“He’s nothing like that,” Louise said firmly.
“No, he’s not. But wounds like his don’t often respond to logic.” Lady Merrow resumed walking, her expression thoughtful. “Aaron built walls so high and thick that he convinced himself they were the only things keeping everyone safe. The problem with such walls is they don’t just keep danger out. They keep everything out.”
“Including love.”
“Especially love.” Lady Merrow squeezed Louise’s arm gently. “Though I suspect someone might have found cracks in those fortifications.”
Louise thought of Aaron in his chambers, vulnerable as he shared his mother’s sketchbook. The way he touched her with such reverence, as if she were precious beyond measure. The way he denied himself pleasure while ensuring hers, maintaining her innocence even as passion consumed them both.
“I don’t … I don’t know if that’s true, my lady,” Louise denied, trying her best to tell that to herself, as well.
“My dear girl, do not fool yourself. You’ve already reached him. That he struggles with maintaining distance means you’ve gotten closer than anyone else ever has.” Lady Merrow guided them back toward the park entrance, where their carriage waited. “The question is whether you have the patience to wait for him to realize he’s allowed to be reached.”
Louise helped Lady Merrow manage Buttercup’s enthusiastic attempt to greet their driver. As they settled into the carriage, she considered everything she had learned.
“Thank you,” Louise said quietly. “For telling me.”
“I probably shouldn’t have. Aaron values his privacy above all things.” Lady Merrow reached over to pat Louise’s hand. “But I see how you look at each other. More importantly, I see how Lady Emily looks at both of you. That child has lost enough. She doesn’t need to lose the chance at a proper family because my nephew is too frightened to accept love.”
The word hung between them, acknowledged but not examined. Louise turned to watch London pass through the window, her mind spinning through everything she now understood.
Aaron wasn’t cold. He was terrified. Every kindness he showed them came with the fear that he was beginning a pattern that would end in their destruction. Every moment of passion carried the weight of his father’s legacy.
She thought of his hands in her hair, gentle as he restored her appearance after their encounter. The way he held himself apart even as everything in him clearly yearned for closeness. The careful boundaries he maintained to protect her innocence while his own needs went unmet.
He was trying so hard to be good that he couldn’t see he already was.
And she had no idea how to convince him of that.
CHAPTER 23
“She shouldn’t be here.”
The whisper carried just far enough for Aaron to hear as he entered Lady Whitmore’s music room with Louise on one arm and Cecilia on the other.
The speaker, a viscountess whose name he had never bothered to learn, fell silent when his gaze found her.
“Pardon?” Aaron kept his voice pleasant, though something dangerous threaded through it. “I didn’t quite catch that, my lady.”
The woman paled. “I was merely commenting on the crowd, Your Grace.”
“Were you?” He stepped closer, bringing Louise with him, feeling her fingers tighten on his arm. “How curious. It soundedremarkably like you were questioning my aunt’s choice of companion.”
Silence rippled outward from their small group. Aaron let it build, let the weight of his regard settle on the woman until perspiration beaded on her upper lip.
“Because surely,” he continued, each word precise as a blade, “no one would be foolish enough to insult a member of my household. That would be synonymous with insulting me directly. And we all know how I respond to insults.”
The woman’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish. Around them, the assembled guests suddenly found the ceiling fascinating, the floor riveting, anything to avoid meeting his eyes.
“Your Grace,” Louise’s voice came soft beside him, her fingers pressing against his arm in gentle warning. “Perhaps we should find our seats?”
He allowed her to guide him away, though not before delivering one last look that sent the gossip scurrying toward the refreshment table.
Cecilia watched the retreat with obvious satisfaction. “Beautifully done, nephew. Though perhaps a touch heavy-handed.”
“They need to understand that Louise is your companion and should be treated properly.” The words came out rougher than he intended.
Louise released his arm the moment they reached their chairs, and he immediately missed the warmth of her touch. She wore sage green silk tonight, modest but perfectly fitted, her ginger hair arranged in a simple style that somehow made her lovelier than any elaborate hairstyle could.
