Page 10 of Winning the Wallflower's Heart
He could see her safe.
Her hand reached up and gripped his, so cold.
“I can do this on my own. I’ve survived this long, Ellis. I don’t need you to save me.”
“Maybe this is a way to save yourself?”
“I’m not daft. I know no one wishes to marry me. I sat on the marriage market long enough. And after today, my reputation will be shattered. I’ve nothing left, but I couldn’t stay any longer. Couldn’t…”
She dropped her touch and leaned her forehead against his stomach with a sigh.
“I’m sorry, Georgie. I am.” He braced his hand gingerly over her shoulder, a sharp metallic taste in his mouth as she winced again at his touch.
“You’ve had a life of your own,” she said, her voice so soft, so fragile. “We’ve both lived lifetimes, and sometimes the only thing we can do is survive to try again another day.”
He dropped to his knees, bracing his hands on her cheeks, his eyes frantically searching her face for some clue, some…Christ, he wasn’t even sure what. He only knew he would burn down this city until everyone fell at their feet before her in the very same way. She deserved nothing less.
“Yes,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. But they weren’t happy like the tears that had filled Dinah’s eyes when he proposed.
And he knew already, he had failed.
He let go, standing to place distance between them. To ignore the way his eyes had lingered on her lips a beat too long.
Sam’s little sister, no longer a little girl.
Now a woman, in his club, on a bed, having sold her virtue to him.
And he was the one on his knees begging.
“Very well. Tomorrow, then.”
“I need my things,” she called out after him.
“Then Tuesday, Kitten. But I will collect your things. You’re to stay here.”
CHAPTER 3
She leftthe club the next morning with a stomach full of scones and strawberries and too much tea, determined to return home and rescue her few remaining belongings.
Even though Ellis had warned her against it.
Try as she might, Georgiana had tossed and turned most of the night, knowing she was about to lose the last few remnants of her old life. It wasn’t much—a battered jewelry box that had belonged to her mother, two volumes of poetry she cherished, and Romeo, of course. She hated the thought of walking away from those pieces of herself without a fight. Her life had already been shattered in so many ways that to leave what little she had to her name behind felt like admitting defeat.
And she wasn’t ready to do that. Not yet.
She tightened her shawl around her shoulders as she slipped through the busy city streets, the morning chill biting at her cheeks. She kept her head down, moving quickly until Pickins House loomed ahead. The two stone stairs at the stoop were crooked, the foundation underneath crumbling away. The windows were shuttered and dark, but it was barely past dawn, though she knew better than to expect the house would be empty.
Her brother might be inside, either dead to the world in a drunken stupor or nursing a biting headache.
Ellis had tried to tell her, in that calm, infuriatingly reasonable way of his, it was better to wait. But she couldn’t bear the idea of him sweeping in and fixing everything. She’d survived this long on her own, hadn’t she?
Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms. This wasn’t just about the letters and trinkets. It was about control. Taking back some small part of her life that hadn’t been decided by someone else. Because that’s what Ellis had done, hadn’t he? Swooped in like a hero, turning her carefully laid plans into rubble.
She had left Pickins House to auction off her virtue to the highest bidder, determined to create a new future for herself. And now she returned, hoping to grab the last remnants of an old life so she could be married to the one man she had hopelessly and recklessly loved for years, even while knowing full well, he had never felt the same.
With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and climbed up the steps, then fumbled with the latch for a moment. She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. Finally, it gave way with a soft click, and she eased the door open, holding her breath.
The house smelled of stale liquor and decay. She crept inside, the floorboards groaning underfoot.
