“Perhaps you should sit?” he asked.
“I think that is wise.” Lord Grenton assisted her to the chair, and she sat down.
“What are we to do?” she asked, looking up at him.
“I refuse to hand you over to your brother.”
“If I don’t go, then he will make good on his threat,” Georgie said.
Lord Grenton crouched down next to her and reached for her gloved hand. “We will find a way to stop him.”
“How?” Georgie asked, glancing down at their hands. “He always finds a way to win. It has been that way since we were little.”
“Not this time,” Lord Grenton asserted. “Besides, you are not alone in this. I will not abandon you, nor will my friends. We are working to protect the orphanage, as well.”
“But what if he comes after you?” Georgie asked.
Lord Grenton smiled complacently. “Do not worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
Wilson stepped back into the room and said, “I apologize for interrupting, but the driver is insistent that you depart before the sun goes down.”
“I understand,” Georgie said.
Lord Grenton rose and assisted her in rising. “You will be safe at Miss Ashmore’s townhouse. I will call upon you tomorrow with a plan on how to stop your brother.”
Georgie gave him the briefest of smiles. “Thank you.”
“Be strong, and don’t lose hope,” he encouraged.
“I shall try.”
Lord Grenton offered his arm. “Allow me to escort you to the coach.”
ChapterSeventeen
The ledgers laid out on his desk, with their straight lines and careful figures, seemed to mock him, but it was pointless. He couldn’t focus on any of it. All he could think about was Miss Holbrooke and her plight. He would rather die than hand her over to her brother. He had to find a way to help her, but how?
Despite his best efforts, he had developed feelings for Miss Holbrooke, and he could deny it no longer. He didn’t want to, either. She had come into his life like a whirlwind, disrupting everything, but when the dust settled, he realized that she had brought a purpose back into his life. He could no longer remain as he once was or else he would risk losing her.
He rose and walked over to the drink cart. He picked up the decanter, but his hand stilled. Hawthorne had sent word over that he would be there shortly, and he no doubt would need a clear head.
As he replaced the decanter, Hawthorne stepped into the room as if William’s thought had summoned him, with Haddington and a stocky man in tow.
“It is about time you showed up,” William grumbled.
Hawthorne seemed unperturbed. “I have been a little busy.” He gestured towards the stocky man. “Allow me to introduce you to Mr. James Wycoff. He is the Bow Street Runner that was hired to abduct Miss Holbrooke.”
William narrowed his eyes. “What is this man doing in my home?” he roared. “You should know that he is not welcome.”
“You must trust me,” Hawthorne said.
“I do, but that doesn’t mean I trust him,” William said, motioning towards Mr. Wycoff. “He has tried to abduct Miss Holbrooke twice.”
“But he failed,” Haddington pointed out.
“Thank you for that reminder,” Mr. Wycoff muttered.
Hawthorne put a placating hand up. “You must hear him out.”
