And over it all was a maddening pall of depression from the way they’d separated. Goodbyes spoken as if he would never see her again. He knew it was for the best. And yet the ache he felt at never laughing with her again, never sharing tales of their day over evening meal, and never kissing her again, made him want to dash his brains against the carriage wall.
That was the most ridiculous thing of all. He was an earl and a respected Member of Parliament. Whatever was he doing feeling like he wanted to dash his brains against anything?
Thankfully, he arrived at his home and was able to bury such concerns under action. Or so he thought. He intended to spend his day working on estate matters received yesterday from his steward, but the moment he entered his home, he realized nothing was as he expected.
Lord Loughton was snoring in his front parlor.
He looked at his butler in confusion, but Binner merely shrugged. “I believe Lady Clara left him there last night.”
The irregularity of that statement momentarily rendered him speechless. Eventually, he recovered enough to look up the stairs. “Where is my sister now?”
“In her bedroom, presumably asleep.”
“And where were you, Binner, that you don’t know these things?” he asked. “You’re the butler of the house. You should know all the comings and goings. When did Lord Loughton arrive? When did Lady Clara go to bed? Why did Lord Loughton choose to sleep in my parlor?”
Binner flushed dark red, and his eyes narrowed in hostility. “I cannot say what your sister chooses to do or with whom. It is not my place.”
“Wrong. A butler knows what happens in the house. Unfortunately, you probably choose to spend your evenings in the pub, returning here barely before morning. I daresay you learned of Lord Loughton’s presence the same way I just did.”
“The devil you say!” the man blustered. “I have toiled for you, my lord. Sweated and worked my fingers to the bone on your behalf, and this is the thanks I get?”
“You get no thanks for a job badly done.”
Aaron was a patient man, one who had promised the management of his servants to his sister. It was a task she took great pride in and so because of his love for her, he would usually stop here. He would discuss Binner’s bad performance with his sister and firmly suggest the man should be turned out. Then he would leave it in her hands because that’s what he’d promised.
But he was done with that. If he was an earl, then by God, he would be served like an earl. If he had to give up the woman he wanted because of his status, then he would be treated as a man with status. Especially in his own home! And if his sister—beloved, scatterbrained, lost Clara—could not perform her duties accordingly, then she would lose those responsibilities until such time as she proved she could do them.
“Binner.”
The man had been walking away in a huff, but he stopped to turn back with an obsequious gesture. One that might have been sarcastic. “My lord?”
“You’re sacked. Pack your things immediately and go.”
Far from being shocked, the man drew himself up to his full height. “I don’t believe that’s wise, my lord.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I know things. I know what your sister does in this house and outside it. It would be unfortunate indeed if such things got out.” He gave an oily smile. “Think how that would affect her marriage prospects. And your political—”
He didn’t get another word out. Aaron punched him hard enough to slam him into the wall. He didn’t check the impulse as usual. Didn’t even bother thinking about it before he chose to act. He simply punched the man straight in the face. And if the bastard stood up, he’d get punched again.
“Is that how you managed to keep your job this long?” Aaron sneered. “By threatening my sister?”
“I’ll tell ’em! I’ll tell everyone!” Binner gibbered as he used the wall to straighten up. “Orgies and knife throwers! Rituals to the devil—”
Another blow straight to the bastard’s face. And while the idiot was down, Aaron stripped him of his keys. Then he tried to yank the man’s livery off his body. He’d be damned if the man wore the Kittrel colors ever again. But in this, the blowhard had too much bulk to effectively strip his clothes. So Aaron satisfied himself with shredding the fabric with his bare hands.
Then he hauled the man up by what was left of his collar. “One word,” he growled. “One word against my sister or myself, and I will have you gutted.”
Far from being cowed, Binner shouted obscenities. He cursed everything and everyone while Aaron shoved him against the wall. And then he drew him close enough to whisper into his ear.
“I’m good friends with Reuben Bates. I will pay him to have you silenced.”
Binner choked on his inhale as he seemingly tried to pull back his curses. Aaron held him one moment longer to show that he was in deadly earnest, and then he used one hand to open the door and the other to toss the man onto the street. Binner tumbled arse over teakettle onto the walk. And Aaron took great pleasure in slamming the door shut.
Then he turned around to confront a handful of people gaping at him from the front hallway. Most of them were staff—two footmen and one maid—and they scrambled away at his dark look. Another was Lord Loughton who leaned negligently on the doorframe to the parlor. He was silently clapping his hands. But Aaron’s attention went to his sister who stood with her mouth hanging open at the top of the stairs.
“Clara!” Aaron cried. “Why didn’t you tell me he was threatening you?”