“Doesn’t it?”
He didn’t draw her closer yet. His gaze held hers, steady, assessing. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m allowed to be afraid,” she snapped. “You’ve taken everything out of my control.”
“I took you away from a dangerous situation that would have destroyed you.”
The carriage hit a rut, throwing Louise forward. Aaron’s free hand came up to steady her, fingers splaying across her waist. For a heartbeat, they stayed frozen, her lips so close to his she could feel his breath.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. “This is a mistake.”
“Everything about tonight is a mistake.”
Yet she didn’t pull away.
The carriage turned sharply onto a quieter street, breaking the spell.
Aaron released her so abruptly she nearly fell back against the seat. He pressed himself into his own corner, jaw tight, willing his pulse to slow.
Fool.
He had nearly kissed her. Nearly compromised a vulnerable woman in his own carriage like some rutting schoolboy.
Louise straightened her skirts with trembling fingers, her gaze fixed firmly on the window. The gaslight caught the flush still staining her cheeks.
“You know where I live.” It wasn’t a question.
“I make it my business to know things. Particularly about men who owe money to criminals.” Aaron met her sharp glance without apology. “Your brother approached me six months ago seeking investment in a shipping venture. I declined. The venture was obviously fraudulent, and George was obviously desperate. After that, I kept informed of his circumstances.”
“You investigated my family.”
“I investigated a poor investment risk. Your family happened to be attached.”
She turned back to the window, and he watched her shoulders stiffen as the houses grew shabbier.
The grand facades of Mayfair had given way to the respectable but faded gentility of Bloomsbury. He knew this route. Knew the address. Knew more about the Burrows family’s decline than Lady Louise would likely thank him for.
The carriage slowed as they turned onto her street. Aaron shifted forward, looking past her through the window, and his blood ran cold.
“Lady Louise.”
“What? That’s not … oh God.”
Sulton House’s front door hung open, light spilling onto the street. Even from here, he could hear sounds of distress from within.
He was out of the carriage before it fully stopped, Louise close behind despite his gesture for her to stay. The front door stood wide open, hanging at an odd angle as if forced.
Aaron entered first, his body tensing at what he found.
The entrance hall had been torn apart. Drawers pulled out, their contents scattered across the floor. A mirror lay shattered, its gilded frame cracked down the middle.
“Mrs. Fielding? Hartley?” Louise pushed past him.
Muffled sounds came from the parlor. Aaron moved swiftly toward the noise, Louise at his heels. Their elderly butler sat slumped against the wall, blood trickling from a gash on his temple, just beginning to stir back to consciousness. In the corner, the woman he assumed was Mrs. Fielding and two housemaids sat bound back-to-back with rope, fabric gags tied around their mouths.
Aaron pulled out his penknife, slicing through the bonds with quick, efficient strokes. The moment the gag fell away, Mrs. Fielding gasped.
“Men came, my lady. Three of them with pistols.” The housekeeper’s words tumbled out. “They locked Lady Emily inher room upstairs to keep her quiet. They said it’ll be the last time they’ll leave without her.”
