“I’m in mourning.” The words emerged bitter as winter air.
“For what?”
For morning walks in a garden that wasn’t theirs. For Emily’s laughter echoing through halls they’d never own. For strong hands, gentle in her hair, and a voice saying her name like a prayer.
“For the life we had before you became a criminal.” She let him hear the sharp edges of her anger.
George absorbed the blow in silence. They rolled through Mayfair, past Calborough House with its windows glowing like golden eyes in the darkness. Louise forced herself not to look, not to wonder which room held him, not to imagine him standing at those windows watching the city sleep.
“The duke still pays for Miss Whitfield.” George’s observation came carefully neutral.
“An oversight, I’m sure.”
“Louise.” Her name carried all the gentleness he could manage. “You love him.”
She closed her eyes against the truth of it. “It doesn’t matter what I feel.”
“Doesn’t it? He fought for us, searched for me, protected you both.”
“And then he let us go.” The words scraped her throat raw. “Without a word of protest, without asking us to stay, without fighting for what we’d found together.”
George reached across the darkness, his hand covering hers. “Perhaps he’s as frightened as you are.”
Louise thought of Aaron’s face that last morning, the way he had stood so carefully distant, holding himself apart as if proximity might shatter his resolve.
“Fear is a luxury we can’t afford.” She pulled her hand away. “We have Emily to think of, debts to manage, your testimony to survive. Whatever existed between the duke and me is finished.”
The lie settled between them like a third passenger, taking up space they couldn’t spare.
At Sulton House, Emily slept curled in their mother’s chair by the dying fire, a book of fairy tales open in her lap. Louise lifted her carefully, carrying her to bed while George banked the coals.
Emily stirred as Louise tucked the covers around her. “Did you see him tonight?”
“Who, darling?”
“The duke.” Emily’s eyes opened, too knowing for six years. “You always look sadder when you might see him.”
Louise smoothed copper hair back from her sister’s forehead. “Sleep now. Lady Merrow comes tomorrow with Buttercup.”
“I wish we could just go home.” Emily’s whisper barely disturbed the air.
Louise pressed her lips to her sister’s forehead, tasting salt from tears she hadn’t realized were falling.
“So do I, sweetheart. So do I.”
But home wasn’t a place anymore. It was a person who had chosen fear over love, safety over joy, isolation over the terrifying possibility of happiness.
And that was a door that, once closed, could never be opened again.
CHAPTER 36
“The eastern drainage system requires immediate attention.”
Cartwright spread the blueprints across Aaron’s desk as morning light revealed dust motes drifting through air that smelled of stale brandy and regret. He did not comment on the empty decanters, the untouched breakfast tray, or the fact that his employer still wore yesterday’s shirt.
Aaron forced his attention to the proposed improvements, calculating costs with the part of his mind that still functioned. The rest remained frozen in that moment five days ago when Louise had walked through his door for the last time.
“The tenants have also requested repairs to the mill house roof.” Cartwright showed another section of the plans. “Before winter sets in properly.”
