Chapter 21
“You look like hell.” Ernest studied Aaron across the private room at White’s, his assessment delivered with the blunt honesty only decades of friendship permitted.
Aaron lifted his coffee cup, willing his hand to remain steady. “Charming as always, Wilstone.”
“When did you last sleep properly?” Ernest leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing with speculation. “And don’t claim it’s worry over Sulton. You’ve handled far more complex situations without looking like you’ve been trampled by your own horses.”
Aaron had had too much time to think on his way to White’s. Every rotation of his carriage’s wheels reminded him of Louise in his chambers, the soft sounds she made when pleasure overtook her, the way she offered herself so completely ….
He forced the memories away, focusing on the man across from him.
“I need your advice about finding Sulton.” Aaron set down his cup with deliberate precision. “We’ve hit a dead end.”
“We?” Ernest’s eyebrow arched. “Would this ‘we’ include a certain copper-haired companion?”
“The search has revealed he took critical evidence with him. A ledger documenting his involvement with Wigram’s operations.”
Ernest accepted the deflection with visible amusement. “Then stop chasing Sulton, and start chasing Wigram. The first will surface wherever Wigram operates. Follow the criminal, find the fool.”
The logic was sound. Aaron nodded slowly, already restructuring his search parameters. “Wigram operates at several locations. It would require a great deal of surveillance.”
“Which you can afford.” Ernest poured himself more coffee, his movements casual but his gaze sharp. “Though I suspect money isn’t what’s actually troubling you.”
Aaron remained silent. Ernest had always possessed an uncanny ability to see through his walls.
“She’s gotten under your skin.” Ernest set down the coffee pot with unnecessary force. “Lady Louise. Don’t bother denying it. You practically claimed her in front of all London at the ball.”
“That was a foolish move on my part.”
“Was it?” Ernest leaned forward. “Because from where I stood, it looked like a man finally being honest about what he wanted.”
Aaron pushed back from the table, moving to the window.
Below, Mayfair conducted its morning business, servants hurrying on errands, carriages rolling past. Everything orderly, proper, and contained within boundaries.
“She deserves better.” The words emerged without conscious decision. “A man without my history, my father’s shadow, my inability to …”
“To what? Love?” Ernest appeared beside him at the window. “You’ve spent so long convinced that you’re your father, that you’ve forgotten a fundamental truth.”
“Which is?”
“Your father never questioned whether he deserved the women he pursued. Never worried about their welfare beyond his own pleasure. Never tried to protect them from himself.” Ernest gripped Aaron’s shoulder.
“The very fact that you’re torturing yourself over Lady Louise proves you’re nothing like him. ”
Aaron wanted to believe it. But he thought of Louise’s trust, her vulnerability, the way she looked at him as if he could be the man Emily’s gift suggested. A protector. A knight.
“I take advantage of her dependence on me. She lives under my roof and relies on my charity. How is that any different from father?”
“Because you’re trying to save her brother, protect her sister, and secure their future.” Ernest squeezed his shoulder once before releasing it. “And because she chooses you, despite having every reason not to.”
Before Aaron could respond, a footman appeared in the doorway. “Your Grace, Mr. Howlett has arrived for your appointment.”
Aaron nodded, grateful for the interruption.
Ernest gathered his gloves and hat but paused at the door. “You’re a better man than you give yourself credit for, old friend. Perhaps it’s time you let someone else see that too.”
Aaron did not respond before heading off to find the Runner.
Howlett waited in a private room, his professional bearing unchanged despite the elegant surroundings. The Runner rose as Aaron entered, a gesture of respect that always made Aaron slightly uncomfortable.
“Your Grace. Thank you for meeting me here.”
Aaron gestured for him to sit. “Have you made progress?”
“Some.” Howlett pulled out his notebook, fingers finding the relevant page. “Wigram’s been seen at three different locations in the last week. He seems agitated, asking questions about Lord Sulton at every stop.”
“He’s still hunting.”
“Aggressively. Whatever Lord Sulton took, Wigram wants it badly enough to risk exposure.” Howlett tapped his pencil against the notebook. “His usual business has suffered from the distraction.”
Aaron considered this. Ernest’s suggestion gained merit with each detail. “I want you to shift focus. Stop searching for Sulton directly.”
Howlett’s expression sharpened with interest. “Your Grace?”
“Follow Wigram instead. Document his movements, his associates, his operations. If Sulton surfaces anywhere near Wigram’s enterprise, I want to know immediately.”
“That’s dangerous surveillance.” Howlett chose his words carefully. “Wigram has killed men for less than watching him too closely.”
“Then be careful. But be thorough.” Aaron pulled out a leather purse, substantially heavier than usual. “Hire whatever additional men you need. Trustworthy ones.”
Howlett accepted the purse. “I’ll need a week to establish proper surveillance. Maybe two.”
“Take whatever time is necessary. But when Sulton appears, we need to move quickly.”
“Understood.” Howlett rose, tucking the purse inside his coat. “Your Grace, if I may … Lord Sulton’s sisters. Do they know how deeply he’s involved?”
Aaron thought of Louise in his chambers, trembling as she absorbed the truth about her brother’s crimes. “They know enough.”
“It’s just …” Howlett shifted uncomfortably. “Men like Wigram don’t forgive debts. Even if we find Lord Sulton, even if we clear the financial obligation, there’s the matter of whatever he took. Wigram will want blood for that betrayal.”
The words confirmed what Aaron already knew. Finding George was only the beginning. Keeping him alive would require either Wigram’s death or displacement, neither easily accomplished.
“Let me worry about Wigram’s forgiveness.” Aaron moved toward the door, indicating the meeting’s end. “Focus on finding him. When George surfaces, contact me immediately, day or night.”
Howlett departed with promises of regular updates. Aaron remained in the empty room and thought of Ernest’s uncomfortable truths.
His friend saw too much and understood too well the battle raging inside him. Every moment with Louise weakened his resolve, made him want things he had no right to desire. Last night, with her in his bed, her trust absolute, her pleasure his only focus, he had felt something dangerous.
Complete.
As if all the fractured pieces of himself suddenly aligned, creating someone worthy of the faith Emily and Louise placed in him.
But morning always came, bringing with it the weight of reality.
His father’s legacy. The impossibility of their situation.
The knowledge that wanting her was selfishness disguised as affection.
Aaron left White’s, instructing his driver to take a circuitous route home. He needed time to rebuild his walls before facing Louise again. Time to remember why maintaining distance protected them both.
But as the carriage rolled through London’s streets, he pulled out Emily’s gift, feeling the lumpy contents through the fabric.
Perhaps Ernest was right. Perhaps being aware of his capacity for destruction made him different from his father. Perhaps wanting to protect Louise rather than possess her meant something.
Or perhaps that was simply another lie he told himself to justify the unjustifiable.
He would find George. He would secure Louise and Emily’s future.
And then he would let them go, no matter how much it destroyed him to do so.