Tomorrow, he would visit Bragg and make it clear that Louise and Emily were off-limits. He would set inquiries in motion to find George.
As for tonight … he had two refugees under his roof, and a growing certainty that his carefully ordered life would never be the same.
A scratch at the door interrupted his brooding. Buttercup padded in, a biscuit still clutched in his mouth and settled by the fire with a contented groan.
“Traitor,” Aaron muttered. “She’s been here five minutes, and you’re already smitten.”
The dog’s tail thumped once, twice, then stilled as he fell asleep.
Aaron envied him for the simplicity.
Outside, snow fell again, covering London’s sins in temporary white.
Somewhere in this city, Lord Sulton was hiding. Somewhere, Bragg was plotting his next move.
But here, in Calborough House, Lady Louise and her sister slept safely for the first time in God knew how long.
Aaron raised his glass to the window in a mock toast to the chaos he’d invited into his life.
Dawn had barely touched London’s rooftops when Aaron’s carriage rolled to a stop outside a nondescript building in Southwark.
The establishment bore no sign, no indication of the business conducted within. But Aaron had made inquiries before retiring the previous night, and his sources were reliable. This was where Silas Bragg held court.
He descended from the carriage and addressed his driver without turning. “Wait here. If I’m not out in thirty minutes, fetch the magistrate.”
“Your Grace?—”
“Thirty minutes.”
The door was unlocked. Aaron pushed through into a narrow corridor that smelled of stale tobacco and last night’s gin. A heavyset man dozed on a stool near the entrance, a cudgel resting across his knees. He jerked awake at Aaron’s approach, reaching for his weapon.
Aaron didn’t slow his stride. “I’m here to see your employer. You can announce me, or you can try to stop me. I wouldn’t recommend the latter.”
Something in his tone penetrated the man’s sluggish brain. He scrambled off his stool and disappeared through a door at the end of the corridor.
Aaron followed at his own pace.
The room beyond was larger than expected, furnished with a gaudy attempt at respectability. Bragg sat behind a mahogany desk that had seen better days with a cup of tea steaming at his elbow. Two more brutes flanked him, their hands resting on pistols tucked into their belts.
Bragg’s expression cycled through surprise, wariness, and finally a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Your Grace. What an unexpected pleasure.”
“I doubt that.” Aaron stopped in the center of the room, making no move to sit in the chair clearly intended for supplicants. “You know why I’m here.”
“Do I?” Bragg spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. “I’m a simple businessman. I have so many dealings, it’s difficult to keep track.”
“Then allow me to refresh your memory. Last night, you attempted to use Lady Louise Burrows to entrap me. You threatened her sister, a child of six, to ensure her compliance.”
Bragg’s smile thinned. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Lady Louise and I have never met.”
“Don’t.” Aaron’s voice dropped to something quiet and cold. “I have no patience for games, and you have no talent for them. You sent that woman into a private room at White’s with instructions to compromise me. When that failed, you had your men ransack her home and terrorize her household.”
“Accusations without proof are dangerous things, Your Grace. Even for a duke.”
Aaron reached into his coat. Both guards tensed, hands tightening on their weapons. He withdrew a folded document and tossed it onto Bragg’s desk.
“The deed to the Sulton debt. Eight thousand pounds, paid in full. You’ll sign it over as settled, and you’ll add a written statement that you have no further claim against Lord Sulton or any member of his family.”
Bragg didn’t touch the document. “And if I refuse?”
