Page 81 of The Last Chance
He would never get answers.
There would never be a truce.
One of them would die soon.
“Your son was selling forged bank plates and was killed byhis accomplice. The culprit confessed to the murder and their criminal misdeeds. I had no part to play.” Aaron stepped closer, gripping the arms of the chair and looming over the fool. “But I will bury you. The time for reckoning is nigh.”
Aaron left before he did something stupid. But the visit had not been a waste of time. He knew Berridge must be using his servants to deliver messages. That the housekeeper slotted into the puzzle—a missing piece from the past. That if he wanted to save Joanna and his family, he had to kill the Earl of Berridge.
Chapter Sixteen
Southend-on-Sea
Essex
Joanna stood, a lonely figure on the sandy beach, hugging herself against the biting November chill. The cold wind rolled off the sea like whispers of forgotten ghosts, whipping her hair and wrapping around her like a shroud of sorrow.
She looked at the expanse of blue sky, at the sun as low as her spirits, but nothing brought the same glow of contentment as being held in Aaron’s arms. She missed him.
Had he arrived safely in London or fallen foul of the villain’s trap and was dead on the roadside somewhere?
She hated not knowing.
Endless wondering was the bane of her existence.
Was her brother Justin dead? She had to believe he had perished, or she would not sleep at night. Was her father missing or merely hiding from his creditors? She was past caring.
One thought surpassed them all.
Would she ever see Aaron again?
She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the deep timbre ofhis voice, the warmth of his touch, the arousing scent of his skin. Yet the memories faded by the hour.
“McMillan wants us ready to sail at seven o’clock tonight,” Sigmund said, coming to stand beside her on the sand. “Best eat early. It will be a rough crossing. I pray you’ve got sea legs. Mr Chance will murder me if you fall overboard.”
She looked at Sigmund and forced a smile. He didn’t want to visit Ostend any more than she did. “Mr Chance is lucky to have someone he trusts so implicitly. Have you known each other long?”
Sigmund stared at the sea. “Eleven years or thereabouts.”
“So, just before he bought Fortune’s Den.”
“Aye, we beat each other black and blue the first night we met.”
“You fought with him in the pits?” she said, eager to learn everything about the man who owned her heart. “Rumour is the men there are ruthless.”
“Not the pits. It was an important fight at a fancy estate south of Bromley.” Perhaps sensing she enjoyed talking about Aaron, Sigmund elaborated. “There were ten bouts. We were the last in the ring. Aaron was my opponent, but he was quicker than me and desperate to win the purse.”
“Desperation and anger make a lethal combination.”
Sigmund snorted. “He was angry, all right, snapped like a rabid terrier. He’d bite off your finger if you came too close.”
Sadness filled Joanna’s heart. She wished she had been there to comfort Aaron then, to tend to his bruises and bathe his wounds. To love him.
“Did he win?” She couldn’t bear to think of him lying bruised and bloodied, feeling like he had failed his family.
“Aye, with a punch I didn’t see coming.”
She smiled. “He is rather skilled in the art of surprise.” He had stolen into her heart and set up camp, making it his home now.
