Emily caught her eye and smiled, radiant with joy.
Yes. This would be enough. This had to be enough.
CHAPTER 15
“Your lordship, a message.”
Aaron paused on the steps of White’s, recognizing the ragged boy who sometimes ran errands for Howlett. The child couldn’t be more than ten, thin as a wraith despite the coins the Runner surely paid him.
“From Mr. Howlett?” Aaron accepted the folded paper, already knowing what it would say.
“Yes, Your Grace. Said it was urgent you got it.”
Aaron pressed a sovereign into the boy’s grimy palm, watching his eyes widen at the unexpected fortune. “Get yourself a proper meal. And a coat. Winter’s not finished with us yet.”
The boy clutched the coin and vanished into the crowd before Aaron could change his mind. He unfolded the message, reading Howlett’s handwriting:
No trace of Lord S. Searched usual haunts for Wigram and his men. Will continue.
Aaron crumpled the paper and let it fall into the gutter. Three days until the ball, and George remained as elusive as smoke. The fool was either very clever or very lucky. Given what Aaron knew of Louise’s brother, he suspected the latter wouldn’t hold much longer.
Aaron entered Calborough House through the front door, handing his coat to a footman, when he heard something extraordinary.
Laughter. Not just any laughter, but the sound of pure joy echoing from the drawing room. He followed the sound and stopped dead in the doorway.
Someone had pushed the furniture against the walls, creating a makeshift stage in the center of the room. Emily stood on an ottoman, draped in what appeared to be one of Cecilia’s old cloaks, her arms spread dramatically. Beside her, Buttercup sat wearing what could only be described as a doublet, fashioned from burgundy curtain fabric, a paper ruff around his massive neck.
“But soft!” Emily proclaimed with theatrical fervor while gesturing dramatically at the window, standing beside Buttercup. “What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!” She placed her small hand on Buttercup’s massive head and spoke in what she clearly thought was a man’s voice. “It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!”
Buttercup chose that moment to begin chewing the edge of his costume.
“Romeo, you’re supposed to be pining, not dining,” Cecilia said from her position as apparent director.
She wore an elaborate turban that had been fashionable thirty years ago, wielding a walking stick like a conductor’s baton.
“What on earth is happening here?”
Three heads turned toward him. Four, if he counted Buttercup, who wagged his tail so enthusiastically his ruff slipped sideways.
“We’re performing Shakespeare,” Emily announced proudly. “I’m Juliet, and Buttercup is Romeo because he’s the only gentleman available.”
“Buttercup has the sensitive soul required for Romeo,” Cecilia added with perfect seriousness. “See how he yearns?”
Aaron looked at the dog, who had progressed from chewing his costume to trying to scratch behind his ear despite the restrictive doublet.
“Yearning. Yes, I see it.”
A sound drew his attention to where Louise sat curled in a chair by the window. She had her hand pressed to her mouth, clearlytrying to stifle laughter. When their eyes met, her mirth escaped in a small snort that she immediately tried to cover with a cough.
Something shifted in Aaron’s chest, warm and dangerous.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Cecilia commanded. “Sit down. We’re just getting to the good part.”
Aaron moved to the only other available chair, which was next to Louise. He settled carefully, maintaining a proper distance, though he could smell her lavender scent, could see the way afternoon light caught the copper in her hair.
“Continue, Romeo,” Cecilia instructed.
Buttercup had given up on his costume and lay down with a heavy sigh.
