Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Joanna couldn't sleep. She lay in Aaron's warm arms, absently stroking his chest and listening to the patter of rain on the windowpane. She had spent the last hour counting her blessings, not sheep. While her life had crumbled around her like a neglected ruin, she had fallen in love.

Deeply in love.

Her heart skipped a beat when she looked at him. A lock of ebony hair hung rakishly over his brow. Long, dark lashes rested against his cheeks. The soft, steady murmur of his breath spoke of a man in peaceful repose, not one plagued by demons.

Love was like medicine. A means to mend a damaged heart.

It was a lot like opium, too.

The need for more, a sweet form of addiction.

She cast her gaze around the room, feeling content.

Everything about Aaron's bedchamber—a masculine space befitting the owner of a notorious gaming hell—reminded her of him. The rich mahogany panels spoke of brooding elegance. Thick velvet curtains hid the world beyond, hinting at the private man no one knew.

You only know one part of me , he had said .

It was a warning. A warning to guard her heart and keep her distance. But it was too late. She wanted him in every way a woman wanted a man—as a friend and lover, her husband and father of her children. A lifelong companion.

The real question was: could she be his lover indefinitely? Could she accept not being his wife and never having a family?

Because one fact remained.

If they married, he would protect her with his life.

No one would be more important.

"A penny for your thoughts," he said, his voice husky from sleep. "I can almost hear the cogs whirring."

She ran her hand over the hard ridges of his abdomen. "It's nothing. I was contemplating the road ahead, though one would think I'd be used to dealing with uncertainties."

He trailed his fingers over her upper arm in featherlike strokes. "Once we've dealt with the threat, I'll hire an investigator to find your father," he said, mistaking the cause of her anxiety. "I'll pay Daventry to help determine what happened to your brother."

Did he think Gabriel had left a stone unturned?

The marquess had spent ten years searching for the truth.

"Justin is dead. His body is interred at St Michael's churchyard."

"Then why the confusion? Rothley is adamant he's alive."

She didn't want to dredge up the ghosts of the past. If Justin was alive, he didn't want to be found. "We were unable to identify his body. The coroner based the decision on his hair and clothes, height and build. There was evidence to suggest he had met someone. He was found at a secret hideout deep in the woods."

Aaron was quiet for a moment. He pressed a tender kiss to her hair and said, "I'm sorry. I can imagine how painful losing a sibling must be."

She tried not to think about it .

She tried not to think about a lot of things.

An unmarried woman could not afford to grieve or dwell on what might have been. Nor could she place her life on hold to focus on suspicions.

"When we're no longer suspects in a murder enquiry, I would like to have a funeral and lay a proper headstone." Perhaps it would bring her closure and help Gabriel to focus on the future, too. "Justin was committed to the ground, but my father couldn't bear to say goodbye."

"I'll make the arrangements." Aaron pulled her closer to his hard body, the heat of his skin chasing the chill of sadness away. "I'll do whatever brings you the peace you deserve."

She rolled on top of him, eager for love in any form. "Perhaps you might bring me peace now, Aaron. I need a distraction from these maudlin thoughts."

With mischief in his eyes, he gave a sinful grin. "Is this distraction enough?" He gripped her buttocks, his fingers sinking into her soft flesh while gliding her back and forth over his growing erection. "Straddle me."

He didn't need to ask twice.

He was inside her in a heartbeat.

Buried so deep, she arched her back and sighed sweetly.

Trust Sigmund to choose that moment to rap lightly on the door.

Aaron stilled. "What the hell is it?"

Sigmund cleared his throat and called from the corridor, "There's a young lady here to see Miss Lovelace. She's waiting in the study, said it's important. Said her name is Miss Stowe."

"Can she not return in the morning?"

"Happen she wouldn't have come if it could wait."

Joanna leant forward and kissed Aaron's lips. "I asked for a distraction, and the Lord answered my prayer."

"We both know you had something else in mind."

"We'll finish this later." She smiled, but a sudden pang in her chest said nothing in her life was guaranteed. Happiness might be stolen from her at a moment's notice. "I'll be right down, Sigmund."

Aaron sat up, wrapping his arms around her waist and flipping her onto her back. He was still inside her, as if sensing another goodbye was imminent.

"Don't go. Don't leave this room. Not tonight."

She cupped his cheek. "Why? What are you afraid of?"

"Nothing," he hissed. "Everything."

The admission was a milestone in their relationship. The fears one buried as a child were never far from the surface. They informed every decision one made.

"We can control some things," she said, stroking his back, "but we cannot control fate." Knowing she could not reason with him, she revealed her own method of coping. "Have you ever wondered why we all walk different paths? Why some people suffer more than others?"

"Every damn day," he growled.

"What if we all chose a lesson to learn? What if everything in our life happens to ensure we receive an education?"

"I must have chosen more than one," he said bitterly.

"Not necessarily. Your whole life has been marred by fear. Fear of being physically hurt. Fear of failure. A fear of being poor and unable to protect your family. You're afraid of what will happen to them if you put your own needs first." She wrapped her legs tightly around him, holding him inside her even though his manhood had grown flaccid. "You will always live with secret fears until you master the emotion."

Aaron wasn't angry with the world.

He was afraid of all the ways it might hurt him.

He stared at her, his annoyance tinged with a glimmer of fascination. "Perhaps fear is a demon, one too strong for a mortal man to slay."

"We might debate the theory later." She released him and urged him to help her up so they might dress quickly. "Miss Stowe has come about Lucia. Either to assist us or accuse us of tormenting her helpless maid. She might have information we need or may have helped Lucia board a ship to Naples."

Aaron stood, his body glorious, his expression grave. "Let's pray it's not the latter. Getting the truth from that woman is our only hope of freedom."

They found Miss Stowe pacing the floor in the candlelit study, wringing her hands and sniffing back tears. When she saw Joanna, she flew across the room.

"Can you ever forgive me?" Miss Stowe gripped Joanna's hands like her life depended on it. "Lucia has fooled us both. Tricked us into believing her sad little tale."

"She told a convincing story," Joanna reassured Miss Stowe.

"It's all a lie. Her mother isn't dead but living in Lambeth. I doubt she's even Italian." Miss Stowe's hands shook as she caught her breath and rummaged in her reticule. She tugged crumpled notes from the velvet bag and thrust them at Joanna. "I found these in her room. After Mr Daventry came to tell me what happened, I ripped the place apart."

Joanna glanced at Aaron, guilt rising in her chest. Initially, he had been suspicious of the maid, but she had convinced him otherwise.

Lucia is not Venus , she had protested.

In truth, no one knew who Lucia was.

Aaron stepped forward and asked to read the letters. He did not say, "You fool, Joanna," or berate her for trusting a maid. He did not use those he loved to prove a point or bolster his self-worth .

"Lucia is perhaps the most convincing liar I have ever met," he said, taking a plaid blanket from the leather chair and draping it around Joanna's shoulders. "I trust you're warm enough, Miss Stowe."

The lady gathered herself. "Yes, thank you, Mr Chance."

"Let's sit and try to understand what we're dealing with." Aaron gestured to the chairs facing his desk. He didn't perch on his throne but pulled up a seat and settled beside them. "Where did you find the notes?"

"Hidden inside her spare boots."

How odd. They had searched Lucia's room the night they found her wandering around Mrs Flavell's garden.

"We scoured the room and found nothing," Aaron said calmly before unravelling one note and reading the missive. He handed it to Joanna. "I need you to think, Miss Stowe. Has Lucia ever had another servant visit her? An older woman? Someone she confessed to knowing from a previous position?"

While Miss Stowe thought, Joanna read the penned words. It was a simple message, an invitation for Lucia to dine with the woman on Sunday. It was signed your loving mother , but that's not what shocked Joanna most.

"The person who wrote this note also wrote to Gabriel." Joanna pointed to the letters' curling tails. "The writing bears the same exaggerated flicks and sweeps that give it a distinctive flare."

Aaron agreed as he read the other notes. "It's a woman's writing, someone educated, not a servant or a mother whose child might work in service."

"Lucia often met a woman at the market," Miss Stowe said. "A servant she worked with at Lord Hutton's house."

Aaron sighed. "I doubt she worked there. I called today. Lord Hutton doesn't remember her, and neither does the housekeeper."

"Oh." Miss Stowe hung her head .

"How convenient of the sender to mention her new address in Lambeth," Aaron mocked, slipping that note into his trouser pocket. "It's a trap to lure me there. Every move I've made has played into this devil's hands."

"Who is she?" Joanna said, her voice breaking because this person had one goal in mind. To destroy the Chance family.

He shrugged. "The wife of a man who lost his fortune at the tables. Someone who blames me for her husband's addiction and is in cahoots with the Earl of Berridge. Someone clever enough to have me chasing my tail."

Fear crept into Joanna's heart, filling every chamber like a frigid morning mist. "We should hire an enquiry agent to check the address. Have a man watch the premises."

"There's no time." Aaron stood abruptly upon hearing the upstairs board creak. He glanced at the ceiling and lowered his voice. "I mean to play the game and visit Lambeth tonight. I don't want my brothers to know I've left the house."

"But it's almost midnight."

"I expect Lucia and this mystery woman will be waiting."

A sudden knock on the door brought Aramis, who cut a commanding figure despite him wearing nothing but trousers and a loose white shirt. "I heard a commotion." He stared at Miss Stowe and frowned. "I trust all is well."

Aaron nodded. "Miss Stowe found a few notes in Lucia's room. The maid corresponded with someone who knew she wasn't an orphan of Italian descent. Daventry will be interested in the handwriting."

"It bears similarities to the other letters sent," Joanna said.

Aaron gave Aramis the note he held. "It's from Lucia's mother, though she told Miss Stowe her parents died on the ship from Naples. It proves she lied and is working with Howard's killer."

Miss Stowe sniffed. "How could I have been so blind? "

Joanna tried to ease her guilt. "Kindness is not a weakness. Lucia is the only one who should be ashamed."

Aramis studied the elegant script. "Yes, I would say it's identical to the other letters in your desk. Though until we find the maid, we can't prove anything."

Aaron stifled a yawn. "It's late. We can discuss it at the family meeting in the morning. We need a plan of action. We need answers before the magistrate loses patience."

"A plan that involves your brothers helping you," Aramis stated.

"We've been over this a hundred times."

"I demand we discuss it again."

"Tomorrow."

"We're men now," Aramis complained, perhaps glad of an audience because it meant Aaron had to control his temper. "How long do you intend to keep treating us like children?"

Aaron jerked like he had been hit with an arrow. Despite everything he had sacrificed for his family, he wore the pain of failure in his strained expression. "I wasn't aware my concern for your safety grieved you."

"You're twisting my words," Aramis said through a strained sigh. "I would like to fight for this family, too, but you rule with an iron fist. Let me help you."

Aaron nodded. "We'll discuss it tomorrow. It's been a long day, and I must ensure Miss Stowe arrives home safely. Send Sigmund in on your way out."

It was Aramis' cue to leave.

He did so, calling his brother a stubborn ass.

Sigmund came to the study, but Aaron ushered him out onto Aldgate Street so they might speak privately. He returned to inform Miss Stowe there was a hackney waiting to take her home.

"If Lucia returns, you must call a constable." Joanna hugged Miss Stowe, offering a warm smile when every cell in her body feared what Aaron planned to do. "I'll visit you tomorrow and inform you of our progress."

Miss Stowe left with Sigmund.

"It's bitterly cold tonight," Aaron said, pulling the blanket tighter across Joanna's chest. "Wait for me in bed until I return."

Joanna ripped the blanket off her shoulders and threw it onto the chair. "I'm coming with you to Lambeth. I'll wake the whole house if you refuse."

He exhaled calmly, which proved more unnerving than his blunt retorts. "I'm walking into a trap and need to go alone." He tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her so deeply it was like he had slipped beneath her skin.

"You can't bribe me with a kiss."

"I can't fight if I'm worried about you. Stay here. Please, Joanna."

She laid her palms on his chest. "I'm in love with you, Aaron. I'll not sit here, mindless with worry. Besides, if it is a trap, they won't be expecting me."

He remained silent.

"Trust all will be well." She alluded to their earlier conversation about being ruled by fear. "Believe we're living the life we're meant to, regardless of what happens tonight."

His smile was tepid at best. "That's easy to say, but nothing scares me more than venturing into unknown territory."

"I can think of something. If I'm left here to worry, I might nibble off my fingers. Then I'll never be able to touch you again."

His broad grin spoke of surrender. "You're right. That would be terrifying."

The address in Lambeth led them to a modest terraced house a stone's throw from Searle's Boat Yard and Astley's Amphitheatre. Light shone from the single downstairs window of 2 Stangate Street while darkness shrouded the row.

The night carried the threat of winter, a biting wind rolling off the Thames, bringing with it the pungent stench of the river. The rank smell of decay was like an omen, a stark reminder that nothing lasted forever.

Seated inside the hired hackney coach, Aaron reached for Joanna's ungloved hands and rubbed them warm. "You should have stayed at home. You'll catch your death tonight. The cold cuts through the air like a sabre."

"We're in this together," she said, letting him feel the flick of her temper. "I'm not leaving you alone to deal with Lucia. Besides, I know you. You're happy to brawl with men but would not hurt a woman."

She was right.

It's why he agreed she could accompany him to Lambeth.

Aaron removed his coat and draped it around Joanna's shoulders. "You'll wear this. I'll not take no for an answer. Keep the blanket for your legs."

She'd spent the journey on his lap, the blanket wrapped around them both. They had not kissed but held each other tightly, keeping the chill at bay.

"I should have fetched your coat and gloves," he complained.

"Had we not crept out of Fortune's Den when we did, we'd be part of an entourage. Every member of your family would have followed us." She thrust her arms into the sleeves of his coat, letting him fasten the buttons. "I'm used to the cold. My father went missing the week before Christmas once and didn't come home until New Year. There wasn't a spare shilling in the house."

Aaron cursed the man to Hades. He prayed Arthur Lovelace never returned, or he would have to teach the wastrel a hard lesson.

"There's a flask of brandy in my coat pocket. A swift nip will warm your bones. It's my emergency supply. I took it from the desk drawer before we left."

Joanna wrinkled her nose. "What sort of emergency would prevent you from walking six feet to the drinks table?"

"You have a habit of gazing out the window while wearing your nightdress." A vision of loveliness flashed through his mind. Her hair a cascade of golden waves around her shoulders. Her skin smooth and pale as fine porcelain. "The sight of you leaves me rigid in my seat. I need a dram to settle my pulse."

She narrowed her gaze like she didn't believe him. "Teasing me won't solve our problems. I get the sense you're stalling." She placed her hand on his leg, stroking his thigh. "I don't want our love affair to end. I don't want to lose you, Aaron, but we need answers before it's too late."

A desire for the truth burned inside him like wildfire.

It was as simple as arresting Lucia and her mother and using them to seal his uncle's fate. But he was avoiding a confrontation.

Everything would change once they'd solved the case. From a front-row seat, Joanna would watch him fight and realise he was a brute, not the man she loved. She would return to her club, unwilling to trade her independence for a dying dream.

The pain would cripple him.

Perhaps even finish him for good.

"Very well," he said, wishing they were both on the boat to Belgium, not lingering in Lambeth on a dreary night. "But keep your blind down. No peering outside. Hired thugs may be watching the vehicle. If I'm forced to alight, I don't want them to know you're here." A chill of foreboding crawled over his shoulders. "I'll not lose you tonight."

"This won't be the end of us," she said with such conviction he almost believed it. "How can it be? I need to learn how to trust a man implicitly. You need to stop expecting the worst."

"How can I when there's so much at stake?"

Aaron called to the jarvey he'd paid to comply, instructing him to rouse the occupants and bring them to the carriage. "Ask for Lucia," he said, lowering the window when the driver climbed down from his box. "Say I'm alone in the vehicle but refuse to enter the house."

"Right you are, sir."

Aaron would not risk walking into a trap.

Nor would he leave Joanna alone in a hired hackney.

The jarvey trudged up to the front door and knocked.

Aaron knew someone would answer. They were expecting him. This was a carefully laid plan which made him question his own stupidity. A woman could fire a pistol. Two could throw a dead man into the Thames. A brick tied to the ankle might keep him submerged for days.

A woman did answer the door, but it wasn't Lucia.

Aaron peered through the darkness, but it was impossible to identify her. Perhaps they had the wrong house. What if the plan was to have him leave Fortune's Den? To ensure he was the last brother standing?

His heart thundered, the rapid beat pounding in his throat. "I warned Sigmund to keep the doors locked and watch the street in my absence." He held his head in his hands. "What if coming here is a mistake?"

Joanna tapped his arm. "It's not a mistake. The women are leaving the house and following the jarvey. I see Lucia. The other person must be her mother."

Aaron looked up as the jarvey opened the door, and the two women climbed into the vehicle. They fell into the seat opposite, looking like terrified victims, not murderous villains.

"Keep your hands on your laps where I can see them." Aaron glared at Mrs Lowry, his uncle's bespectacled housekeeper. "How the hell do I know you? We've met before. Years ago."

"I beg you not to shout, sir," Lucia said in her faint Italian accent. "It is not our fault. We had no choice but to follow orders."

"Stop this charade," Joanna countered. "You're not Italian and didn't come here on a boat from Naples. The earl forced you and your mother to kill a man in cold blood. You could have come to Mr Chance for help instead of plotting his demise."

Lucia started sobbing so hard she couldn't speak.

"She's just a young girl," Mrs Lowry said, reaching for Lucia's hand. "Only recently turned sixteen. She wanted no part in this but had no choice."

Timid Lucia looked sixteen.

Dressed as Venus in a mask, she looked twenty-three.

"A mother is supposed to protect her child," Joanna said.

"I'm not her mother, miss. I only wish I were."

Confusion kept Aaron's temper at bay. "Then how do you know Lucia? How do you know me? What is this about?"

Mrs Lowry removed her misty spectacles and wiped them with a handkerchief. "I was employed at your father's house in Hill Street. Started as a scullery maid and worked my way up to ladies' maid. Sadly, the years abroad have taken their toll."

Abroad?

Aaron stared at her, a bitter taste in his mouth because the past was like poison. "Did you work at Hill Street when my mother was alive?"

A vague memory of his mother slid into his mind, a smiling face, a glimmer of sunlight catching her ebony hair. He had never dared ask his father to describe her in greater detail, partly because Ignatius Chance remarried within months. Aaron remembered Christian and Theo's mother because he was nine when she died just as mysteriously.

"Yes, sir. There was no one kinder. No one more loving. "

Aaron covered his mouth with his hand. He wished he could remember his mother's face. Wished his childhood wasn't tainted by his father's evil misdeeds.

Tears gathered behind his eyes, but he leant on years of honed arrogance to beat them back. "I recall you were dismissed the week before we were thrown out onto the streets." His father's third wife, the witch known as Natasha, had fired most the staff, including her own maid.

"That's what Mrs Chance wanted everyone to think."

Mrs Chance! he grumbled silently. It grated that they would forever bear the same surname, like the woman haunted him from beyond the grave.

"I didn't fill my valise with clothes," Mrs Lowry continued. "It was crammed with jewels, silver, and anything valuable I could carry. I had to do it, or the mistress said she'd see me hanged for stealing."

Plagued by thoughts of Natasha's wickedness, Aaron fell silent.

"What is this all about?" Joanna said. "Why are you working for Lord Berridge? Why risk your lives to assist in his devious scheme?"

Mrs Lowry looked at Aaron and paled. "I'm forced to work for Lord Berridge and play the messenger. It's part of a bigger plan."

"What plan?" Aaron snapped.

Lucia dashed tears from her eyes. "You are the last person I wanted to hurt. I wanted to tell you everything, but she threatened to kill Miss Lovelace."

"We should have run away the moment the ship docked in Southampton," Mrs Lowry said, wrapping her arm around Lucia and hugging her tightly. "I've helped raise Lucia since she was born. We returned to England on a boat from Naples nine months ago."

"I have something for you." With a shaky hand, Lucia retrieved a note from her coat pocket and gave it to Aaron. "It will be a dreadful shock."

Aaron tore open the note and read the missive.

By the time I'm finished, you'll wish you'd

kept your brothers in the rookeries.

I heard you cried like babes that first night.

Aaron shivered as if cold fingers from the past were tracing down his spine. "Who wrote this?"

"The letter is from my mother, N-Natasha Chance." Lucia looked terrified at the mention of her own mother's name. "The person you hate most is not dead."

Natasha was alive?

Time stopped for a heartbeat.

"Is this your idea of a sick joke?" he barked.

"No, it's true, sir. I swear it." Mrs Lowry clasped her hands in prayer. "May God strike me dead."

"But I read the coroner's report and interviewed the constables." Bile stung the back of Aaron's throat. What the hell had he missed? "Witnesses watched her die. I had a man ride to Petersfield to check the parish records."

"Mother paid people to lie. She said she would never be safe if you thought she was alive. We left for Naples with her Italian lover when I was three. Roberto died last year, leaving Mother four hundred pounds in his will."

"Natasha was furious," Mrs Lowry added. "Despite her wicked plot, Roberto's son inherited everything."

"What does she want with me?"

"You swore to seek vengeance." Lucia hung her head before finding the courage to reach for Aaron's hand and plead, "You must stop her. She is possessed by the devil and will not rest until your family is dead. She had documents prepared, naming me heir to your fortune, to your share of the gaming hell and the properties you own. Killing you is just the beginning."

Aaron tried to remain calm, but his thoughts were rioting. "Why, in Lucifer's name, would I leave my fortune to Natasha's daughter? Any court in the land would see it as blatant fraud."

That's when Lucia delivered an unexpected blow, an unforeseen twist in the tale. "Because Ignatius Chance was my father. I am your sister, sir. Lucia Chance."