Aaron found his throat unexpectedly tight. He cleared it carefully before speaking. “Thank you, Lady Emily. This is the finest gift I’ve ever received.”
Emily beamed. “Really?”
“Absolutely. I shall treasure it always.” He tucked the small pouch into his waistcoat pocket, patting it to show it was secure. “There. Now I’ll carry your good luck with me.”
Emily threw her arms around his neck in an impulsive hug that nearly knocked him off balance. He caught her automatically, feeling the bird-light weight of her, the trust implicit in her embrace.
“Emily,” Louise said softly. “Let His Grace return to his work.”
Emily pulled back, but not before whispering in Aaron’s ear, “You make Louise smile. That’s really why I made you the gift.”
She scampered out before he could respond, leaving Aaron still crouched on the floor, feeling as though a very small person had just seen straight through every wall he had ever built.
“I apologize,” Louise said. “She doesn’t understand proper boundaries.”
Aaron stood slowly, his hand going to the pocket where Emily’s gift rested. “She understands more than that.”
They looked at each other across the space of his study, the memory of last night hanging between them like morning mist. Louise’s cheeks flushed, and he knew she was remembering too.
“Tonight,” he said, his voice rougher than intended. “We’ll find Pellam.”
“Tonight,” she agreed, then fled his study with considerably less dignity than she had entered it.
Aaron returned to his desk, but he was unable to concentrate on correspondence. His hand kept returning to the small pouch in his pocket, feeling the irregular shapes within through the fabric. The button, the pebble … Pieces of a life that had been stripped away and preserved by a six-year-old who understood the weight of memory.
The knight protected them.
Aaron pulled out the pouch, examining Emily’s uneven stitches, each one made with determination, if not skill. He thought of his own childhood, cold and formal, where gifts were purchased by servants and presented on appropriate occasions with appropriate ceremony.
No one had ever made him anything with their own hands.
He carefully returned the gift to his pocket, then rang for Thornton.
“Your Grace?”
“Send word to the stable. I’ll need the unmarked carriage tonight, after dark. And have a footman lay out simple clothing for me. Something that won’t draw attention in Whitechapel.”
If Thornton found the request unusual, his expression revealed nothing. “Very good, Your Grace.”
After the butler departed, Aaron returned to his correspondence, but his thoughts remained fixed on the evening ahead. Taking Louise to Whitechapel violated every instinct he possessed, yet he had promised to include her.
And perhaps, he admitted to himself, he wanted her company. Wanted to work alongside her rather than around her.
His hand found Emily’s gift again, fingers tracing the lumpy contents through fabric, and his fingers traced the knight chess piece.
Emily had called him a knight. If only the child knew how poorly suited he was for the role. Knights were supposed to be noble, pure of heart and intention.
Aaron thought of Louise pressed against the library shelves, her soft sounds of pleasure, the way she had trusted him completely. Nothing noble there, only desperate want and the constant battle not to take more than he should.
But tonight, he would be what they needed. He would help Louise find her brother, protect her in the dangerous streets of Whitechapel, and maintain the careful boundaries that kept her reputation intact.
Even if those boundaries were already crumbling.
Even if every moment in her presence made him want to tear them down entirely.
Tonight, they would find Pellam. And perhaps, if Emily’s good luck charm worked, they would finally find George.
Then Louise and Emily could have the future they deserved, even if it was a future that didn’t include him.
