Ernest leaned against the wall beside him, champagne in hand, amusement written across his features.
“I’m merely ensuring she’s properly chaperoned.”
“By four of the most formidable women in London?” Ernest’s eyebrow arched. “Yes, clearly she needs your protection from the Dowager Brigade.”
“She’s my responsibility until her brother is found.”
“Found?” Ernest’s voice dropped lower. “No luck yet, then?”
“None.” Aaron took a sip of his champagne, scanning the crowd for Louise. She stood with the Duchess of Raynsford now, her face animated as they discussed something. “Howlett has leads, but George remains frustratingly elusive.”
“Probably for the best, given what you told me about his associations.” Ernest swirled his glass. “And in the meantime, you’ve installed his beautiful sister in your household and appointed yourself her protector.” Ernest studied him with uncomfortable perception. “How very noble of you.”
“Someone had to help them.”
“Of course.” Ernest’s eyebrow arched. “That explains why you nearly took my head off when I complimented her earlier.”
“I did nothing of the sort.”
“And I suppose your jaw isn’t clenching right now because Sheridan is looking at her like she’s the last sweet at a tea party?”
Aaron forced his jaw to relax. It didn’t work.
“Aaron.” Ernest’s voice gentled. “We’ve known each other since Eton. You can lie to yourself if you wish, but don’t insult my intelligence.”
Aaron said nothing, his attention drawn back to Louise despite his best efforts. The silk of her gown caught the light with every gesture, making her glow like she’d been touched by moonlight.
“She’s beautiful,” Ernest observed. “And clearly wellborn, despite her current circumstances. Once her brother returns from his … adventures … she’ll have suitors lining up.”
The thought sent an unexpected spike of rage through Aaron. He gripped his champagne flute so tightly he feared it might shatter.
“There.” Ernest pointed with his glass. “That’s what I’m talking about. You look ready to challenge someone to a duel, and all I did was mention theoretical suitors.”
“The lady is under my protection. Any suitors would need to be carefully vetted.”
“By you?”
“By—”
“And I suppose your jaw isn’t clenching right now because Thornbury is circling her like a hawk eyeing a field mouse?”
Aaron’s gaze snapped to where Baron Thornbury had materialized at Louise’s elbow. The man had a reputation for charming widows and compromising debutantes, his handsome face and straightforward manner concealing a predatory nature that made Aaron’s fists itch.
“Aaron?” Ernest’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “You’re crushing your glass.”
The orchestra struck up a waltz. Aaron watched in growing fury as the baron extended his hand to Louise, clearly requesting a dance. She hesitated for just a moment, glancing around the ballroom before placing her hand in Thornbury’s.
Aaron moved without conscious thought. One moment, he stood beside Ernest, the next, he was striding across the ballroom, ignoring the startled looks and hasty movements to clear his path.
“Lady Louise.”
She turned, eyes widening as he appeared at her elbow. Thornbury’s hand was still extended, waiting.
“Your Grace.” Her voice held a note of warning.
“You promised me the first waltz.” The lie came out smooth as silk, his hand capturing hers before she could protest.
“I don’t recall?—”
