A Woman Made for Sin (13 page)

October 18, 1816

“Aye, my lord. That’s the way of it. I followed him meself, but he musta known ’cause
he disappeared like he ne’er was there. Mighty strange that.”

Chase eyed the odd-looking man in front of him. He was of average height, muscular
from years of hard labor, with thin brown hair that was turning gray around his temples.
Chase had used the Bow Street runner before because he was discreet, smart, and capable
for someone who had learned everything from the streets. With training, he could have
made an excellent spy except for one thing—the man had a memorable face.

His mouth was small, which was made to look even more so with wide cheeks and bushy
dark brown eyebrows. A somewhat bulbous nose conflicted with close-set eyes, making
them look smaller than they were. Not any one feature was in itself remarkable, but
put together, it made Randall Greery quite unforgettable. “Where did you lose him,
Mr. Greery?”

“Out on the docks. He was moving along the Thames, leaving Blackwall and heading toward
Bugsby’s Reach when I lost him. I didn’t believe anyone knew the East India Docks
better than me, but he moved like a native to the waterfront,” Greery said, still
puzzled how the man had simply vanished rounding a small crate of tinned meat.

Unfortunately, that told Chase very little. “Were you able to at least verify that
the thief got what he was after?” Chase asked, half expecting another negative answer.

“Yes, my lord.” Greery coughed and frowned. Depending on the job—and the pay—he would
often employ one or two others he trusted to assist with a case. Tonight had been
one of those times. “One of me men, Roberts, put the map you gave us in with the others,
like you asked. It’s gone, along with the case to your telescope, my lord.”

“Just the case?”

Greery bobbed his head. “Yes, my lord. Roberts found the telescope lying under the
table as if it were thrown aside.”

Chase leaned back in his chair and thought for a second. “And have you been able to
determine if any other ships are missing charts, maps, or drawings of some sort?”

This time Greery grimaced. “None, my lord. There’ve been the normal robberies and
skirmishes around the docks—food, money, and the like—but nothing on any of the ships.
With the exception of W & H Shipping, the rest have been left alone.”

Chase drummed his fingers noiselessly on the map in front of him. On the surface,
he was dealing with a simple burglar who was doing nothing more nefarious than taking
some worthless pieces of paper. But the moment Millie told him about her encounter,
his gut had twisted. His every instinct said this thief was far from harmless. The
man had been too good slipping in and out of guarded places. And based on Greery’s
feedback, he was also skilled at evading being seen and disappearing when being tailed.
That level of skill required practice. This thief was not going to be found unless
he was lured into a trap.

So when the
Tempest
came into port, Chase had moved quickly. The forgery had been decent—good enough
to fool someone as they quickly located and absconded with it, but its primary purpose
was to goad the man into making another move sooner versus later.

“Mr. Greery,” Chase began in a tone that indicated a change in topic. “Were you able
to discover anything on the pinnace?”

“Aye, my lord, good news. I was able to track down the models of all five ships that
left port that night. Three of them definitely did not have pinnaces at all. One may
have had them, but crewmen that had worked aboard her several times said they only
used the jolly boats, and they were painted blue. That leaves only the
Sea Emerald,
whose pinnaces we know for certain are painted green and white. I got some of my
less reputable men to talk to a few laborers on the docks that night, and they confirmed
what the workers already told you. They thought the boy being grabbed was a drunken
shipmate, for he did not fight or cry out for help.”

Chase nodded, relieved to learn that his original conclusions were most likely correct
despite the fact that the
Sea Emerald
had yet to return to London. Aimee was most likely with Reece, which meant the most
likely reason his friend had not yet turned around was that his sister was intentionally
keeping her presence on board quiet.

Aimee was a master at swaying people to her point of view. Even better than Millie
when so inclined—and when it came to Reece, she would be highly motivated to extend
her time on the
Sea Emerald
by any means possible. Chase hoped she was miserable and learning her lesson, but
knowing his sister, she probably was in control of most of the crew, using her innocent
looks and seemingly sweet nature to finagle a room, food, and as comfortable a life
as one could get on a ship.

“Are you
very
certain, Mr. Greery?” Chase asked, his gold eyes boring into the older man’s dark
ones.

The Bow Street runner blinked. The task of finding out about the small rowing boat
had been an odd request, and not until now did he realize how serious the lord felt
about it. Fortunately, Greery did his job thoroughly and quickly, regardless of the
task. “Aye, my lord. Most certain, if the description you gave me was accurate.”

“Five quid is what we agreed, I believe,” Chase said, and opened a drawer to pull
out a small stack of paper. He thumbed out ten bills and placed them down on the desk,
then pointed to it. “That’s the five we agreed to, and another five for you to ensure
your men remain quiet about all they asked and saw.”

Greery eyed the money as it slid toward him on the desk, shocked that the marquess
had just given him ten pounds. “Thank you, your lordship. They’ll be quiet and I’ll
be keeping my ears open for news of your thief. If you ever be needing help again,
you just find me.”

Chase watched as the bulky man strode out of his study. He had an uneasy feeling that
he would be calling again for Mr. Greery, and disturbingly soon.

Chase sat back in his coach as the driver departed for home.
Home
, he thought with bitterness. These days it felt more like an elaborate dwelling.

Until Millie left, he had thought it was his mother who had made Hembree Grove feel
warm and welcoming. But she had left for Scotland nearly five weeks ago, and not until
Millie’s absence had he actually felt lonely. Even being among a crowd of people this
evening had done nothing to relieve that feeling.

He had stayed at White’s club for too long. Soon after Greery had left Hembree Grove,
Chase immediately assigned guards inside every entrance, with instructions to capture
and hold anyone who tried to go in, then send word to him at White’s. He had also
decided to retrieve the map that Reece kept at his townhome to study, and keep it
with the three he had safely hidden away. Unfortunately, he was too late. The place
had already been raided, most likely that morning. Which meant Hembree Grove was likely
the next target.

Chase considered going back home, but the thief was most likely watching and waiting
for him to leave. Chase wanted no more delays. More than anything, he wanted this
mystery solved. He needed his life to return to normal. Chase wanted his wife back
where she belonged—in his arms, his bed, and his everyday life. So he had headed to
White’s.

He had actually looked forward to the noise and people, which was unusual for a man
who coveted his solitude. Upon his marriage to Millie, he had feared his home would
become boisterous, filled with chaos. But he quickly discovered that he could enjoy
the peace he so desired and her company at the same time. He had been quite surprised
to learn how easily his wife became engrossed in a book, or writing letters, and a
myriad of things.

Millie seemed to know when he needed companionship and silence, and helped steer his
sister to other parts of the house when he needed to be alone. Likewise, he had learned
to discern when to offer companionship when she needed it. After the way he had ordered
her departure, Chase wondered if she missed his company as much as he missed hers.

Each day he half hoped, half expected her to defy his command to stay away, and return
to Hembree Grove, ready to argue with him until he relented. If Reece’s town house
had not been vandalized so soon after the forgery had been stolen, he might have given
in to his own desires and asked for her to return. But no longer did he intend to
maintain the silence between them.

He had not meant to cause such a rift. By now, Reece was to have returned Aimee, and
Chase had expected to have resolved the issue with the maps. Never was his separation
from Millie to last this long. It was nearing two weeks and could possibly continue
for two more. And he had yet to send her a letter.

At first, he had not done so because he knew Millie would want to know about Aimee,
and he refused to lie and say that she was fine when he was not absolutely positive.
He also did not want to say Aimee’s whereabouts were unknown, when he was fairly certain
she was with Reece. But just because he had not been sending her letters did not mean
he had not been writing her. He had written every day. And in every letter he wrote
the one thing that prevented it from going to the post.
Come home.

Tonight, sitting alone, listening to all the random, inconsequential conversations
around him, Chase realized she was just returning his silence. He had been a fool.
By not sending Millie his thoughts and feelings about her, she had in return refused
to send him anything regarding hers. He left White’s immediately, having deciding
the damn thief could wait another night to raid his home. He needed to write a letter
to his wife and then
send it
.

He mentally urged the driver to go faster, eager to begin. He would tell her what
he knew of Aimee. She deserved to know. He would convey just how much he missed her
and that he would be joining her as soon as he could. Until then, there would no longer
be this wall of silence between them. They would write with the understanding that
soon she would be in his arms, where she belonged.

Chase closed his eyes and imagined Millie’s expression upon getting his letter, delighted
that he had been the first to give in. She would be relieved about Aimee and perhaps
even decide to pack and return to London. He would send another letter to her father,
stressing there was the possibility of danger and to do what he could to keep his
daughter with him at Abileen Rose.

Reassured now that he had a plan to at least mend things between him and his wife,
Chase smiled as the coach came to a halt. He hopped out, waved the driver to take
care of the horses and retire, and then headed up to the front door. Instead of opening
as customary upon his arrival, it remained shut. All the windows were dark.

Pushing open the door, Chase looked for the two guards he had assigned there, but
found none. Neither could he see any evidence of a disturbance. He took another step
inside and heard a scuffling coming from down the hall, near the kitchens. He paused,
waiting to see if it was one or both of the guards returning to their post, but the
soft noise stopped.

Frowning, Chase loosened his cravat. He rubbed his face, debating how to handle the
guards when they returned from their midnight break, when he heard the scuffling noise
again. This time it did not sound like it came from the back rooms, but his study.
Immediately, years of trained instincts went on alert.

Moving quietly, he headed toward the study and nudged open the door. Reaching along
the wall, his fingertips came into contact with the hilt of a sword. It looked decorative,
but it was also deadly, for he had made sure it was regularly polished and honed.
Once the long blade was in his grasp, he whirled his body inside, ready to attack
whoever was there, but the room was empty. The thief had used the connecting door
to the drawing room, near the front entrance.

Chase heard the soft click of a door opening and immediately pivoted to give chase.
He made it outside just in time to see a hack, which must have been waiting, vanish
down North Audley Street. Going back inside, the open door to the drawing room caught
his attention, for just inside were the bodies of the two night guards. Blood from
their head wounds was pooling on the floor, but thankfully both were still breathing,
if only just barely.

Servants appeared, most of them still dressed in their sleep attire. Chase quickly
gave orders to go for the doctor and to send word that he wanted to see Bow Street
runner Randall Greery as soon as possible. Then he went into his study and shut the
door. The room looked untouched but not his desk. Chase went over and simultaneously
pushed down on the desk’s inlay and the Chaselton crest, freeing a secret drawer.
Inside, he had left several unimportant papers. They were still there, but not as
he had left them.

Chase grimaced. Closing the drawer, he pulled a pedestal up close to the wall. Standing
upon it, he reached up to unscrew the end of the rod from which hung a large, heavy
portrait of his grandfather. It was the one place Chase thought might remain hidden,
even if the thief had ravaged his study. From the rod he pulled out and unrolled three
old vellum maps: the one he had kept to study, the one dropped when the thief had
left the
Zephyr
, and the one he had switched out on the
Tempest
.

He glanced at them once again but still saw nothing that would tell him just why they
might be so valuable to someone. They had nothing in common beyond their overall appearance
and origination. Only someone who knew and studied maps might be able to discern just
what it was that made these particular ones so unique.

Chase rolled them back up and slid them back into the rod. He then returned the pedestal
and went over to collapse on the settee to think.