Louise set down her cards carefully. “Oh, is that so, Your Grace?” she turned to Lord Landsdowne. “I am sorry, my lord. I hope you’ll be able to find another partner to finish your game.”
“Oh, don’t worry, my lady. I shall be all right,” Landsdowne offered a smile, then turned to Aaron. “Your Grace.”
“Lansdowne.” Aaron nodded back, then extended his hand to her, a command disguised as courtesy. “Your presence is required.”
She rose without taking his hand. “Thank you for the game, Lord Lansdowne.”
Aaron motioned her to meet him in the corridor, where he went first.
Louise waited five minutes before she met him there, and he guided her through the crowd, past curious faces and raised eyebrows, out onto a balcony where cold air bit through her silk gown.
“Is something wrong?” she asked him.
He pursed his lips. “Forgive me. My behavior has been terrible. But … watching other men court you while I stand aside, knowing that any one of them could offer you what I can’t …”His hands gripped the stone so tightly she feared it might crack. “Every smile you give them feels like glass in my chest. Every dance, every conversation, every moment you spend in their company reminds me that I have no right to you.”
“Aaron …” she replied, and his head snapped towards her, his features now softened, but he stepped away from her the moment she inched closer.
He bowed formally, the duke once more, rather than the desperate man who had just confessed. “You and Cecilia can stay here and return with my carriage. I’ll call for a hackney.”
“Aaron—”
He shook his head. “Enjoy your night, Louise. You deserve it.”
Louise watched him leave, her heart fracturing with each step he took. She remained on the balcony, letting the cold numb her skin, if not her emotions, trying to understand how they had come to this.
He wanted her, but wouldn’t have her. She wanted him, but couldn’t reach him.
They were trapped in a prison of his making, and she was fearing neither of them would survive it intact.
CHAPTER 25
“Lord Galway seems quite taken with your companion,” Ernest remarked while surveying the Pemberton soirée with practiced boredom.
The drawing room overflowed with London’s elite, all pretending the intimate gathering was by choice rather than winter weather keeping larger venues inaccessible.
Aaron watched Galway lean closer to Louise, explaining something that apparently required gesturing with both hands. She nodded politely, her expression attentive but neutral, offering nothing beyond courtesy. Still, the man persisted, clearly interpreting politeness as encouragement.
“Galway collects beautiful things.” Aaron kept his voice level despite the violence building in his chest.
“And you’re going to let him collect her?”
The question hung between them while Aaron watched Louise respond to something Galway said. She smiled slightly, the expression never reaching her eyes, but Galway beamed as if she had granted him the crown jewels.
You are not your father, Aaron reminded himself.You do not own her. You have no right to the jealousy eating through your control like acid.
But the litany of rational thoughts did nothing to stop the rage building as Galway touched Louise’s elbow, guiding her toward the refreshment table. The gesture lasted perhaps two seconds, but Aaron felt each moment like a brand against his skin.
“Aaron?” Ernest’s voice held concern. “You’re crushing your glass again.”
Aaron set the champagne down carefully, forcing his hands to relax. Across the room, Louise accepted a glass from Galway with a murmured thanks. She maintained proper distance, kept her responses brief, and did nothing to encourage his attention.
Which somehow made it worse.
She wasn’t flirting. She wasn’t encouraging. She was simply existing in her quiet grace, and men like Galway couldn’t help but circle her like moths to flame. Or more aptly, wolves to a lamb.
And Aaron stood there, watching other men want what he had denied himself, what he had pushed away in the name of protecting her.
His father would have crossed the room and claimed her publicly, consequences be damned. He would have marked his territory with displays of possession that left no doubt of ownership.
