Somewhere in London, George was hiding or running or making choices that would destroy them all.
And she was supposed to sit here and wait.
Louise pressed her forehead against the cold glass. She’d spent her entire life managing, fixing, solving.
How could she unlearn that in one night?
Two hours later, she heard hoofbeats on the street below. The duke, cloaked and mounted, heading into the snowy night. Louise watched until he disappeared into the swirling white.
Then she went to her wardrobe and pulled out her cloak.
Emily was safe with Cecilia. The staff wouldn’t check on her until morning. And Louise was tired of being protected like some porcelain doll.
She slipped down the servants’ stairs, grateful for childhood years spent sneaking through her father’s house. The side door opened silently. Snow immediately dusted her shoulders, but Louise pulled her hood up and stepped into the night.
George’s lodgings weren’t far. She’d visited once, months ago, appalled at the shabby rooms he’d chosen for himself. Formally, he lived with Louise and Emily in their house, but he’d often come here whenever he wanted time to himself.
Following the duke’s tracks in the fresh snow was almost too easy.
What she’d do when she caught him was another question entirely.
But Louise had given up control of everything else. She wouldn’t give this up, too. Not when it was her brother, her family, her responsibility to bear.
The snow fell heavily, muffling sound, turning London into something from a fairy tale. If only the ending could be as happily ever after as those stories promised.
But Louise had learned long ago that fairy tales were lies told to children. Real life required harder choices.
And she was about to make one.
CHAPTER 9
“What the devil are you doing here?” Aaron stared at the cloaked figure in the doorway of Sulton’s lodgings, snow swirling around her like she’d materialized from the storm itself.
Louise pushed back her hood, hair immediately catching snowflakes, her chin lifting in that way that meant she was preparing for battle.
“The same thing you are.” She stepped past him into the shabby rooms, shaking snow from her cloak. “Looking for clues about my brother.”
Fury and something else, something hot and unwelcome, coursed through Aaron’s veins. “You followed me.”
“You made it rather easy.” Louise moved to the desk, already rifling through papers. “A single rider on a snowy night isn’t particularly subtle.”
“I told you to stay at Calborough House.”
“You told me many things.” She didn’t look up from her search. “I chose which ones to heed.”
Aaron crossed the room in two strides, catching her wrist. “This isn’t a game. The men your brother is involved with wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you.”
Louise turned to face him fully, and he realized his mistake. Standing this close, he could see the snowflakes melting on her lashes, the flush in her cheeks from the cold, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Her pulse hammered beneath his fingers.
“Then it’s fortunate you’re here to protect me.” The words carried a challenge that had nothing to do with her brother.
Aaron released her wrist as if burned. “I cannot believe you’re this stubborn.”
“I’m practical.” Louise pulled her cloak tighter against the cold as they climbed the narrow stairs. “I know George’s habits, his hiding places. You’re wandering blind.”
She had a point, though Aaron would rather walk through fire than admit it.
At the top of the stairs, an older woman in a threadbare wrapper blocked their path, a candle trembling in her grip.
