Chapter 31 #2
This was the man she loved. Dangerous and tender, controlled and passionate, capable of violence but choosing gentleness. He would save her brother not because George deserved it, but because she needed it.
The gratitude that flooded through her felt too large for her chest, tangled with fear for what came next and anger at what had come before. But beneath it all, solid as bedrock, lay the certainty that Aaron would see them through this.
He had given his word, and Aaron’s word was worth more than all her brother’s broken promises combined.
As they emerged onto a slightly wider street where a hackney might be found, Louise caught George’s arm.
“No more running,” she said quietly. “Whatever comes next, we face it together.”
George nodded, his throat working as he swallowed whatever words wanted to emerge. Behind them, the fog thinned, revealing the first pale hints of dawn on the horizon.
A new day. A found brother. And ahead, the monumental task of rebuilding what George’s choices had shattered.
The servants’ entrance to Calborough House stood blessedly unguarded at four in the morning.
Aaron produced a key, and they slipped inside like thieves, their mud-caked boots silent on the kitchen flagstones.
The familiar warmth of the house felt surreal after the nightmare of the East End, as if they had crossed between worlds.
George stood awkwardly in the kitchen, taking in the copper pots gleaming on their hooks, the scrubbed wooden table where Cook prepared meals, the everyday domesticity that seemed to pain him.
His clothes hung torn and filthy, making him look exactly what he was.
A man who had been living rough and on the run for weeks.
“The blue guest chamber is prepared.” Aaron kept his voice low to avoid waking the household. “You’ll find fresh clothes in the wardrobe. They should fit well enough.”
George nodded, his gaze sliding away from Aaron’s with visible shame. “Your Grace, I cannot adequately express—”
“Then don’t.” Aaron turned toward the back stairs. “We’ll discuss everything tomorrow. Tonight, you need rest.”
Louise watched her brother climb the stairs like a man ascending to his execution.
When his footsteps faded, she was alone with Aaron in the dim kitchen.
Mud streaked his face, and his coat bore tears from the fight, but he had never looked more magnificent to her.
This man, who had risked everything to find her worthless brother.
“You should rest as well.” Aaron moved toward the door that led to the main house, then paused. “I’ll hire guards tomorrow. Men, I trust to watch the house until Wigram is dealt with and your brother’s debts are cleared.”
Something cold settled in Louise’s chest. “Guards?”
“For your protection when you return to Sulton House.” He still wouldn’t look at her directly. “You should be able to go home tomorrow. Today, rather. George will need to prepare the house for your return.”
The words hit her like physical blows. Home. As if Calborough House had never been that. As if these weeks of family dinners and shared laughter and stolen kisses meant nothing.
Louise forced her voice to remain steady. “Of course. This was always temporary.”
She waited, her heart pounding so hard she was certain he would hear it. This was his moment to protest, to say something, anything, that would show he wanted her to stay. That which existed between them was worth fighting for.
Aaron nodded once, sharp and final. “Yes. Temporary.”
The word fell between them like a blade.
Louise pressed her fingernails into her palms, using the pain to keep her expression neutral. “Then I should pack. Thank you, Your Grace, for everything you’ve done for my family.”
She dropped a curtsy, proper and distant, as if they were strangers at a ball rather than two people who had shared intimacies that still burned in her dreams.
“Louise—”
But she was already fleeing up the servants’ stairs, her vision blurring with tears she refused to let fall until she reached the safety of her chamber. The door clicked shut behind her, and she turned the key with trembling fingers.
Only then did she let herself collapse.
She pressed her face into the pillow to muffle the sobs that tore from her chest. Tomorrow she would leave this house, where she had found such unexpected happiness.
Tomorrow, she would return to Sulton House with its cold rooms and mounting bills and memories of desperation.
Tomorrow, she would begin forgetting what it felt like to be cherished by Aaron Morrison.
But tonight, she allowed herself to mourn the future that had never truly been possible.
The tears soaked through the pillowcase as she grieved for Emily’s laughter in these halls, for Lady Merrow’s warm conspiracies, for Buttercup’s chaos, for Aaron’s rare smiles that transformed his austere beauty into something breathtaking.
Most of all, she wept for the words he hadn’t said. The fight he hadn’t fought. The love he wouldn’t allow himself to claim.
Through the wall, she heard footsteps in the corridor. They paused outside her door, and for one heart-stopping moment, she thought he might knock. Might say the words that would change everything.
The footsteps moved on.
Louise buried her face deeper in the pillow and let herself break apart in the darkness, knowing that come morning, she would have to piece herself back together and pretend her heart wasn’t shattered beyond repair.
The candle on her bedside table guttered and died, leaving her in darkness as complete as the emptiness that had opened in her chest where hope used to live.