Page 4 of Winning the Wallflower's Heart
“Undress like the others, then in line with ye,” the man said, and he whispered something to an older woman standing by the curtain.
Georgiana quickly stripped down to her chemise, cursing at herself as her hands shook.
The older woman glanced at Georgiana with squinted eyes before rushing her along, shooing her away with hands dripping in jewels. “Come, come, girl,” she snapped. “In line. I can’t hear myself think. You’ll all be quiet soon enough when they’re bidding for you.”
The room fell to an eerie hush.
“That’s what I thought,” she cackled. “Just mind yourself,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. She was a small, petite woman with her brown, black, and silver hair pulled harshly behind her, a deep maroon dress, and a watch at her waist. “I’ll tell you what I tell all my girls. Smile and do what they wish, and when it’s over, be glad it’s done. Now, you’re name.”
“Lady Georgiana Harland.”
Georgiana placed her bag to the side and stood in line, ignoring the hushed murmurs at her title.
No one else looked at her, not even as, one by one, each girl was called out and escorted to a room upstairs, until finally, Georgiana stood just at the threshold of a small, crowded room with something of a makeshift stage. Her stomach cramped, and she was certain she would double over. She had eaten nothing all day, and between that and her nerves, the world shook beneath her feet.
“I will survive,” she whispered before the man announcing her cut through her thoughts.
She was led on stage. She glanced around at a room full of men with hungry eyes, smoking cigars, sipping brandy.
The room fell quiet, save for one small, measly bid.
Her stomach sank.
Georgiana held her chin high even as she felt the first prick of tears in her eyes. She scanned the room, and then her eyes fell uponhim,holding up the doorway.
Ellis,Lord Linfield sat behind his blackened pearwood desk, its chiseled figures of Dionysus and Hades glinting in bronze under the dim light. The weight of his gaze held Lord Vaughan still. The man, twelve years his senior, fumbled at his cravat, a flicker of desperation in his eyes.
“I’ve given you more than enough time, Vaughan,” Ellis said, his voice smooth and detached, as if discussing the weather. “Our arrangement was clear, and you’ve had ample time to settle your debt.”
Vaughan scratched at the thinning hair at his temple, his nervous energy palpable. “I need a little more time. I told your man that earlier. Surely, we can come to another agreement, seeing as we’re both Eton men.”
Always the same. Two years now after opening the most exclusive gaming hell in London, Ellis was always faced with the same incredulity whenever his patrons were pressed to be accountable for their actions.
“This club is filled with Eton men. That’s the point.” Ellis reclined in his seat, fingers steepled, face impassive but sharp. “I don’t extend credit indefinitely. You know the rules. You pay, or you forfeit. And after this meeting, you will be escorted out. You are no longer a member here at the Phoenix Club.”
Lord Vaughan laughed nervously, squirming in his seat on the opposite side of the desk. “I know your father. We must be able to work?—”
If he truly knew his father, then he’d know not to bring the man up.
Ellis’s cool gaze silenced him. The man’s mouth opened, a protest forming, but he swallowed it under Ellis’s unwavering stare. A beat of tension passed.
“Sell an estate,” Ellis said, his words empty of sympathy. “A small price to keep your reputation intact.”
A flush crept over Vaughan’s face, and his shoulder rolled forward. No one in London could afford to be barred from this club. Then, with a slow exhale, he said, “Very well, Linny.”
Ellis stood, signaling the meeting’s end, and motioned for Lord Vaughan to be escorted out. He didn’t watch him leave—didn’t need to. Instead, he glanced at his watch.
Tonight’s auction wasn’t his business—Marie ran that side of things—but the spectacle attracted deep pockets, and it was worth his time to see who bid and why. Knowing which of his members played in this game told him everything about their appetites, their weaknesses—a useful ledger to keep. And while he hosted the auction at his club, it was agreed that a significant portion of the funds would go directly to the participants. It was their gamble, their risk—a chance to buy freedom, or at least the illusion of it. Marie knew all too well a woman’s place in London, and he wasn’t about to stop her and others from taking what little they could from the reckless men running through this city.
Striding out of the office, his steps echoed down the polished marble hall. The club buzzed with its usual low hum, the rhythm of another winning night for the house, but something felt wrong.Hefelt wrong.
He frowned, pushing open the door to the private room as the announcer roared, “Come on, gentlemen. Who will bid for this woman?”
Ellis froze in the doorway as the candlelight from the chandelier danced upon the figure on stage. Large brown eyes stared back at him, the very ones that had haunted him over the years.
Georgiana.
The crowd murmured, and that same spike of panic he had last felt when setting eyes upon her, frozen and locked out of Pickins House, burst through him.
