“I’ve been thinking about George,” she finally said. “About where he might go, who might help him.”
Aaron leaned back, studying her face. The morning light revealed faint shadows beneath her eyes, suggesting sleep had eluded her as much as it had him.
“Go on.”
“He has accountants. Two of them, actually.” Louise moved closer to the desk, her voice gaining confidence. “There’s Mr. Hargrave in Cheapside. I believe he handled the estate’s finances after Father died.”
“Hargrave. Yes, my contact mentioned him and spoke to the man. He claimed he hadn’t seen George in months.”
Louise nodded as if she had expected this. “George wouldn’t go to him for anything questionable. But there’s another man. Mr. Marcus Pellam.”
The name meant nothing to Aaron, which in itself was telling. He prided himself on knowing every significant financial player in London.
“I’ve never heard of him.”
“You wouldn’t have. He operates from Whitechapel, near the docks. George used him for his riskier ventures.” Color rose in her cheeks. “I know because I often helped George with hisledgers when things became too complicated for him to manage alone.”
Aaron felt his jaw tighten. She had been cleaning up her brother’s messes for far longer than he had realized.
“You know where to find this Pellam?” he asked.
“His office is above a tavern called the Rusty Anchor. It’s not a respectable establishment.” Louise met his gaze directly. “We should go at night. There will be fewer people around to recognize us, and Pellam keeps late hours.”
The thought of taking Louise to Whitechapel after dark sent protective instincts roaring through him, but he recognized the wisdom in her suggestion. And after his promise last night to include her in the search, he could hardly refuse now.
“Tonight then. We’ll leave after dinner.” He paused, then added more gently, “Thank you for trusting me with this information.”
Something flickered in her eyestoo quick to identify. “We have an agreement now, don’t we? Complete honesty about George.”
Before he could respond, a small knock interrupted them. Emily’s head appeared around the door, copper curls escaping from her ribbons.
“Your Grace? May I come in?”
“Emily.” Louise’s tone held gentle reproach. “His Grace is working.”
“It’s all right.” Aaron stood, drawn by the child’s hesitant expression. “What can I do for you, Lady Emily?”
Emily entered fully, and he noticed she held something behind her back. Her small face bore an expression of such serious concentration that he had to fight not to smile.
“I made you something.” The words emerged in a rush. “To say thank you. For everything. For letting us live here, and buying me the butterfly comb, and being nice. Even when you look all stern and scary.”
“Emily!” Louise’s mortification was clear.
But Aaron found himself oddly charmed. He moved around the desk, crouching to bring himself to Emily’s eye level. “I look scary?”
“Sometimes. When you’re thinking hard about things, your face goes all …” Emily scrunched her features into an exaggerated scowl that bore no resemblance to any expression Aaron had ever made.
Louise covered her mouth, clearly fighting laughter.
“Well then,” Aaron said seriously, “I will have to practice looking less frightening. I don’t want you to be scared of me.”
Then, Emily produced her gift with a flourish. It was a small fabric pouch, clumsily sewn with uneven stitches in bright blue thread. Something inside made a rattling sound when she moved it.
“It’s a good luck charm,” Emily explained. “Miss Whitfield helped me sew the bag, but I chose everything that goes inside.”
Aaron accepted the gift with the same gravity he would show in receiving a gift from the Prince Regent. “May I ask what’s inside?”
“A button from Louise’s favorite dress, the one she had to sell.” Emily’s voice dropped to a whisper, as if sharing the royal family’s secrets. “A pebble from our old garden. A ribbon from Mother’s sewing box. And …” She glanced at Louise, then back to Aaron. “A chess piece. The knight. Because you’re like a knight, protecting us.”
