Chapter 22
“That woman’s pelisse is an absolute crime against fashion,” Lady Merrow delivered her verdict while maintaining a perfectly pleasant expression, nodding politely at the lady in question, who passed them on the frost-covered path.
Hyde Park stretched around them in winter splendor, bare trees etched against a pearl-gray sky.
Louise glanced at the offending garment, a vivid purple creation with enough trim to outfit a small regiment. “Perhaps she enjoys making a statement.”
“The only statement that makes is that her modiste despises her.” Lady Merrow adjusted Buttercup’s lead as the dog investigated a nearby tree. “Although I suppose we should be grateful. Someone needs to make the rest of us look elegant by comparison.”
They walked in companionable silence for several minutes, their boots crunching on frozen grass. Other fashionable Londoners took advantage of the brief respite from snow, couples strolling arm in arm, children racing ahead of harried governesses.
Louise watched them all with the strange detachment that came from existing between worlds, neither fully of society nor entirely outside it.
“You’re unusually quiet, dear.” Lady Merrow steered them toward a less populated path. “Our walks usually involve you attempting to keep me from saying something scandalous to unsuspecting passersby.”
Louise pulled her cloak tighter against the wind. “I was simply thinking.”
“Ah.” Lady Merrow studied her with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. “Would these thoughts involve my nephew, by any chance?”
Heat flooded Louise’s cheeks despite the cold. “Why would you think that, my lady?”
“Because you get the same expression he does when trying to solve an impossible puzzle. All furrowed brow and compressed lips.” Lady Merrow paused to untangle Buttercup from his own lead. “Also, because you’ve been stealing glances at each other like besotted adolescents for days now.”
Louise focused on the path ahead, unable to deny the observation. “May I ask you something, my lady?”
“You may ask anything. Whether or not I answer depends entirely on the question.”
“What was she like … Aaron’s mother?”
Lady Merrow’s steps slowed. For a moment, Louise thought she had overstepped, but then the older woman smiled with such tenderness it transformed her face.
“Margaret was sunshine personified. Rather like your Emily, actually. Sweet, curious, finding joy in the smallest things.” Lady Merrow bent to adjust Buttercup’s collar, her voice softening with memory. “She had this laugh that made you want to share every amusing thought, just to hear it again.”
“Aaron said his father was madly in love with her.”
“Obsessed would be more accurate.” The warmth disappeared from Lady Merrow’s tone. “Charles didn’t love Margaret so much as possess her. He wanted to own her light, to keep it locked away where only he could enjoy it.”
They paused beside a small pond where ducks huddled against the cold. Buttercup whined hopefully, but Lady Merrow gripped his lead tightly.
“She died shortly after Aaron was born.” Lady Merrow’s words came carefully now, weighted with old grief. “Charles went mad with it. Locked away everything of hers, forbade anyone to speak her name. And Aaron …”
“He grew up thinking he killed her.”
“You understand him better than I realized.” Lady Merrow turned to study Louise’s face. “Yes. Charles never said it directly, but children know. They always know when they’re considered a poor replacement for what was lost.”
Louise thought of Aaron showing her his mother’s sketchbook, the wonder in his voice at discovering her words of love.
“You visited him, though. You didn’t let him grow up entirely alone.”
“I tried. Charles barely tolerated my presence, but I was Margaret’s sister.
He couldn’t completely bar me without causing talk.
” Lady Merrow resumed walking, her pace brisker now as if outrunning hard memories.
“I watched that sweet boy turn into something icy and controlled because it was the only way to survive in his father’s house. ”
“There were other women?” Louise kept her voice neutral, though her chest tightened at the thought.
Lady Merrow’s laugh held no humor. “Charles collected mistresses like some men collect art. Beautiful things to possess, enjoy, and discard when they no longer pleased him.”
“Aaron mentioned that his father wasn’t kind to them.”
“Kind.” Lady Merrow tested the word like something bitter. “The late Duke preferred not to leave marks that society might question. Oh, he struck women when he thought no one would know, when they were too powerless to speak of it. But his true cruelty lay in subtler destructions.”
Louise waited, sensing more beneath the careful words.
“He would lavish attention on them and make them feel like the center of the universe. Then, when they believed themselves special, irreplaceable, he would withdraw completely. Take a new mistress and flaunt her while the previous one still lived under his protection.” Lady Merrow’s grip on Buttercup’s lead tightened.
“He destroyed them slowly, all while maintaining the appearance of a generous protector.”
“How horrible.”
“Aaron watched it all. A boy forced to witness his father’s casual cruelty, unable to intervene, learning that this was what powerful men did to women who trusted them.” Lady Merrow stopped walking, turning to face Louise fully. “Is it any wonder he fears becoming that man?”
Understanding flooded through Louise like ice water. Aaron’s hot and cold behavior, his desperate control, his insistence on maintaining boundaries even as he broke them.
He wasn’t rejecting her. He was terrified of becoming his father, of destroying her the way the late duke had destroyed so many others.
“He’s nothing like that,” Louise said firmly.
“No, he’s not. But wounds like his don’t often respond to logic.
” Lady Merrow resumed walking, her expression thoughtful.
“Aaron built walls so high and thick that he convinced himself they were the only things keeping everyone safe. The problem with such walls is they don’t just keep danger out. They keep everything out.”
“Including love.”
“Especially love.” Lady Merrow squeezed Louise’s arm gently. “Though I suspect someone might have found cracks in those fortifications.”
Louise thought of Aaron in his chambers, vulnerable as he shared his mother’s sketchbook. The way he touched her with such reverence, as if she were precious beyond measure. The way he denied himself pleasure while ensuring hers, maintaining her innocence even as passion consumed them both.
“I don’t … I don’t know if that’s true, my lady,” Louise denied, trying her best to tell that to herself, as well.
“My dear girl, do not fool yourself. You’ve already reached him.
That he struggles with maintaining distance means you’ve gotten closer than anyone else ever has.
” Lady Merrow guided them back toward the park entrance, where their carriage waited.
“The question is whether you have the patience to wait for him to realize he’s allowed to be reached. ”
Louise helped Lady Merrow manage Buttercup’s enthusiastic attempt to greet their driver. As they settled into the carriage, she considered everything she had learned.
“Thank you,” Louise said quietly. “For telling me.”
“I probably shouldn’t have. Aaron values his privacy above all things.
” Lady Merrow reached over to pat Louise’s hand.
“But I see how you look at each other. More importantly, I see how Lady Emily looks at both of you. That child has lost enough. She doesn’t need to lose the chance at a proper family because my nephew is too frightened to accept love. ”
The word hung between them, acknowledged but not examined. Louise turned to watch London pass through the window, her mind spinning through everything she now understood.
Aaron wasn’t cold. He was terrified. Every kindness he showed them came with the fear that he was beginning a pattern that would end in their destruction. Every moment of passion carried the weight of his father’s legacy.
She thought of his hands in her hair, gentle as he restored her appearance after their encounter. The way he held himself apart even as everything in him clearly yearned for closeness. The careful boundaries he maintained to protect her innocence while his own needs went unmet.
He was trying so hard to be good that he couldn’t see he already was.
And she had no idea how to convince him of that.