But she was already fleeing up the servants’ stairs, her vision blurring with tears she refused to let fall until she reached the safety of her chamber. The door clicked shut behind her, and she turned the key with trembling fingers.
Only then did she let herself collapse.
She pressed her face into the pillow to muffle the sobs that tore from her chest. Tomorrow she would leave this house, where she had found such unexpected happiness. Tomorrow, she would return to Sulton House with its cold rooms and mounting bills and memories of desperation. Tomorrow, she would begin forgetting what it felt like to be cherished by Aaron Morrison.
But tonight, she allowed herself to mourn the future that had never truly been possible. The tears soaked through the pillowcase as she grieved for Emily’s laughter in these halls, for Lady Merrow’s warm conspiracies, for Buttercup’s chaos, for Aaron’s rare smiles that transformed his austere beauty into something breathtaking.
Most of all, she wept for the words he hadn’t said. The fight he hadn’t fought. The love he wouldn’t allow himself to claim.
Through the wall, she heard footsteps in the corridor. They paused outside her door, and for one heart-stopping moment, she thought he might knock. Might say the words that would change everything.
The footsteps moved on.
Louise buried her face deeper in the pillow and let herself break apart in the darkness, knowing that come morning, she would have to piece herself back together and pretend her heart wasn’t shattered beyond repair.
The candle on her bedside table guttered and died, leaving her in darkness as complete as the emptiness that had opened in her chest where hope used to live.
CHAPTER 32
“You abandoned us for weeks and weeks without a word.”
Emily stood before George at the breakfast table, her small fists planted on her hips, chin lifted in perfect imitation of Louise’s battle stance. Her brother sat frozen with his teacup halfway to his mouth, clearly unprepared for confrontation from a six-year-old.
“Emily, I?—”
Her palm connected with his shoulder with a sharp smack that echoed through the morning room. George’s tea sloshed dangerously.
“You scared Louise so much she cried at night when she thought I was sleeping.” Emily’s voice trembled but held firmly. “You’re supposed to be the big brother. You’re supposed to protect us, not run away.”
George’s face flushed as he opened his mouth to respond. Aaron met his gaze across the table, his expression hardening. Whatever George had intended to say died unspoken.
Louise, from her place by the sideboard, added a look of her own.
George’s mouth snapped shut. He set down his teacup with careful precision and nodded. “You’re right, Emily. I should have been better.”
The child studied him for a long moment, then turned on her heel and marched to her chair with a dignity that would have impressed a duchess.
Aaron fought an inappropriate urge to applaud.
“George,” Louise’s voice carried forced brightness as she moved toward her brother, “may I present Lady Merrow? Lady Merrow, my brother, Lord Sulton.”
George rose immediately, executing a bow that might have been elegant if his hands hadn’t been shaking. “Lady Merrow. I cannot adequately express my gratitude for your kindness to my sisters.”
“Kindness?” Cecilia’s eyebrow arched as she swept into the room, Buttercup padding behind her. “My dear boy, hosting your sisters has been the most entertainment I’ve had in years.Although I must say, you look rather worse for wear than I expected of an earl.”
George’s fingers went to his bruised jaw, a souvenir from Aaron’s tackle the night before. “Yes, well, circumstances have been?—”
Buttercup’s low growl cut him off. The dog stood bristling beside Emily’s chair, his lips pulled back just enough to show impressive teeth.
“Good boy.” George extended his hand toward the dog. “We haven’t met, but?—”
Buttercup turned his massive head away with deliberate disdain and pressed against Emily’s leg instead. The child wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his fur.
George’s hand dropped. Even the dog found him wanting.
They gathered at the table, leaving too much space between them. Aaron watched Louise serve herself with careful precision, her fingers white against the spoon. She kept her gaze fixed on the dish.
The space between them felt vast as an ocean, even though only polished mahogany separated their places.
