The words hung between them, and Aaron wondered with sudden fierce hunger what it would be like to be counted among that number. To have Louise’s fierce loyalty directed at him.
Her lips parted as she stared up at him, confusion flickering across her features. The afternoon light streaming through the windows caught in her hair, turning copper to flame. Aaron leaned closer without conscious thought, drawn by something stronger than reason.
Her breath caught. Time suspended between one heartbeat and the next.
“Good.” The word emerged as barely more than a growl. Aaron stepped back abruptly, distance the only defense against whatever madness had nearly overtaken him. “See that you remember it. I won’t warn you twice.”
He strode from the room, not trusting himself to look back. In the hallway, he paused, pressing his palms against the cool wall. Control. He needed control.
“Your Grace?”
Mr. Thornton approached with careful deference. “A Mr. Howlett to see you, Your Grace. You asked him to call?”
That was quick.
Good.
Business would clear his head.
“Send him to my study.”
The Runner waited inside, a compact man with intelligent eyes that missed nothing. He rose as Aaron entered, offering a brief bow.
“Your Grace. I’ve made inquiries as you requested.”
“And?”
“Lord Sulton was seen four nights ago at a gaming hell in Seven Dials. By all accounts, he lost heavily playing hazards. The dice were not his friend that night. When he couldn’t pay, there was an altercation.”
Aaron moved to his desk, needing the barrier. “Was he injured?”
“Minor injuries. He fled before the proprietor could call in reinforcement.” Howlett consulted a small notebook. “The concerning part is what happened after.”
“Go on.”
“He was seen near the docks two nights later. Meeting with unsavory types. The name Wigram came up.”
Aaron’s jaw tightened. Ernest’s intelligence had been correct. “John Wigram. The smuggler.”
“You know of him?”
“By reputation.” Aaron pulled out his purse. “What’s George’s involvement?”
“Unknown at present. But Wigram doesn’t meet with gentlemen unless there’s profit involved.” Howlett accepted the payment with a nod. “Shall I continue surveillance?”
“Discretely. I want to know exactly what Lord Sulton has gotten himself into before we act.”
“Understood, Your Grace.”
After Howlett departed, Aaron stood at his window, looking at the garden below. Louise had moved outside with Emily and Aunt Cecilia. The child threw sticks for Buttercup while the women sat on a bench, heads bent in conversation. The late afternoon sun caught Louise’s hair, making it glow. After a few minutes, his aunt rose and headed back toward the house.
The door opened without ceremony. Only one person dared to make such a presumption.
“You’ll join us for dinner.” Cecilia’s tone brooked no argument.
“I have correspondence to address.”
“It can wait.” She moved beside him, following his gaze to the garden. “That young woman is trying desperately to maintain dignity while her world crumbles. The least you can do is share a meal.”
