A Woman Made for Sin (36 page)

“How so?” Evette probed softly.

“One night I was comin’ back from a market near Dawsons Gardens and I looked up and
I saw two people on a balcony eatin’. And I thought just once I’d like that to be
me. Eatin’ a fine meal made by someone else under the moonlight.”

Evette sighed in agreement. “Mine is similar except that it is daytime and I am in
the gardens.”

Millie listened as Evette described her secret wish to Bessie, who was nodding beside
her in agreement. The two were already on their way to becoming good friends. Millie
was glad. For while she had come to know both women and enjoyed their company, they
would not understand who she really was.

Evette looked at Millie and then Bessie. “Maybe we should eat.”

Nodding, Bessie got up and headed into the kitchen area to see if the meat was ready
to eat. When she was out of sight, Evette asked softly, “Are you feeling ill, Millie?”

Millie shook her head. “No, just a little discouraged. I miss my friends.”

“You have made others. I know the people at Madame Sasha’s can be distant, but they
have grown to like you. Even Stuart grumbles less, and Bernard actually convinced
Madame Sasha to go on a drive with him. Everyone knows he would never have done so
without your influence. In their own way, they have missed you these past few days.”

Millie sighed. “I’ve grown to like them as well and it makes being around them much
harder because I am forced to deceive them. They deserve better, just as Clive and
Bessie do. But if I told them the truth, I would be imposing my burden on them. It
is hard enough that you know the truth. I will not ask anyone else to lie for me.”

“My lady, it has been no hardship, and the reason behind your current pretense is
of great importance.”

“I never believed it would take so long to learn the answer to such simple questions,
but until I am sure Aimee is not in danger, I have little choice.”

Bessie hovered just out of sight, listening to all that was said. She had always known
Ellie was not who she claimed to be, but Evette had called her
my lady.
Just who was Ellie?

Old questions resurfaced along with several new ones. Were her lies really in an effort
to protect them? If so, from what? And what had really driven her down to the docks—a
man? Or some friend named Aimee?

November 8, 1816

“Did you get his name?”

The question was direct, but Randall Greery could hear the faint sound of hope within
it.

“Devlin MacLeery,” the runner answered, glad he could finally relay some good news
to the powerful marquess in front of him. Randall knew he was a good investigator,
and when in the vicinity of the Cit or the docks, he was darn near exceptional. And
yet it had taken him nearly a week and a half to find out even a sliver of information
about the lady the marquess had hired him to find. He was almost beginning to think
his lordship had been wrong to believe she was in that area until he had by chance
asked Devlin MacLeery if he had ever seen the woman. Randall knew immediately that
he had finally gotten a break in the case.

“His name’s MacLeery. He owns one of the more successful gambling joints just north
of the docks. Caters to a wide variety of clientele, from the poor to the rich. He
doesn’t seem to care how a man gets his blunt as long as he has it.”

“And you say that he recognized the portrait.”

Greery nodded without hesitation. “Absolutely. He denied it, but I am certain he knows
who she is. The man’s adept at hiding his thoughts, but I surprised him that day.
During those first few seconds of looking at the portrait, he not only recognized
the face, but he was surprised at what he was seeing. As if she looked different somehow.”

The marquess tapped his fingers on his desk. “Did you follow him?”

Greery inhaled. “Aye, but he knew I was doing so and he returned to his place. I’ve
hired men to follow him. We’ll learn where he goes. If he knows the woman, we’ll find
out how and where.”

“As soon as you know anything, Greery,” the marquess said in a low tone, “come and
find me.”

November 10, 1816

“Here you go, sweetness,” Burt said, catching Bessie before he made his way out the
door. “And here’s a little something more for yer lookin’ so pretty tonight.”

Clive’s blue eyes darkened like storm clouds before a heavy rainfall. Of medium height
and brawny with muscle, Burt was built very similar to himself. But he was also five,
maybe even ten years younger and still had his hair. Clive was not a man who normally
heeded how another man looked, but he suspected that, to a woman, Burt was more than
just a little good-looking. And for the past few nights, he, along with several others,
had had become regular patrons. None of them had hidden their appreciation of the
changes in Bessie.

The first night, Clive had wondered why they were not eyeing Ellie. Oh, they glanced
her way and enjoyed the vision, for the lass was in many ways the prettiest woman
they had ever seen, but for most of the night, it was Bessie who had had their attention.
She was one of them. She was from this part of town and understood how it worked and
its people. Ellie, no matter how much she tried, was not of the docks and never would
be.

“So first a new hairdo and now a new frock? What’s gotten into you, Bessie?” Clive
finally asked as Bessie stopped to hand him some empty mugs.

Bessie raised a single eyebrow. “I didn’t even think you noticed.”

Clive gave her a smirk. “Aye, I noticed. Just as every man who has ever been here
has noticed. So what makes ye think ye need tae look pretty tae work here? I already
got one lass doing that and causing me problems. I don’t need two.”

Bessie looked at Clive, trying to decide how to interpret what he just said. “Ellie
is not causin’ you any problems, so don’t be blamin’ her for stuff that’s got nothin’
to do with her. And as for my new dress, well, I think a woman deserves a new garment
every once in a while. And I was certainly due for one.”

“Ellie shouldn’t be making ye things like that. Gives men ideas. And not good ones.”

Bessie suppressed the huge grin she was feeling inside. “You can blame Ellie, but
you’d be wrong. The little missy can barely thread a needle. It was someone else entirely
who reminded me that at one time I was rather nice lookin’ and could be again.”

Clive watched Bessie turn and sashay back to a group of eager men. “Women,” he muttered
underneath his breath. “I’d be better off running this place alone,” he added, knowing
even as he thought it, it was a lie.

“I think it’s working,” Bessie whispered over her shoulder to Millie.

Millie waved her hand at the two men who had just entered and were sliding into chairs
at the table nearest the front window. Then she glanced at Clive and then back at
Bessie, nodding. “Oh, it most definitely is. When old Burt stopped you, I thought
Clive was going to order him out of Six Belles and tell him never to come back again.”

Bessie sighed. It had been so long since she’d had any hope for the future, she had
forgotten how wonderful it felt. So much had changed in a week. She and Ellie had
put aside their animosity, and while Bessie could never see them ever becoming close
friends, a mutual respect had grown between them.

The afternoons had gone from laborious and lonely times to the part of the day she
looked forward to the most. Ellie always brought Evette, who was someone Bessie found
herself growing to like more and more each day. They had much in common and similar
personalities. Their growing friendship, in addition to the new dresses, made Bessie
once again feel indebted to Ellie. Owing the little missy was just something she refused
to do, and it occurred to her just how she could settle things between them. The one
thing Ellie wanted most was the one thing she could not do for herself.

Bessie hustled over to Millie to stop her before she was able to reach the two men
and take their orders. “I don’t know what’s so important about some green and white
pinnace, but those two men . . . well, they know somethin’. They knew it the last
time you asked them. I heard ’em say so when they didn’t know I was right behind ’em.”

Millie stood transfixed, feeling both naïve and surprised that someone would lie about
such a simple question. “But why did they say they knew nothing? What could it cost
them to tell me who the pinnace belongs to?”

Bessie sighed and answered her honestly. “No matter how much you try to fit in here,
little missy, you never will. Otherwise you would know people in these parts don’t
like questions, aren’t ever goin’ to ask them, and they certainly won’t answer any.
Goes against our nature.”

Millie looked deflated. Bessie was right. Her speech, her walk, even how she moved
her hands, all set her apart; something Evette and Bessie had taken turns pointing
out to her the past few days. It was done in good humor, but it was clear that she
could be there a year . . . maybe even longer, and it would still be obvious to all
that Millie had not experienced the same difficult upbringing as those who lived and
worked along the docks. “Then it’s hopeless.”

Bessie shrugged. “Doesn’t have to be. Ask those two about the pinnace again and this
time tell ’em that if they tell you, it’ll be as a favor to me.”

Millie stared at Bessie. “A favor?” she asked, hinting at Bessie’s dislike of being
indebted to someone. This time she was volunteering.

Bessie refused to look at Millie. She gathered the empty mugs from a deserted table
and said over her shoulder, “Consider it payment for helping me with me hair.”

Bessie exhaled when Millie did not argue and turned to go and speak with the men near
the window. Then she walked over to the bar and handed the mugs to Clive.

“Why are ye all of a sudden trying tae help Ellie with the pinnace?” he probed, keeping
his voice low so that only Bessie could hear.

With a small shrug of her shoulders, Bessie replied, “I have me reasons.”

“And just what reason do ye have tae be wanting tae help Ellie return tae a man and
a life she’s running away from?”

Bessie bit her bottom lip. She had decided the very night she had overheard Evette
and Ellie talking that she would not divulge to anyone—even Clive—what she had learned:
that it was not a man, but someone named Aimee who had driven Ellie to this life.
So Bessie told him something he would understand. “I owe a debt and I’m payin’ it
back.”

Clive waved for Devlin to join them. Devlin did so, but his pained expression made
it clear that he wanted to know why he had been summoned. Clive casually pointed at
Bessie before crossing his arms. “Did ye know that our Bessie has decided tae help
Ellie find out about the pinnace?”

Devlin stared at Bessie coolly for several moments. “I don’t think that is a good
idea,” he finally said.

Bessie returned his gaze. “If you’re thinking that, it’s because you’ve already gone
and found out about it. Yet you’ve never said anythin’ to her. And I thought you was
a real gentleman, not just dressed up like one.”

The accusation hit its target and Devlin felt the sudden need to defend his actions.
“
All I know
is which ship the pinnace belongs to, and that the information is meaningless. The
company, ship, owner, captain . . . even the crew have done nothing in the past or
present that would generate the least bit of interest. There is nothing suspicious
or unusual about them in any way. They’re successful but no more so than several other
shipping companies. And from what I’ve learned, the captain of that ship is hard but
fair, with a loyal crew. So until I can figure out how that pinnace is involved with
Ellie, I’m not telling her a bleeding thing. And neither are you.”

Normally, Bessie balked at such orders, but instead she just pointed over to where
Millie stood. “Too late. See those men Ellie is with over there? They know about the
pinnace and are telling her about it right now.”

Devlin’s head shot up and he began to march over toward Millie, but as he did, a familiar
figure came into view. The Bow Street runner who had been following him was across
the street. He was heading toward the tavern, and with him was a tall, dark-haired
man whose clothing was impeccably tailored.

Running a place for gamblers, Devlin had learned to be something of an expert at assessing
people from afar. And it only took him a few seconds to know the man coming toward
the tavern was not just determined to achieve his goal, but lethally so.

Suddenly small fingers flew to his arm and squeezed tight. Millie sucked in her breath
and whispered in fear more to herself than anyone else, “He’s found out that I left.
Oh, good Lord, he cannot find me. Not here. Not now.”

Then his arm was free and she was rushing over to where Clive and Bessie stood. Devlin
quickly joined them. “There is a man coming. He is looking for the same thing I am,
but he
cannot
know that I am here. If you know anything about the pinnace, please tell him. He
has a right to know, but I beg you to tell him
nothing
about me.”

Concerned, Bessie reached out to clasp Millie’s hand. Millie looked pleadingly into
Bessie’s blue eyes. “If he learned I was here, he would be very, very angry. My life
would be over.”

Clive coughed into his hand. “He won’t learn of you from us. Devlin, take her out
the back way.”

Millie scrunched her brows but was given no explanation before Devlin grabbed her
cloak and whisked her into the back room where she thought only extra liquor and spirits
were stored. As soon as they disappeared, Clive yelled out to the room. It wasn’t
often that he used his booming voice, so when he did, it got everybody’s attention
quickly. He knew Ellie had not told him the truth as to why she was there and working
for him, but at the moment it did not matter. Six Belles was his family and she was
now a part of it. And he protected his own. “Anyone says a word about Ellie, knowing
about Ellie, seeing Ellie, or anything about her working here, I’ll make yer life
hell.”

While the order came as a surprise to everybody in the room, not a single soul considered
disobeying it. No one had more contacts along this part of the Thames than Clive.
His network was unparalleled, and getting on the wrong side of a man with connections
was a death sentence.

Thirty seconds later a dark, stern-faced man entered. He was clutching a small portrait
in his hand and walked straight up to Clive. “I’m looking for a man named MacLeery,
who I have been told comes here every night.”

Though not as quick to read men as Devlin was, years of owning his own place and having
to predict the actions and attitudes of men both sober and drunk had enabled Clive
to see that the man staring at him was not one of the pampered, soft-brained gentry.
He exuded an air of command. His mouth was set in a firm, unyielding line, which should
have implied a total lack of emotion. For some reason, Clive got just the opposite
impression. If Clive had to guess, the man was afraid, and unaccustomed to feeling
that way. But just what did a wealthy man like him have to be afraid of? And what
did he want with Ellie?

Clive pointed to the empty chair Devlin normally sat in. “He was here, but he’s already
left.”

The man held out a hand-sized portrait, but carefully kept his thumb over the name
at the bottom. “Have you seen this lady?”

The question was more of a challenge than an inquiry. Again, Clive felt strong emotion
from the man and gazed at the picture as if he were seeing the person for the first
time. In a way, he was. The woman in the portrait was definitely Ellie, but she was
dressed in finery and jewels and appeared more like a heavenly angel than a woman.
No wonder Ellie thought her fancy working gown was plain and unexceptional.

Shifting his gaze back to the tall man’s golden stare, Clive said without any waver
in his voice, “I’ve never seen a lass who looks like that in my life. Why would ye
think a fancy woman like that would be here?”

Clive saw the man’s jaw tighten upon hearing his response. “Knowing her,” the man
answered through gritted teeth, “she believes she has good reasons, but I promise
you they are not.”

Arguing, Clive knew, would only give away the fact that he knew Ellie. So he just
looked at the dark nobleman and shrugged his shoulders, pushing back the niggling
feeling that he would be protecting Ellie better by letting the man know where she
was. But he had made a promise, and a man was worth nothing if he could not keep his
word. “If ye say so. But in my experience, that is the way with most women. Don’t
know why fancy ones like her would be an exception.”

The man looked at the door to his storage area and then back at Clive. “Mind if I
take a look in there?”

“I do, but I don’t think that is going to stop ye.”

The man gave him another pointed look and then went into the back room. A couple of
seconds later he came back out. This time he addressed all those in the tavern. “I’ve
been told a woman works here. She is about this high and has eyes the color of wood
violets. If any of you can tell me where she is staying, I will give you a hundred
pounds.”

Clive smiled inwardly as the men, one by one, went back to their drinks. The upper
class thought the poor cared only for coin and naught for pride and respect. And while
two to three years’ salary was a lot of blunt, it was not a permanent way out of their
poverty. Eventually it would return when the money ran out. Squealers would not have
a life to return to.

“I think, gentry, ye got yer answer,” Clive said calmly. “I have a woman working here
and she is short, but the lass has
never
looked anything like that.”

The man’s gold eyes shifted to the figure standing near the door. Clive guessed he
was a runner. Never had many dealings with them, but very few were unaware of their
existence. The runner crossed his arms. “Can’t say for sure if the barkeep knows her
or not. All I know is MacLeery is a regular here. I never got a look at the other
girl. Just know she has dark brown hair and is shorter than her,” he said, pointing
at Bessie.