Page 15 of Winning the Wallflower's Heart
Damn it. That wasn’t the right thing to say.
“No scene, no scandal. Quiet, then, Georgie. This will all be a quiet arrangement. You can have your life, and I will have mine, managing the club. I will see you set up with a suite of rooms, and you can spend your days doing as you wish.”
He stopped, not wanting to tell her how to spend her days, ignoring the cry ofminethat echoed in his head just then, whichwas altogether confusing. He was seven years older and had lived lifetimes over her.
And wasn’t she still the little sister of his best friend?
“Come have breakfast, Georgie,” he said, straightening. Slowly, he stepped back, giving them space, furious with himself and unsure why, knowing all too well that he was married, and he had a wife who couldn’t stomach being near him, much less speak to him.
He would deal with it tomorrow.
CHAPTER 5
Three weeks later
Georgiana had settledinto 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 receiveda 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 thatGeorgiana 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?—”
“Forpotatoes?”
“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.”
