Page 21 of The Last Chance
“It’s just a watch,” she made the mistake of saying.
“It’s not the watch,” he snapped, retreating into his fortress and slamming the portcullis shut. “It’s what it represents. A selfish blackguard who hurt his own children to line his pockets. You should know better than to make light of something others find painful.”
She climbed into the carriage without his assistance, though she felt the power of his burning gaze on her back.
“How am I to understand if you don’t tell me what you’re thinking?” she said once they had settled into their seats.
“You don’t need to understand. I’m not in the habit of sharing my private thoughts with anyone.” He looked out the window as the carriage lurched forward and picked up speed. Something made him modify his tone and make a concession. “I warned you. I’m not easy company, particularly when it comes to personal matters. Remember that, and we may still be on speaking terms next week.”
That’s when she knew laying siege to his fortress would only force him to increase his defences. She needed to disguise herself as one of his men and sneak past the guardhouse undetected.
She’d need to prove she was his ally, not his enemy.
Chapter Five
As with most Friday afternoons, Pickins coffeehouse was a bustling hive of activity. Aaron ordered coffee for himself and Pekoe tea for Miss Lovelace. Then he lingered at the counter for brief seconds to bolster his defences.
It wasn’t the prospect of locating the mysterious woman who once owned his father’s watch that unsettled him. Nor his body’s fierce reaction upon hearing Miss Lovelace devour acrème pâtissière. Or the sudden spark of attraction the moment she gripped his hand.
It was the thought of her leaving London. Perhaps for good.
No more stolen glances.
No bickering that fed a need he didn’t quite understand.
No wishing he were a different man.
It would be for the best. They were destined to part ways, and he’d rather her visit France than the gallows. Besides, the more time they spent together, the harder he had to fight to keep his fortress walls intact.
He didn’t need a friend. He didn’t want a lover. Life was complicated enough. Soon, he would be an uncle,and the relentless desire to protect the child would consume him night and day.
“I hear the seed cake here is exceptional,” Miss Lovelace said when Aaron returned to his seat in a booth they’d been lucky enough to secure.
“Cake will spoil your dinner.” Aaron withdrew his watch and checked the time. “I’ll not let Baptiste’s hard work go to waste.”
Miss Lovelace didn’t snap at him like he’d hoped. “Don’t you think it strange Lord Howard used an alias but kept the watch in a pouch embellished with the pawnbroker’s name?”
“Mr Simpson might be the name he uses when staying at hotels with his mistress.” Aaron distracted himself by looking for the waiter bringing their refreshments. He did not wish to discuss lovers’ antics with Miss Lovelace. “Howard was a dolt and probably had no idea he was being used as a pawn.”
“A pawn? Then you believe someone targeted Lord Howard to frame you for murder? Why not kill him elsewhere and leave the body in your club’s yard? Why involve me?”
Aaron relaxed a little. Logical questions needed logical answers. They did not chip away at the ice encasing his heart.
“Because they feared I would dispose of the body and their efforts would be in vain. A witness will say they saw me entering your club.” They might suggest Miss Lovelace was Aaron’s mistress and accomplice, but he couldn’t think about that now. “You’d be surprised what men will do to please a woman.”
She tilted her head, little lines appearing between her brows. “You seem calm for a man who may face a murder charge.”
“None of us leave this world alive.” The blasé comment did not reflect the riot of panic inside. Who would protect his family when he was gone? The question kept him awake most nights, staring at the ceiling until dawn. “Anyone who’s fought me in the ring knows I’m a formidable opponent.”
She pulled gently at her lips, which she always did whenworried or nervous. “I have a suggestion, though you will probably raze the roof in protest.”
“I’m not leaving London.”
“Not even for a short time?”
“No. What if the villain comes for Aramis in my absence?” If their estranged uncle, the Earl of Berridge, was involved in this debacle, he wouldn’t rest until all the Chance brothers died. “My uncle has no heir. He’ll see me hanged before I’m named the next Earl of Berridge.”
Miss Lovelace gasped. “You’re the heir to an earldom?”
