“I’ll not leave you, my lady,” Stella said in a fierce tone. “Nor let any harm come to you. Now rest.” The maid gently pushed her in the direction of one of the chairs before the fire. “I’ll be back.”
Georgina nodded as Stella shut the door firmly behind her. She slumped into a chair, curling up until her knees nearly touched her chin.
Stand your ground, Georgie.
She was trying. Honestly, she was. But she’d never felt more afraid or alone in her life.
A tear fell down her cheek before she even realized she was crying. A thin wail left her. Then a sob. She started shaking. Grabbing the pillow beneath her arm, Georgina pressed it to her mouth to quiet the sound.
9
London, 1839
Georgina looked at her cards, then at Larkin standing behind the faro table, and lastly at her small stack of chips. She hadn’t been very lucky at faro tonight, which was a pity because she could do with a bit of luck. Taking a sip of her bourbon, she saw how her fingers trembled. But she smiled brilliantly and placed her wager, trying to focus on her enjoyment of the game.
Difficult in light of nearly having been murdered that morning.
The lavish garden party she’d thrown at Beechwood Court meant to prove Georgina was nothing more than a merry,childlesswidow who would soon leave England and put to bed any of Harold’s lingering suspicions had, in retrospect, been a grave error.
Don’t think to place a cuckoo in the Masterson nest, you trollop.
Well, shehadn’t. HaroldwasLord Masterson. He wouldstayLord Masterson. There wouldn’t be another claim to the title, at least not from Georgina. But in the time since her return to London, Harold had become increasingly desperate.Unhinged.
Earlier this month, Harold had demanded, with spittle forming at the corners of his mouth, that Georgina return Beechwood Court to him as well as whatever sum his uncle had left her. Both rightfully belonged to him. He’d stomped into her drawing room at Beechwood Court, stopping in his rant only to examine the rug beneath his feet. She’ddonesomething to his uncle, he’d screeched, to make him bestow such wealth on her.
Georgina had calmly explained that he was free to take up the matter with Mr. Lind, her solicitor.
She was to stop spendinghismoney, he insisted, on lavish entertainments like her garden party. Stop draininghisaccount. Stop wasting gold on remodeling the estate he meant to sell.
A small, painful laugh bubbled up inside her.
It wasimpossibleto drain her account. Even after the large sum she’d spent on Beechwood Court’s renovations and furnishings, the amount in that particular account hadneverchanged.
Of course, after a rather difficult and pointed discussion with Mr. Lind, Georgina now knew why the sum in her account never altered. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Or the fact that she didn’t actually own Beechwood Court. Nor did Masterson.
Today had been incredibly awful, even by Georgina’s standards. Full of unwelcome visitors trying to kill her and disturbing discoveries about a man who she’d assumed cared nothing for her.
She raised the glass of the fine bourbon whiskey to her lips. Delicious. Hard to find so far from home, except at Elysium.
Presumptuous bastard.
Generally, on the occasions she still visited Elysium, Georgina kept the company of Welles or his bride, Maggie. She would laugh and drink wine, refusing to ask for bourbon. Play endless rounds of faro. Sometimes whist. Hazard only to prove a point. Generally, Georgina behaved as if she were the happiest widow in London. She deliberately dressed in hues other than black, pewter, or lavender, because she had decided after a little over a year that her mourning period was over.
More than enough time to grieve a man she hadn’t even liked very much.
Every one of her gowns possessed a scandalous neckline guaranteed to have every male in Elysium salivating over her. Punishment for the one gentleman roaming the second-floor landing like a king overseeing castle walls before invaders attack.
Yes, it was childish, and precisely the sort of behavior that had gotten Georgina in trouble repeatedly throughout her life.
When Leo noticed her, as he often did, the brilliant blue of his eyes remained unreadable. Cool, like the surface of a frost-covered pond.
Georgina glared back before dismissing him with a flick of her chin.
If he came near her while Georgina sat with Welles or Maggie, she turned away. Avoidance was a terrible game, one she and Leo had been engaged in for some time. Neither would ever win. Sometimes, Georgina wanted to climb atop one of the faro tables and scream at Leo for tossing her aside for the likes of Lady Dunley. Or whatever opera singer was currently his mistress. Or even the slender widow Georgina had seen circling Leo one night, like a lion about to take down a gazelle.
Turning her lips up in a smile, Georgina set down another chip, not caring whether she won or not. A fool and his money were soon parted, an apt description of herself. She adjusted the neckline of her gown, a shimmering burgundy edged in black jet beads. Eye-catching. Definitely not mournful. Standing out at Elysium would protect her.
At least she was hopeful it would.
