“Oh, good, you’re both here.” She seemed unsurprised to find them together. “Buttercup had a nightmare. At least, I assume that’s why he was whimpering. He needs comfort.”
The massive dog padded over to Louise, resting his head against her hip with a pathetic whine that was clearly manufactured for sympathy.
“You fraud,” Louise said fondly, scratching behind his ears.
“I’ll leave him in your capable hands then.” Cecilia turned to go, then paused. “Oh, and tomorrow we’re visiting the orphanage. Both of you. Emily insists, and I’ve learned not to argue with six-year-olds or giant dogs.”
She swept out, leaving Aaron and Louise standing in the library with a dog who had clearly been deployed as a chaperone.
“Your aunt is not subtle,” Louise observed.
“Not even slightly.” Aaron moved to bank the fire properly. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow will undoubtedly involve chaos if Emily and Cecilia are planning it together.”
Louise shelved the book of fairy tales Emily had insisted on returning. At the door, she paused, looking back at him with an expression that made his chest tight.
“Your mother would be proud of who you’ve become,” she said quietly. “The notes in that poetry book show a woman who understood love’s complexities. She would understand yours, too.”
She left before he could respond, taking Buttercup with her. Aaron stood alone in the library, his mother’s poetry book in his hands, thinking about love and loss and the precious, temporary gift of Louise’s presence in his life.
CHAPTER 30
“I’ve found him, Your Grace.”
Howlett stood in Aaron’s study three weeks after the library encounter, his weathered coat still damp from the morning drizzle that had plagued London for days. The Runner’s expression held the grim satisfaction of a hunter who had finally cornered an elusive prey.
Aaron set down his pen, the letter to his estate manager forgotten. “George?”
“Not exactly. But a man matching his description has been making inquiries in Limehouse. Trying to arrange a meeting with Wigram.” Howlett pulled out his notebook with his fingers, finding the relevant page with practiced ease. “Goes by the name of Sullivan, but the description fits Lord Sulton perfectly.”
“When?”
“Tonight. Midnight. There’s an alley off Rope Walk, near the old warehouse district. Wigram uses it for exchanges when he wants privacy.” Howlett shifted his weight, hesitating. “Your Grace should know that my men can’t assist. We’re deep in surveillance of Wigram’s larger operation. If we show ourselves now, months of hard work disappear.”
Aaron rose and moved to the window where gray light filtered through rain-streaked glass. “I understand. I’ll handle it myself.”
“Your Grace.” Howlett’s voice carried a warning. “That area isn’t a gentleman’s gaming district. Men disappear there regularly, and the fog off the river makes it perfect for an ambush. Wigram’s men won’t hesitate to slit a duke’s throat if properly motivated.”
“Then I’ll ensure they’re not motivated.” Aaron turned back to face the Runner. “The exact location?”
Howlett wrote it down, the pen hovering for a moment before it moved. “Third alley past the rope maker’s shop. Look for the broken lamp post. At least take armed men with you.”
“That would only escalate matters.” Aaron accepted the paper, memorizing the location before feeding it to the fire. “Thank you, Howlett. Continue your surveillance. Whatever happens tonight doesn’t involve you.”
The Runner departed with clear misgivings, leaving Aaron alone with the weight of what lay ahead. He had perhaps ten hours toprepare, to decide whether to risk everything on what might be a false lead or an elaborate trap.
A knock interrupted his planning. Louise entered before he could respond. Her expression betrayed her. She had been eavesdropping. Again.
“I’m coming with you.”
Aaron answered, his jaw tightening on the last word. “Absolutely not.”
“George is my brother.” She closed the door behind her, moving into the room with a determination he had learned to both admire and dread. “I have more right to this than you do.”
“Rights have nothing to do with it. A dark alley in the East End at midnight is no place for a lady.”
“Then I’ll go as something else.” Louise lifted her chin in a way that meant battle. “I can pass for a young man in the dark.”
“Louise, be reasonable.”
