Chapter 31
“Aaron?”
Louise barely breathed his name, but Aaron nodded immediately. The courtyard remained empty, silent except for the distant drip of water on stone, yet every shadow seemed to pulse with hidden threat. The fog pressed closer, thick enough to hide an army.
They turned back toward the alley entrance together, Aaron’s hand finding hers in the darkness. His fingers wrapped around hers with reassuring strength, though she felt the tension thrumming through him like a plucked wire.
Three steps. That was all they managed.
“George Burrows!”
The voice boomed from everywhere and nowhere, echoing off wet brick. Figures materialized from the fog like demons called from hell itself. Four men, maybe five, surrounded them with the practiced ease of wolves circling sheep.
Louise’s heart slammed against her ribs. The largest man stepped forward, his scarred face visible even in the murk. A knife glinted in his hand, as casual as a gentleman might hold a walking stick.
“You’re late with Wigram’s money, my lord.” The man’s gaze fixed on Aaron, taking in his height, his dark hair just visible beneath his cap. “He warned you what would happen if you tried to run.”
“I’m not—” Aaron began.
“Save your lies.” The scarred man spat on the ground. “Wigram said you might try to talk your way out. Said you were clever with words. But cleverness won’t help you now.”
They attacked without further warning.
Louise expected Aaron to draw his pistol, to threaten or negotiate. Instead, he moved like lightning, given form. His elbow connected with the nearest attacker’s throat before the man could complete his lunge. The thug dropped, clutched his neck, and gasped.
The scarred leader swung his knife in a vicious arc.
Aaron caught the man’s wrist, twisted it sharply, and the blade clattered across cobblestones.
In the same fluid motion, he drove his knee into the attacker’s stomach, then brought his elbow down on the back of the man’s neck. The leader crumpled without a sound.
A third man charged from Louise’s left. She opened her mouth to warn Aaron, but he was already turning, using the attacker’s momentum against him. One moment, the man was running full tilt, and the next moment, he was airborne, slamming into the alley wall with a crack that made Louise wince.
The fourth thug had drawn a cudgel, swinging it toward Aaron’s head. Aaron ducked, and the weapon whistled through empty air. Aaron’s fist connected with the attacker’s jaw with surgical precision. The man’s eyes rolled back, and he toppled backward into a pile of crates.
The fifth man took one look at his unconscious companions and fled into the fog.
The entire fight had lasted perhaps thirty seconds.
Aaron stood in the center of the carnage, his breathing barely elevated, checking each fallen man with clinical efficiency.
Louise remained frozen against the wall, her mind struggling to reconcile the elegant duke who took tea with his aunt with this warrior who moved through violence like a dancer through a waltz.
“Are you hurt?” He crossed to her in two strides, his hands running over her arms, checking for injury.
“No, I … Aaron, that was …” Words failed her entirely.
Movement caught her eye over his shoulder. A figure at the far edge of the courtyard, half hidden by fog and shadow. But she knew that shape, that way of standing with weight shifted to one foot.
“George!”
The figure jerked, then bolted.
Louise ran without a thought, tearing free from Aaron’s protective grip. Her brother’s name ripped from her throat as she plunged into the fog after the fleeing form. Behind her, Aaron cursed violently before his footsteps pounded after her.
The alley twisted left, then right, then opened into another narrow passage. George’s silhouette flickered ahead like a ghost, always just out of reach. Louise’s lungs burned with effort and the toxic fog, but she pushed harder, desperation lending her speed.
“George, stop! It’s Louise!”
He glanced back, and in that moment of recognition, he stumbled. Aaron surged past Louise like an avenging angel, launching himself at George’s legs. They went down hard, rolling across the filthy cobblestones in a tangle of limbs.
George fought with the desperation of a cornered animal, throwing wild punches that Aaron deflected easily. They grappled in the mud and garbage, with George trying to break free while Aaron worked to pin him.
“Stop!” Louise dropped to her knees beside them, grabbing George’s flailing arm. “George, stop fighting! It’s me!”
Her brother went rigid at the sound of her voice. His head turned slowly, his eyes wide with disbelief in the dim light.
“Louise?” The word emerged cracked, uncertain. “What are you … how are you …?”
Aaron released him but remained ready to move if George tried to run again. They climbed to their feet slowly, all three of them filthy and breathing hard. George stared at his sister as if she might evaporate, then his gaze shifted to Aaron, and his confusion deepened.
“Your Grace?” Recognition dawned with visible horror. “Christ, what are you both doing here?”
“Looking for you!” The words exploded from Louise with all the fury of weeks of worry. “Where have you been, George? Do you have any idea what we’ve been through?”
George’s jaw clenched, his shoulders squaring defensively. “I was protecting you. Bragg was getting violent and making threats. I thought if I disappeared, he’d leave you alone.”
“So, you ran?” Louise’s voice rose, thin and sharp. “You left us to face him alone?”
“I didn’t know he’d come after you!” George raked muddy fingers through his hair, leaving it standing in wild peaks. “I thought he’d search for me. Maybe waste his resources hunting me far from home.”
“And Emily? Did you think about what would happen to her?”
George’s expression crumbled. “Every day. But when I heard the duke had taken you in …” He gestured helplessly at Aaron. “You were safe. Protected. And much better off without me dragging you down.”
“So, you stayed away to what, to spare us?” Louise stepped closer, her hands clenching into fists. “Or to avoid facing what you’d done?”
“I was trying to fix things!” George’s voice cracked like a boy’s. “I thought if I could earn enough money through … through certain ventures … I could pay off Bragg and come home with solutions instead of more problems.”
“Through criminal ventures.” Aaron’s voice cut through their argument like a blade through silk. “Through smuggling. Through associations that could see you serving a lengthy sentence in prison.”
George’s face drained of color. “How did you—”
“I’ve had investigators searching for you for weeks.” Aaron moved closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the narrow alley. “Do you understand what you’ve done? The danger you’ve put your sisters in?”
“I never meant—”
“Your intentions are irrelevant.” Aaron’s tone could have frozen the Thames. “Your actions endangered your family, destroyed their security, and forced them to rely on the charity of strangers.”
George’s mouth opened, then closed. He looked at Louise, then looked away and bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I thought I was being clever, staying ahead of them all.”
“You were being a coward.” Aaron stepped between the siblings, forcing George to meet his gaze. “But that ends now. You’ll come with us. We’ll settle your debts legally. You’ll face what you’ve done like a man instead of a boy playing at schemes.”
“I can’t ask you to—”
“You’re not asking. I’m telling you how this goes from here.” Aaron’s voice brooked no argument. “Your pride doesn’t get to dictate terms anymore, Sulton. Not when your sisters’ futures hang in the balance.”
George’s shoulders sagged. He looked younger suddenly, like the boy Louise remembered from years ago, before their father’s death, before the responsibilities that had crushed him.
“You’re right.” The admission seemed to physically pain him. “I’ve made a mess of everything.”
“Yes,” Aaron agreed with no softening. “But messes can be cleaned. Wigram can be dealt with. Your debt can be paid. But only if you stop running and face reality.”
Louise watched her brother’s face cycle through shame, relief, and fear in rapid succession.
Part of her wanted to embrace him, to tell him everything would be well.
But another part, the part that had spent weeks terrified for Emily’s future, wanted to shake him until he truly understood what his absence had cost them.
“Louise.” George reached toward her tentatively. “Can you forgive me?”
She stared at his outstretched hand, mud-stained and trembling. This was her brother, who had taught her to ride, who had snuck her extra desserts when their governess wasn’t looking, who had held her when their parents died.
Who had abandoned them when they needed him most.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But I’m glad you’re alive.”
It wasn’t forgiveness, but it was enough for now. George’s hand dropped, but he nodded, understanding more than she’d said.
“We need to leave,” Aaron said, scanning the alley for signs of pursuit. “Those men won’t stay unconscious forever, and Wigram will send more when they don’t report back.”
They made their way through the twisting alleys with Aaron leading, George in the middle, and Louise next to him. He tried to match her stride, but his steps faltered. Once he stumbled, recovered, then fell back again, his boots scraping softly against the stones.
Louise glanced over her shoulder. Her brother walked like a man heading to the gallows, shoulders bent with the weight of his failures.
She turned forward and fixed her gaze on Aaron’s back as they moved through the darkness.
He had fought five men without hesitation, without fear, protecting her with a violence she hadn’t known he possessed.
Yet his hand, when it reached back to help her over a pile of refuse, remained gentle as ever.