Back home, Gabriel paid the driver with coins from his own pocket for once, and I rushed inside the house.
“Where is she?” I asked Toole.
“Upstairs, Your Grace. But you are bleeding—!”
I took the stairs two by two.
ChapterTwenty-Six
Georgiana
“Faster, Jane.” I pulled everything out of my armoire, my rampant heartbeat in my throat. The last trunk waited open on the floor. Already, she had all my shoes stacked in the bottom.
“Miss Wood, this is all so rushed. Are yousure—”
“I want to go home.” I felt ill, dizzy like I’d had too much wine. Rushed, to be sure, but it was better this way. No time to think. No time tofeel. Her Grace had understood. After hearing the story relayed from Maggie, it felt almost like shewantedme to go. Like she agreed that I was doing more harm than good here. I placed the last of my face creams and hairpins in a little box, then set it in the trunk. Jane folded dresses furiously. “I never want to return to London again.”
“Her Grace said the carriage should be ready soon.” Jane laid the last gown on top. “She’s sending another maid and a footman to journey with us.”
I nodded, eyes watery as I looked about the room. I had already emptied drawers and filled the smaller trunk on my bed with trinkets.
I supposed I should be grateful Lord Reynolds had givenme the excuse I needed to leave. I didn’t want to, but now, it was clearer than ever that I should. Lucas deserved better than a girl who courted judgment and whispers, who took every wrong turn no matter how well-intentioned. Thank heavens it had happened before either of us had said anything we could not take back.
On the bedside table, I’d left a little leather box. Lucas’s grandmother’s ring.
Returned, finally.
We’d had our final outing, after all. Planned or not. And it had certainly been one for the papers.
Jane locked both trunks, and we did a final spin about the room.
“I shall have the men carry these down as well,” Jane said from the window. “I see the carriage now.”
A knock rapped on the door.
“Don’t answer it,” I begged Jane, but she strode around me anyway and opened the door.
“Your Grace,” she said.
I froze as she stepped aside for him. I could not have prepared myself for the sight. The blood. The bruising. I sucked in a breath.
“Georgiana,” Lucas said.
“Your face,” I whispered as I hurried toward him. I’d seen him defend me. Heard his yelling, the gasps from the onlookers. He’d done it all for me. I fell into his embrace.
“Are you ... leaving?” His voice faltered.
“Lucas, your eye.” His arms were around my waist as I lifted a finger to the drying blood along his brow. I traced down his temple, wincing as I noted the split in his lower lip. “What happened?”
“Reynolds and I had a conversation. He will never hurt you again.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I chided him. I grasped his arms, firm and unyielding and warm as they held me to him. “Lucas, sit down. Jane, get us water, please.”
She rushed out of the room.
My gaze washed over his face, tracking every cut, every bruise, every fleck of dried bloodIhad caused, and it pained me to my core. I wanted to cry, seeing him like this, but his hold felt so secure. I felt so safe as he tightened his arms around me and held me together. Wounded himself, but here to heal. I did not deserve it.
“Why did you—”
