“I assume as much.”
“What if he fires you?”
“Then so be it,” Wilson responded. “I can’t stand by in good conscience and let him continue to hurt you.”
Georgie smiled up at the butler. “You are a good man, Wilson.”
Wilson’s eyes crinkled up at the corners as he returned her smile. “I told your father that I would watch over you, and I am just living up to the promise.”
“It is more than that,” Georgie said, hoping her words conveyed her appreciation. “You have always been there for me, no matter what has transpired.”
“That is a job of any good butler.”
Mrs. Peters motioned towards the door. “Shall we? We should depart soon if we want to arrive in the rookeries before dark.”
Georgie’s eyes roamed over the servants gratefully, and she smiled her thanks. “Do take care of yourselves.”
As Georgie departed the servant’s quarters, she saw their black coach waiting on the street for them. A footman held the door open for her and assisted her as she stepped inside. She had just situated herself when Mrs. Peters and Alice entered and sat across from her.
Georgie looked at Alice in surprise. “You’re coming, too?”
Alice nodded. “I couldn’t let you go to the orphanage by yourself,” she replied. “Who would dress you or style your hair?”
Georgie let out a sigh of relief. “I was wondering the same thing.”
The coach merged into traffic and Georgie closed her eyes, feeling a profound sense of relief the further she got away from the townhouse. With any luck, her brother would never be able to hurt her again and she would be free to do as she pleased.
Alice’s voice broke through her musings. “Are you having second thoughts?”
Georgie met Alice’s gaze. “I am not.”
“That’s good. It’s too late to turn around now.”
“I have no desire to ever return to my family’s townhouse,” Georgie confessed. “It used to be filled with love and laughter, but now it is bleak.”
“But it is your home.”
“Not anymore. It hasn’t felt like home since Father died.”
Mrs. Peters leaned forward and patted her knee. “You have had a rough go of it, but it will all work out for you. You shall see.”
“I just want to live quietly in Brighton.”
“You will,” Mrs. Peters said. “You just have to get through these next few months at the orphanage, and I will be there to help you.”
“What kind of orphanage requires a lady to run it?” Georgie asked.
Mrs. Peters shrugged. “I know not, but my brother has been frantically trying to find a lady to become the headmistress.”
“Who is his employer?”
“Lord Grenton,” Mrs. Peters replied. “His mother had made preparations to open the orphanage when she became sick.”
“Still, is it not odd that Lord Grenton demanded a lady?” Georgie pressed. “There must be many women not of thetonwho would be competent in running an orphanage.”
“It is odd, but from what I heard, Lord Grenton can be rather demanding.”
Georgie clutched her hands together in her lap. “What if Lord Grenton meets me and finds me lacking?” she asked. “He might not hire me, and then what will become of me?”
