CHAPTER 20
“Keep your head down and stay close.” Aaron’s voice came low beside her ear as their unmarked carriage rolled through the narrow streets of Whitechapel.
Louise pulled her dark cloak tighter, the rough wool foreign against skin accustomed to silk and muslin. Through the window, she watched taverns spill yellow light and raucous laughter into the fog-shrouded streets.
The carriage stopped beside a building that seemed to lean against its neighbors for support. Above a tavern door, a sign reading “The Rusty Anchor” creaked in the wind. The sound of breaking glass and shouting emerged from within.
“Perhaps you should wait here,” Aaron suggested, though his tone indicated he already knew her answer.
“We go together or not at all.” Louise met his gaze steadily. “That was our agreement.”
He helped her from the carriage with his hand firm on her elbow as they navigated the treacherous entrance. The tavern’s interior reeked of cheap gin and unwashed bodies. Men hunched over scarred tables looked up at their entrance. Their eyes were sharp with predatory interest until they saw Aaron’s face. Something in his expression made them quickly look away.
They climbed a narrow staircase that groaned beneath their weight. At the top, a single door bore a small brass plate: “M. Pellam, Financial Services.”
Aaron knocked. Silence. He knocked again, harder.
“We’re closed.” The voice from within sounded nervous.
“Mr. Pellam? I need to discuss Lord Sulton’s accounts,” his voice was low, only for Pellam’s ears.
More silence, then the sound of multiple locks being undone. The door opened a crack, revealing a thin face with darting eyes.
“I don’t know any Lord Sulton.”
Aaron pulled out a leather purse, letting the coins inside clink audibly. “I think you do.”
Pellam’s eyes fixed on the purse. The door opened wider, and a man who looked like a ferret in human form, all quick movements and suspicious glances, appeared.
“Come in. Quickly,” he urged.
The office was cramped and dim, every surface covered with ledgers and loose papers.
“What do you want to know?” He snatched the purse when Aaron offered it, weighing it expertly.
“Everything about Lord Sulton’s dealings.” Aaron’s voice carried ducal authority even in simple clothes. “Particularly anything involving Rupert Wigram.”
Pellam went still. “I don’t know that name.”
“The weight of this purse says otherwise.”
The accountant’s tongue darted nervously across his lips. He scurried to a cabinet and then pulled out several ledgers. “Lord Sulton’s accounts. Everything from the last two years.”
Louise watched Aaron flip through the books and saw his jaw tighten as he absorbed the extent of George’s financial incompetence. Bad investments, worse gambling debts, and schemes that bordered on fraudulent, she was sure.
Her brother hadn’t just been unlucky. He had beencatastrophicallyfoolish.
“There’s nothing here about Wigram.” Aaron set down the last ledger with controlled frustration.
Pellam shifted nervously, then moved to check his cabinet again. His movements grew increasingly frantic. “There’s one missing. A black leather one with the gold clasp.”
“Missing?” Louise stepped forward. “Since when?”
“Lord Sulton came here a fortnight ago. Very agitated. He said he urgently needed to review something.” Pellam wrung his hands and sucked nervously at his teeth. “He must have taken it. He was very particular about that ledger, always insisting I keep it separate from the others.”
“What was in it?” Aaron demanded.
“I never looked closely. Lord Sulton paid extra for my discretion.” Pellam’s voice dropped. “But … I did catch a glimpse of shipping manifests. Cargo lists. Things that didn’t match any legitimate business I knew of.”
