that hideous wallcovering in your room once and for all. Out with the old!”
Esther reached for the deck, then turned to Georgiana. “Would you like to play along?”
She shivered then, certain her fortune might cast a dark picture over the morning mischief.
“No need, dear,” Hester said. “It’s only for fun. Leave her be, Esther. I suppose it’s time to head to the market?—”
“Yes, please,” Georgiana whispered. She clutched her teacup tightly. It was for fun. A card surely couldn’t dictate her future.
“Make it a good one now,” Hester teased.
“I’ve no say over the cards,” Esther shot back, “but I don’t like to say fortune favors me.”
“And that new red bonnet suits you as well.” Hester stuffed a tart into her mouth. “You’ll need to show Georgiana later. Maybe she would like to visit Bond Street with us one day this week.”
Esther shushed Hester, and again, the two women giggled. Georgiana bit back her own laugh, leaning forward to see what was drawn.
Hester flipped over the card and the two women exchanged a quick, knowing look before they glanced back at Georgiana.
“Oh, The Lovers , eh? Seems like the cards are telling you it’s time to stop dancing around each other. You know, love can be a stubborn thing—like trying to convince my Hester here that she’s wrong about anything!”
Hester smirked. “Which I never am.”
“But in all seriousness,” Esther continued, “sometimes love needs a little nudge. You’re not going to get anywhere standing against the ballroom walls, Georgiana. If he’s being a fool, give him a reason to stop ignoring you—something that reminds him why he can’t bear to lose you.”
“Or just whack him with a broom and see if that helps. Worked for my Henry, God bless his soul,” Hester quipped.
Esther reached for Georgiana’s hand again and softly rubbed her thumb back and forth over the top of her hand. For something that was supposed to be just fun, it felt awfully accurate.
“Love is a game, darling, but you’ve got to be willing to play your part.”
“My part?” she replied, confused. “He married me to protect me. It was never about love.” She shrugged.
Hester drummed her fingers over the lace tablecloth. “Does he know that?”
“Know what?”
“That you’re in love with him, darling.”
Georgiana whipped her head around to stare at Esther, everything suddenly burning from embarrassment inside her.
“We won’t tell,” Hester playfully whispered. “But we certainly wouldn’t mind helping push things along. Ellis has spent too much of his life living up in that mind of his. Time for him to find some happiness. Same for you. Nothing to be ashamed of—wanting a comfortable, happy life.”
Esther sat up and gathered her cards. “No matter, darling. This was all for fun. Carry on. I must be off on my grand adventure to get some potatoes.”
“Oh yes,” Hester said, standing up to join her friend. “We’re heading to the market, then stopping over at the orphanage. We always go on Thursdays. Would ye like to come along for a walk and some fresh air?”
The two continued bickering and quipping, leaving Georgiana there with her tea in the kitchen as the day’s sun filtered in through the small street level windows. She traced her fingers over The Lovers card, a little giddy about what it signified, whether for fun or not.
Everything within Georgiana tensed. It would be easier to remain behind, but a strange pressure was building in her chest, and before she could think better of it, she jumped out of her chair and pulled on a smile. “I would love to come along.”
She had remained silent for much of her life, but she couldn’t any longer. Georgiana could crave a peaceful life without forcing herself to be small for the comfort of others.
And if he allowed it, she would love Ellis. Not the quiet, pining love she’d held for him for years. No, she would confront him tonight about their marriage. And she would ask only that he be open to the idea of one day loving her.
Contrary to the opinion of those men who gambled and lost at his club, Ellis was not entirely heartless. Selfish, perhaps, but not heartless.
The charity work he spearheaded across London hospitals and orphanages had started out from the need to remember Dinah, a cause dear to her heart when she was alive. With each passing year, he felt as if he lost a little more of her, the memory becoming harder to hold on to, even while caring for her grandmother, Hester.
It was her absence from the Phoenix Club this afternoon that spurred him to visit the orphanage before he dove into business for the evening. It was generally wise to seek the older woman out when she went missing. She had a knack for stirring up trouble wherever she went. She was a menace with knitting needles.
Ellis entered the sitting room of the orphanage to find Hester and Esther hotly debating the merits of goose versus turkey for Christmastide while knitting. They glanced up, feigning innocence as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“I’ll pay for both the goose and turkey. There’s no need to haggle, Hester. Or are you planning to charm the butcher into a feast for a shilling again?” he asked dryly, though a hint of a smile tugged at the edge of his mouth.
Esther chuckled. “You haven’t paid a visit here in months, Ellis. Don’t tell me you’re worried? She’s with children, not wild animals.”
“Who?”
“Ack, come on now. Ye’re too handsome to play coy.” Hester leveled him with a playful glare.
He was used to their teasing, but when it came to the whereabouts of his wife, he didn’t find much humor in their antics. “Where’s Georgiana, then?”
Esther stood, adjusting her shawl, clearly enjoying herself. “Upstairs with the children. Why don’t you go see?”
“Is that so?” He cocked his head, curiosity piqued now.
He glanced between the two elderly women, swearing one day they’d be the reason he ended up in an early grave. Always meddlesome, always…
Hell, they were the only family he had now, and truth be told, he’d do anything for them both.
With a nod, Ellis turned and headed up the stairs. The cheerful sounds of children’s laughter drawing him forward. His steps slowed at the doorway, catching a glimpse of the scene inside before fully entering.
The room was awash in color and light, with children scattered about, holding brushes or pointing proudly to a sprawling mural across the far side of the large room—a castle, a fire-breathing dragon, a princess, and a large sun in the brilliant cyan sky. And in the center of it all was Georgiana, twirling with a little girl in her arms, laughing freely. Paint streaked her hands, and a bright yellow smear crossed her cheek. Her honey hair was loose, curls framing her smile.
For a moment, Ellis simply stood there, transfixed. She wasn’t just Sam’s younger sister, or the woman he’d married out of a sense of duty. She was Georgiana—radiant and resilient, her spirit unbroken despite everything she’d endured.
The sight of her, so unguarded, stirred something deep inside him. Three weeks since they were married, and he had barely seen or talked to her.
He was a damn fool.
Ellis stepped into the room, and she glanced up, meeting his gaze. Her smile was soft, hesitant, and his breath caught.
“That is… incredible,” he murmured, glancing at the mural, then back at her.
She brushed her hands on her apron, though it only spread the paint farther. Georgiana laughed quietly to herself, then shrugged. “The children did most of it,” she said, admiring the mural with fondness. “I just helped.”
He took in the mural’s details, lingering on the familiar yellow flowers. After silence stretched between them, he quietly added, “You bring light into places. Do you know that?”
Her brow furrowed slightly, as if unsure what to make of his words, but she said nothing. She just looked at him, waiting.
He wanted to say more, wanted to tell her that she brought light into his life, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he reached out, brushing a thumb across the smear of paint on her cheek, his touch lingering.
“Ellis?” she asked softly, her gaze searching his face. A glimpse of the same hesitation flashed across her dark eyes—the same he had seen when they were married.
He swallowed, his voice almost a whisper. “You’re stronger than you know, Georgiana.”
Her eyes widened, and for a long, quiet moment, the world seemed to fade around them even as the children’s laughter and chatter swirled in the background.
Ellis lowered his hand and stepped back, the realization settling deep in his bones—he was falling for her, completely and irrevocably.
“Hester!”
Ellis crossed his arms at Dinah’s grandmother who was furiously knitting.
“Not now, Ellis. I need to beat Esther.”
The older woman sat hunched in the small parlor he set up for her upstairs, separate from the gaming hell. Now with a bride, it was beginning to feel a little crunched trying to cram everyone under one roof. Maybe it was finally time to find a home of his own.
“We’ve a competition to see who can knit the biggest blanket by tomorrow.”
He tapped his boot, glancing up at the ceiling for a sliver of patience. After Dinah’s passing, Hester had been there to help Ellis move on and to help mediate the business venture between him and Dinah’s brother, with whom he operated a few silver hells in the East End. Eventually, Ellis decided to go after money and power and open an exclusive club that peers would be eager to join.
“Shaw told me you needed me.”
“Oh, yes.” She placed her knitting needles in her lap and looked up with a grin. “I needed to know if ye remembered ye had a wife. After ye ran from the orphanage two days ago, I wasn’t sure.”
“I didn’t run.”
His heart hammered in his chest at the mere thought of her. Yes, he remembered he had a wife now, and he did his best to see her every need met. Well, every need beyond the physical. Which might have accounted for why he dove into work at the club in the weeks following their wedding with such fervor. He was too tired at the end of the day to seek her out, and it helped numb the thoughts he had of her.
Of kissing her. Of feeling her skin beneath his trailing fingers. Of enjoying her body.
Damn it.
He balled his fists tight and slammed his eyes shut, annoyed with himself. He wouldn’t dare touch her.
“No meddling, Hester. Please. I’ve no time?—”
The other day at the orphanage had been a mistake. He had been weak, caved to his curiosity, and nearly kissed her. That yellow paint had somehow found its way onto his best jacket, and he couldn’t get it off. Serving as yet another taunting reminder of her and her damn sunshine.
“Of course, darling. It’s only that she spends her days here like a ghost trapped in a castle like one of those M.E. Gastrell novels. Time the girl was shown what it was to live. Doesn’t help that her husband ignores her and leaves her to fend for herself.”
“I’m not ignoring her. The club has been busy.”
Hester’s eyebrows shot up. “Ye’ve a healthy payroll last I checked.”
“Sometimes if you want it done right?—”
“Pish, posh.” Hester picked up her knitting needles once more. “She’s a lovely girl, maybe a little world-weary, understandably so. But there’s no need to shut yerself off from her.”
“I’m seven years her senior. She’s not interested in me. I did a good deed and managed to keep her away from her family, which I should have done ages ago.”
Hester’s thin lips pressed together, nearly disappearing. Instead, she knitted furiously.
“You might as well say it, Hester.”
The older woman let out a huff as though she had been holding her breath. She set down her needles again and leaned forward in her chair. “Sometimes, what we need is right in front of us, and we’re too blind to see it. That applies to Georgiana in more ways than one, dear. Keeping her locked away and protected is all fine and good, but she will wither up and die all the same, and?—”
“What’s in that drink of yours?” He grabbed the glass from the small table beside her chair. With one sniff, his stomach turned. Once, a very long time ago, he also had a fondness for Scotch. “Christ, have you been drinking again, Hester?”
She giggled, poking her finger into his waist. “I like to end my night with a Scotch. Won’t hurt anybody, and I’m almost dead anyway.”
He scoffed.
“Think about what I said.”
“About you being dead or the fact you lied and enjoy a few highballs every evening?”
“Such a clever boy. I’m reminded all the time why my Dinah loved you.”
The room lost its warmth. The mention of her name did that. Every time. He blamed himself for her death. Maybe it was foolish, but if he’d paid closer attention, she might have found a doctor sooner. She could have had a holiday by the sea. Instead, he’d been too busy chasing the dangerous sins of London with Sam, oblivious until it was too late.
He’d been selfish then, and Dinah’s memory was proof. A grim ledger of mistakes, where following his desires led to the destruction of his life and happiness. He’d been reckless, thinking he could keep it all under control—until he was left standing over her grave. Clueless that he was not some untouchable mortal, like he had believed.
Now, he’d married Georgiana to protect her, not to love her. Love was a mistake he couldn’t make again. And yet, every time she entered a room, he felt it—the pull, the ache, as if his own restraint was daring him to fail. But if he slipped and gave in, even a little, he knew where it would end.
Georgiana would be left with the damage. And he couldn’t do that to her.
He set his jaw, willing himself back to reason. He ran a gaming hell where men came to take chances, but this wasn’t a risk he’d take. She deserved better than whatever ruin he could offer.
He’d given her his name, nothing more. The temptation was there, simmering in every glance, every brush of her hand. But that was all he’d allow it to be. She needed stability, protection—things he could provide from a distance. Because he knew better than anyone the danger of getting close.
“Hester, it’s nearly ten in the evening, and the club is packed. If you don’t need me any longer?”
“I always need ye, darling. But if ye don’t leave, I fear I won’t beat Esther.”
He chuckled and scratched his jaw. “Godspeed, then.”
When he left, he meant to seek out Georgiana if she were still awake. At least then, he wouldn’t feel guilty. Except it seemed it would be one of those nights where he was solving one crisis or another with a smile on his face. His peers loved their ego stroked, of course.
That was until they were in his office, begging him not to make good on their bets.
He hadn’t succeeded in this business by being kind.
Finally, nearly three hours later, Ellis pushed through the office door and froze at the sight of the woman who sat on the edge of his desk. A strange surge of protectiveness washed over him, his body suddenly on edge.
“What’s wrong?” Thankfully, the panic didn’t leak through in his question. He didn’t want to scare her.
Georgiana glanced up at him, her hands gripped tightly on the edge of the desk, and he was once again held captive by her beautiful brown eyes.
“I haven’t seen you,” she said softly. “Have I upset you?”
“Upset me? How?” he asked.
“I realize when we married that we agreed to separate lives, but we live in the same building, Ellis. I thought I would at least see you.”
“Yes, I?—”
He swallowed hard and glanced back up at her. There was a fire in her eyes tonight, and a determined air clung to her in addition to a beautiful new gown.
“I see you’ve been to the modiste,” Ellis said, desperate to change the subject. He didn’t want to admit to her that he had been avoiding her. Somehow, he felt that gave her too much power.
“I have,” she said, and she pushed off the desk and stood, closing the distance between them. In the low candlelight of his office, the shadows danced across her skin and made her blonde hair shine like gold.
His wife . That voice, that annoying reminder, hadn’t gone away in the three weeks since their wedding.
Yes, his wife, but he had promised to protect her, and he didn’t trust himself to do that. He didn’t trust himself to stop once he finally tasted her lips and fell into her kiss. A shiver raced down his spine at the mere thought of her fingers softly tracing his cheeks, cradling his jaw. No good could come of that—he was certain. This had been a business arrangement, and?—
“Ellis,” she said, drawing his focus once more. “I recognize what we agreed to, but I have to argue that you’re my only friend. I want to see you. I want to hear about your day.”
“My day is now,” he snapped, instantly irritated with himself. How quickly his calm faded away.
“I recognize that,” she said. “You’ve built a very successful club here, and I don’t mean to keep you. But if I didn’t seek you out, I know I wouldn’t have found you either. I live a floor above you, and I find myself not knowing anything about you. And now”—Georgiana held up an envelope—“I’ve received an invitation from a close friend, and I find myself wondering if I’ll be forced to attend alone.”
When she stepped a little closer, he watched her lick her lips slowly before she confessed, “I want to know about your day, and I want to hear your hopes and your dreams, and I want to hear about every inconvenience you face during the day. I want to hear your laugh. I want to thank you for the new paints and canvases, though there was no note. I know that was you.
“I came here to auction off my virtue, and I married you so you could protect me. But I’m begging you not to shut me away and keep me high on a shelf like some prize to be protected at all costs. It’s lonely up there, and I’ve spent too much of my life being lonely, Ellis.”
He found himself moving toward her without thinking until they were toe-to-toe, and a new perfume washed over him, claiming his senses, driving him nearly wild. He smelled vanilla, violets—like spring—and now that they were in the very beginning of winter, it was a hopeful thought indeed.
Could she draw him out of his shadows to claim his life once more, instead of moving around in the dark, hopelessly fumbling, pushing to succeed, determined to do his very best.
“I don’t want to be a burden to you,” she said. “And if you don’t like me?—”
“I like you,” he said, interrupting her. “I like you more than plenty, Georgie. It’s only—I don’t trust myself. For too long, I have put all of myself into building this club to become what it is, and having to let go of that, to focus on you?—”
“I don’t want you to do that.”
His eyes raked over her face, the apples of her cheeks. When she had arrived three weeks prior, she had been pale, and there had been dark smudges beneath her eyes and bruises on her limbs. Now she nearly glowed, and she smelled like heaven. He wondered if she tasted like the favorite tarts he had ordered specifically for her every day since they were married.
“And promise me,” she said, “that you will at least entertain the fact that you have a wife who wants to see you and hear you and be near you—not out of duty, but out of…”
She paused, and he found himself waiting for that word.
“Out of what?” he asked finally, his voice hoarse.
Her eyes slowly moved up his face to meet his, then slowly down to his lips. The very last threads of his control snapped as she whispered, “Desire.”
Ellis gently bent down, moved his hand to the base of her skull, and pressed his lips against hers. For one blissful, maddening moment, she sighed into his touch, melting against him.
It was not a hungry kiss, but tentative and tender, sweet like Georgie. Her lips were soft against his, and he pressed the kiss deeper, pulling her closer, erasing the small distance between them until her chest collided with his.
Because, suddenly, everything felt right.