“Must we leave today?” Emily’s question dropped into the silence like a stone into still water.
Louise’s hand stilled on her teacup. “Darling, we’ve discussed this. The duke and Lady Merrow have been more than generous, but we have our own home.”
“I don’t want our own home.” Emily’s lower lip trembled. “I want to stay here with Buttercup and Lady Merrow and Cook, who makes special biscuits and—” Her voice cracked. “This is home.”
“Emily.” Louise reached for her sister, but the child jerked away.
“No! You don’t understand! We were happy here. Really happy. Not pretend happy like when you smile, but your eyes are sad.” Tears rolled down Emily’s cheeks. “Why do we have to leave?”
She bolted from the room before anyone could answer. Louise rose to follow, but Emily’s footsteps were already thundering up the stairs.
Louise pressed her fingers to her temples. Aaron’s hand moved involuntarily toward hers across the table, then froze. George watched the aborted gesture with sudden, sharp interest.
“Excuse me.” Louise fled after her sister without looking at any of them.
The morning room fell silent except for Buttercup’s whine as he padded after them.
“Well.” Cecilia set down her teacup with unnecessary force. “George, you’re an idiot.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. Your sisters found safety and happiness here, and now you’re dragging them back to that cold house with its memories and debts.”
George’s jaw clenched. “It’s their home.”
“A home you abandoned.” Cecilia rose from her chair with regal fury. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to comfort a heartbroken child whose world is being upended. Again.”
She swept out, leaving Aaron alone with George. They sat in mutual discomfort, the breakfast cooling between them.
George stared at the door they’d gone through, then turned to Aaron with an expression of dawning comprehension. “She loves you.”
Aaron’s gaze snapped to George, who seemed to have found his courage again in his sisters’ absence.
“Louise. She watches you when she thinks no one’s looking. Like you hung the moon and stars specifically for her.”
Aaron picked up his coffee cup to avoid responding. The liquid had gone cold, bitter on his tongue.
“And you love her.” George continued with the air of a man with nothing left to lose. “You look at her like she’s the only real light in a world of shadows.”
“Your point?”
“My point is that I’m taking her away and you’re letting me.” George leaned forward, his earlier timidity completely gone. “Why?”
Aaron set down his cup with excessive care. “Because it’s what’s best for them.”
“According to whom?”
“According to society. According to propriety. According to?—”
“According to fear.” George’s voice held surprising compassion. “You think you’re protecting her, but you’re just afraid.”
Aaron’s hand clenched on the table. “You know nothing about?—”
“I know I ran because I was afraid. Afraid of facing my failures, afraid of disappointing them more than I already had.” George’s fingers drummed against the wood. “Don’t make my mistake, Your Grace. Don’t let fear dressed up as nobility cost you everything.”
Before Aaron could respond, footsteps approached. Louise appeared in the doorway, Emily’s hand in hers. The child’s face was blotchy from crying, but she held her head high.
Behind them, Cecilia wore an expression of grim determination.
