Something shifted in his expression.
Is that regret?
Before she could identify it, he looked away. “That wasn’t my meaning.”
“Wasn’t it?” she scoffed.
He met her gaze again, and the intensity there made her stomach flip. “You take responsibility for failures that aren’t yours. Your brother’s debts. Your father’s death. Your mother’s absence. None of those are your fault.”
“Emily is my responsibility.”
“She’s your sister, not your daughter.”
“I’m all she has.”
“Not anymore.”
The simple statement carried weight that pressed against Louise’s chest. She drew in a sharp breath and glanced toward Cecilia and Emily’s gentle chatter.
“This isn’t the place for such a conversation,” she whispered, the words tight, controlled.
“Perhaps not,” he murmured, “but it doesn’t make it less true.”
“Dessert!” Emily’s delighted exclamation shattered the tension. “Is that trifle?”
“Your favorite, I’m told.” Cecilia winked at the child.
Louise watched her sister’s face light up and felt her anger drain away.
Emily was happy. Fed. Safe. Warm. Everything else was just pride.
The meal concluded with Emily practically vibrating with sugar and excitement. Cecilia suggested they retire to the drawing room, but the duke rose first.
“Lady Louise, might I speak with you privately?”
Louise’s pulse jumped. “Of course.”
She followed him to his study, acutely aware of the breadth of his shoulders, the controlled grace of his movements. The room smelled of leather and brandy and so … Masculine. Intoxicating.
Aaron closed the door and moved to his desk, putting distance between them. “I’ve had news about your brother.”
Louise’s hands found each other, fingers twisting. “You’ve learned something about George?”
“I met with a man at Bow Street this morning. A Runner named Howlett.” Aaron pulled out a sheet of paper. “He’s made some inquiries on my behalf.”
“And?”
“George was seen at a gaming hell in Seven Dials four nights ago. He lost heavily at hazard. When he couldn’t pay, there was an altercation.” Aaron paused. “He fled before the proprietor could call in reinforcements.”
“Four nights.”
Before they’d arrived here. Before everything changed.
“Was he hurt?” she asked.
“Minor injuries, according to Howlett’s sources. But he hasn’t been seen since.”
Louise’s fingers twisted tighter. A gaming hell. An altercation. George fleeing into the night with men after him. It was worse than she’d imagined, and yet entirely predictable. How many times had she warned him about his gambling? How many times had he promised to stop?
