Page 22 of Winning the Wallflower's Heart
But the house always won, and the night had been sorted.
Except he missed Georgiana at breakfast this morning, part of him glad because he hadn’t been able to rid her from his mind since their kiss in his office.
He slid farther into the hot water, taking himself in hand at the memory of her soft sigh when they kissed. He was the very devil for it, but that damn kiss had haunted him all week. He’d almost wager his club at this point if he could win another kiss from her.
Which was dangerous.
“Boss,” Shaw’s voice called out from outside the washroom door.
Ellis let go and sat up, half disgusted he had pleasured himself to the memory of her. “What?” he snapped.
“There’s a situation.”
Wasn’t there always?
“What now?”
“It’s Georgiana.”
He leapt out of the tub, skidding over the tiled floor as he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist before yanking the door open. “What’s happened?”
Shaw chuckled. “She’s managed to wrap you up into a right mess, hasn’t she?”
Ellis only glowered.
“Georgiana has left, and word is she’s paying a visit with Madame Marie.”
Silence reigned until his heart drummed in his ears, and he tamped down the sudden surge of anger.
“Why?” he asked, his voice brittle.
“Couldn’t say, sir. Esther told me you might like to know.”
Forever meddling, Esther and Hester!
“Should I get her, sir? Or go…”
“No, leave it to me. Don’t say a word to anyone about it.”
With his shirt still clinging damply to his chest and his wet hair dripping down his neck, he strode out of his club a few minutes later and marched toward Madame Marie’s, each step faster until he pounded his fist against the door.
Once the door cracked open, he pushed through, brushing past Bowdler, the imposing doorman. “Where is she?” he demanded.
“Who’s that now, Linny?”
The damn man must have had a death wish, judging by the chuckle in his voice.
“My wife!”
“Oh, she’s with Madame Marie. You’ve no appointment. You can’t see her.”
Ellis skirted around the taller man and held out his hand in warning. “Bring me to my wife or I’ll find her myself.”
“I’ll help you.” A young woman poked her head out behind the curtain, her black hair tied in a plait with a pink silk bow.
He gave her a quick nod, remembering the half-starved girl he’d once handed a coin to outside the club’s back door months after opening. “Hello, Porita.”
“Good morning, Linny. Come to collect?”
