Chapter 19
“May I speak with you?”
Aaron looked up from his morning correspondence to find Louise hovering in the doorway of his study.
After last night’s encounter in the library, he had expected awkwardness between them. Instead, she stood with purposeful determination, dressed in a practical morning gown that made her look like the responsible companion rather than the woman who had come apart in his arms mere hours ago.
“Of course.” He set down his pen, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. “Please, sit.”
She entered but remained standing, her fingers twisting together in a gesture he recognized as nervous energy rather than uncertainty.
“I’ve been thinking about George,” she finally said. “About where he might go, who might help him.”
Aaron leaned back, studying her face. The morning light revealed faint shadows beneath her eyes, suggesting sleep had eluded her as much as it had him.
“Go on.”
“He has accountants. Two of them, actually.” Louise moved closer to the desk, her voice gaining confidence. “There’s Mr. Hargrave in Cheapside. I believe he handled the estate’s finances after Father died.”
“Hargrave. Yes, my contact mentioned him and spoke to the man. He claimed he hadn’t seen George in months.”
Louise nodded as if she had expected this. “George wouldn’t go to him for anything questionable. But there’s another man. Mr. Marcus Pellam.”
The name meant nothing to Aaron, which in itself was telling. He prided himself on knowing every significant financial player in London.
“I’ve never heard of him.”
“You wouldn’t have. He operates from Whitechapel, near the docks. George used him for his riskier ventures.” Color rose in her cheeks. “I know because I often helped George with his ledgers when things became too complicated for him to manage alone.”
Aaron felt his jaw tighten. She had been cleaning up her brother’s messes for far longer than he had realized.
“You know where to find this Pellam?” he asked.
“His office is above a tavern called the Rusty Anchor. It’s not a respectable establishment.” Louise met his gaze directly. “We should go at night. There will be fewer people around to recognize us, and Pellam keeps late hours.”
The thought of taking Louise to Whitechapel after dark sent protective instincts roaring through him, but he recognized the wisdom in her suggestion. And after his promise last night to include her in the search, he could hardly refuse now.
“Tonight then. We’ll leave after dinner.” He paused, then added more gently, “Thank you for trusting me with this information.”
Something flickered in her eyestoo quick to identify. “We have an agreement now, don’t we? Complete honesty about George.”
Before he could respond, a small knock interrupted them. Emily’s head appeared around the door, copper curls escaping from her ribbons.
“Your Grace? May I come in?”
“Emily.” Louise’s tone held gentle reproach. “His Grace is working.”
“It’s all right.” Aaron stood, drawn by the child’s hesitant expression. “What can I do for you, Lady Emily?”
Emily entered fully, and he noticed she held something behind her back. Her small face bore an expression of such serious concentration that he had to fight not to smile.
“I made you something.” The words emerged in a rush. “To say thank you. For everything. For letting us live here, and buying me the butterfly comb, and being nice. Even when you look all stern and scary.”
“Emily!” Louise’s mortification was clear.
But Aaron found himself oddly charmed. He moved around the desk, crouching to bring himself to Emily’s eye level. “I look scary?”
“Sometimes. When you’re thinking hard about things, your face goes all …” Emily scrunched her features into an exaggerated scowl that bore no resemblance to any expression Aaron had ever made.
Louise covered her mouth, clearly fighting laughter.
“Well then,” Aaron said seriously, “I will have to practice looking less frightening. I don’t want you to be scared of me.”
Then, Emily produced her gift with a flourish. It was a small fabric pouch, clumsily sewn with uneven stitches in bright blue thread. Something inside made a rattling sound when she moved it.
“It’s a good luck charm,” Emily explained. “Miss Whitfield helped me sew the bag, but I chose everything that goes inside.”
Aaron accepted the gift with the same gravity he would show in receiving a gift from the Prince Regent. “May I ask what’s inside?”
“A button from Louise’s favorite dress, the one she had to sell.
” Emily’s voice dropped to a whisper, as if sharing the royal family’s secrets.
“A pebble from our old garden. A ribbon from Mother’s sewing box.
And …” She glanced at Louise, then back to Aaron.
“A chess piece. The knight. Because you’re like a knight, protecting us. ”
Aaron found his throat unexpectedly tight. He cleared it carefully before speaking. “Thank you, Lady Emily. This is the finest gift I’ve ever received.”
Emily beamed. “Really?”
“Absolutely. I shall treasure it always.” He tucked the small pouch into his waistcoat pocket, patting it to show it was secure. “There. Now I’ll carry your good luck with me.”
Emily threw her arms around his neck in an impulsive hug that nearly knocked him off balance. He caught her automatically, feeling the bird-light weight of her, the trust implicit in her embrace.
“Emily,” Louise said softly. “Let His Grace return to his work.”
Emily pulled back, but not before whispering in Aaron’s ear, “You make Louise smile. That’s really why I made you the gift.”
She scampered out before he could respond, leaving Aaron still crouched on the floor, feeling as though a very small person had just seen straight through every wall he had ever built.
“I apologize,” Louise said. “She doesn’t understand proper boundaries.”
Aaron stood slowly, his hand going to the pocket where Emily’s gift rested. “She understands more than that.”
They looked at each other across the space of his study, the memory of last night hanging between them like morning mist. Louise’s cheeks flushed, and he knew she was remembering too.
“Tonight,” he said, his voice rougher than intended. “We’ll find Pellam.”
“Tonight,” she agreed, then fled his study with considerably less dignity than she had entered it.
Aaron returned to his desk, but he was unable to concentrate on correspondence.
His hand kept returning to the small pouch in his pocket, feeling the irregular shapes within through the fabric.
The button, the pebble … Pieces of a life that had been stripped away and preserved by a six-year-old who understood the weight of memory.
The knight protected them.
Aaron pulled out the pouch, examining Emily’s uneven stitches, each one made with determination, if not skill. He thought of his own childhood, cold and formal, where gifts were purchased by servants and presented on appropriate occasions with appropriate ceremony.
No one had ever made him anything with their own hands.
He carefully returned the gift to his pocket, then rang for Thornton.
“Your Grace?”
“Send word to the stable. I’ll need the unmarked carriage tonight, after dark. And have a footman lay out simple clothing for me. Something that won’t draw attention in Whitechapel.”
If Thornton found the request unusual, his expression revealed nothing. “Very good, Your Grace.”
After the butler departed, Aaron returned to his correspondence, but his thoughts remained fixed on the evening ahead. Taking Louise to Whitechapel violated every instinct he possessed, yet he had promised to include her.
And perhaps, he admitted to himself, he wanted her company. Wanted to work alongside her rather than around her.
His hand found Emily’s gift again, fingers tracing the lumpy contents through fabric, and his fingers traced the knight chess piece.
Emily had called him a knight. If only the child knew how poorly suited he was for the role. Knights were supposed to be noble, pure of heart and intention.
Aaron thought of Louise pressed against the library shelves, her soft sounds of pleasure, the way she had trusted him completely. Nothing noble there, only desperate want and the constant battle not to take more than he should.
But tonight, he would be what they needed. He would help Louise find her brother, protect her in the dangerous streets of Whitechapel, and maintain the careful boundaries that kept her reputation intact.
Even if those boundaries were already crumbling.
Even if every moment in her presence made him want to tear them down entirely.
Tonight, they would find Pellam. And perhaps, if Emily’s good luck charm worked, they would finally find George.
Then Louise and Emily could have the future they deserved, even if it was a future that didn’t include him.