Chapter 2
“What are you doing here?” Aaron stood in the doorway of the private suite, his hand still on the brass handle.
The woman before him clearly didn’t belong in this room of White’s, where gentlemen conducted business best left unexamined by polite society.
She was certainly beautiful. Copper hair caught the lamplight like burnished flame, and her green eyes held intelligence that her nervous fidgeting couldn’t disguise.
Yet everything about her screamed innocence, from the modest cut of her evening dress to the way she clutched her reticule as if it might protect her from whatever came next.
“Perhaps we should have a drink to pass the time together.” Her accent was polished, her tone even, though her voice trembled on the last word.
Aaron stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him, noting how she tracked his movement like a deer watching a wolf.
Interesting.
He’d received the cryptic message an hour ago, promising information about an investment opportunity that required discretion. Instead, he found this.
“By all means.” He gestured to the sideboard, where crystal decanters gleamed. “I confess, I am curious to hear about the business mentioned in the note I was given.”
She moved toward the whisky with a determination that might have been convincing if her hands hadn’t shaken as she poured. The amber liquid sloshed dangerously close to the rim. She downed hers in one desperate swallow, then coughed, her eyes watering.
Aaron left his glass untouched as he took off his coat and hung it on the hook by the door. “You’re not accustomed to whisky.”
“I frequently enjoy it.” The lie was so transparent he almost smiled.
“Of course you do. Just as you frequently meet strange men in private rooms, I suppose.”
Color flooded her cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re implying, Your Grace.”
So, she knew who he was. That answered one question while raising a dozen others.
Aaron moved closer, studying her with the same attention he’d give a dubious contract. Quality clothes that were carefully mended. Refined features that spoke of good breeding. And a bearing that came from years of proper education.
A lady.
But what was a lady doing here, playing at seduction with all the skill of a child attempting to quote Shakespeare?
“I’m implying,” he said slowly, “that someone has put you up to this. The question is who, and why.”
She lifted her chin with admirable courage. “No one has put me up to anything. I’m here because I choose to be.”
“Really?” Aaron circled her slowly, noting how she turned to keep him in sight. “And what is it you’re choosing, exactly?”
“Your company.” She attempted what was probably meant to be a sultry smile. It came across as a grimace. “Surely a man of your … experience … understands what I’m offering.”
Aaron stopped directly in front of her, close enough to see the pulse hammering at her throat.
“What I understand is that you’re terrified,” he told her. “Your hands are shaking, your breathing is shallow, and you keep glancing at the door as if calculating whether you could reach it before I could stop you.”
Her composure cracked slightly. “You have a very active imagination, Your Grace.”
“Do I? Then by all means, convince me.” He leaned against the mantel, crossing his arms. “Show me what an experienced woman of pleasure you are.”
Panic flashed across her features before she marshaled her courage. She approached him with determined steps that faltered when she got within arm’s reach. Her hand lifted toward his chest, hesitated, then dropped.
“I …” She swallowed hard. “That is, we could …”
“We could what?” Aaron kept his voice deliberately mild, but something about her distress stirred an unexpected protectiveness in him. “If you’re going to seduce me, you should at least be able to articulate the plan.”
Anger flared in her eyes, the first genuine emotion she’d shown. “You’re mocking me.”
“I’m trying to understand what’s happening here. Because it’s obvious that someone has sent you to trap me.” He straightened, using his height to his advantage. “I’m not in the habit of being bribed with virgins.”
She gasped, her hand flying to her throat. “How dare you …”
“I dare because it’s written all over you. From your proper curtsy when I walked in, to the way you can’t even look at me directly when you’re offering companionship.” Aaron moved closer, and she backed away until the wall stopped her retreat. “So, I’ll ask again. Who sent you?”
“No one.” Her voice broke on the word.
“Try again.”
“I told you. I’m here because I choose to be.”
Aaron planted his hands on the wall on either side of her, caging her in without touching. She pressed back against the wallpaper, her breathing quick and shallow.
This close, he could smell her perfume, something simple and floral that suited her far better than this tawdry scene.
“Look at me,” he said.
She lifted her chin and met his eyes, and in her steady gaze, he saw everything there. Fear, determination, and underneath it all, a desperation that made his chest tighten.
“Whatever hold they have on you,” he said quietly, “whatever threat they’ve made, I can help. But only if you tell me the truth.”
For a moment, her resolve wavered. Her lips parted as if she might speak. Aaron took a step toward the door, ready to leave her to whatever explanation she refused to give.
Then footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, and terror transformed her features.
“Please.” She gripped his arm with sudden urgency. “Please don’t leave. If you leave now, something terrible will happen.”
“To you?”
“No. To someone I …” She shook her head. “Just stay. An hour. Maybe less. That’s all I ask.”
Aaron studied her face, reading the genuine terror there. Someone had a blade to this woman’s throat, metaphorically, if not literally. The question was whether he wanted to involve himself in whatever scheme was unfolding.
“If I stay,” he said slowly, “you’ll tell me everything. No more lies, no more acting.”
She nodded quickly. “Yes. I promise. Just not yet. When it’s safe.”
Aaron stepped back, giving her room to breathe. She sagged against the wall, relief and exhaustion warring on her face.
Whoever she was, whatever her purpose here, she was no practiced seductress. She was a pawn, and not a willing one.
He took a long gulp from his drink, taking his time, using the moment to think. The message that brought him here had been signed by a Mr. Reginald Blackburn, supposedly a textile merchant seeking investors. Yet the handwriting had seemed familiar …
“You might as well sit,” he said without turning. “If we’re to maintain this pretense for an hour, you should at least be comfortable.”
Fabric rustled as she moved to one of the leather chairs. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t agreed to anything.” Aaron turned to face her. “What’s your name?”
She hesitated. “Does it matter?”
“Everything matters when someone attempts to snare me in a trap.”
“Louise.” She said it quietly, as if the name itself was a confession. “My name is Louise.”
“Louise.” He tested the name, watching her reaction. “And who is it that frightens you so badly you’d attempt this charade?”
She shook her head. “I can’t. Not yet.”
Aaron moved to the chair across from her, setting his drink aside untouched. “Then let me guess. Someone has leverage over you. Financial, most likely, given the quality of your dress and the care with which it’s been maintained. You’re wellborn, but you have fallen on difficult times.”
Her fingers twisted in her lap. “Please stop.”
“You have someone you’re protecting. A husband? No, you wear no ring, and you have the air of someone unaccustomed to men’s intimate company. A family member, then. Someone whose welfare matters more to you than your own reputation.”
“Your Grace …”
“The question is whether this is simple blackmail or something more complex.” Aaron leaned forward. “Tell me, Louise, does the name Bragg mean anything to you?”
The color drained from her face so completely he thought she might faint.
That answered that question.
“I see it does.” Aaron’s jaw tightened.
He’d suspected Bragg might eventually attempt revenge for the gaming hall affair, but using an innocent woman as his weapon was low, even for him.
“He sent you here.”
It wasn’t a question, but she nodded anyway, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“What does he have on you?”
Her throat worked. “My family … we’re in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” he pressed.
A beat. Then another. She closed her eyes as if bracing for a blow.
“My brother,” she whispered.
Aaron waited.
“He owes someone money.” The admission seemed torn from her.
“How much?”
She shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes.
His tone softened. “How much?”
A long pause. “Eight thousand pounds.” The words tumbled out as if a dam had broken. “My brother has disappeared, and Bragg says if I don’t … if I don’t share your bed tonight, he’ll take my sister. She’s only six years old.”
Aaron cursed under his breath. “Where is your brother?”
“I don’t know. He’s been missing for a week. I’ve searched everywhere I could think of, but there’s been no word.” Louise lifted her chin. “I know what you must think of me, but I couldn’t let him hurt my sister.”
Aaron rose and moved to the window, staring out at the gaslit street below.
A missing young man owing eight thousand pounds … he’d heard whispers.
When she said her brother’s name was George, it clicked. George Burrows. They’d been at Cambridge together before George had fallen in with exactly the sort of crowd that led to owing money to men like Bragg.
“You’re Lord Sulton’s sister.”
“Yes.”
The pieces fell into place. The Sulton family’s decline had been fodder for gossip for months. Properties sold, staff dismissed, the Marquess himself increasingly absent from society events. And his sisters left to bear the consequences.
“Get up.”
“Pardon?”
“We’re leaving. Now.” Aaron grabbed his coat from the hook by the door.