Page 19 of Winning the Wallflower's Heart
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.
