A Woman Made for Sin (14 page)

As expected, the thief had come into his home, but Chase had not anticipated the man
would be able to overcome two guards. The strikes had been precise and potentially
deadly, which only someone with extensive combat training would know how to do. The
attacker had also known about the secret drawer in his desk. But what concerned Chase
the most was that the thief had known just how to escape. The thief was not a stranger
but someone who had been in his home and in his study. Someone he trusted.

Any wavering thoughts he had about allowing Millie to return home vanished. Until
now, the incidents had been benign, but now he was dealing with a dangerous villain.
Tonight he had been unsuccessful in finding the three maps he knew Chase had in his
possession, which meant next time he was going to get creative.

Only three things in Chase’s life could be used as leverage against him. His mother,
who was safe in Scotland; his sister—who, ironically, had placed herself in safety
when she allowed herself to be abducted by Reece’s men; and his wife—his greatest
weakness.

He had almost lost Millie to a madman once. Never again. However long it took, she
was going to remain safely away from anyone who thought to use her to force his hand.

In another part of the house, Elda Mae quickly lit a candle. She took out some paper
and an inkwell and sat down. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to calm her excited
nerves. For too many days, she had watched and listened for anything the master did,
but he was just as silent as the house.

Visitors had stopped by for business, but only one had been summoned to handle the
riddles of the thief and of Aimee. Elda Mae had told the rest of the staff to find
her, for she must be present when the Bow Street runner came to call. But until today,
her eavesdropping had resulted in nothing of value. More questions than answers. But
much had happened this day.

Elda Mae did not know where to begin. What should she relay first? That Aimee was
most likely safe and with Reece?

Or that the marquess was in grave danger?

October 19, 1816

Millie stepped out of her father’s post chaise in front of a sizeable gray stone manor
that was Jennelle’s residence. It was just as she remembered, though she had only
visited the place a handful of times in her youth.

“Should I get your bags down, my lady?”

Millie looked back at the questioning expression on the older footman’s wrinkled but
very expressive face. “Yes, please,” she answered and returned her gaze to the manor.

Four days ago, she had initiated her plan and then waited for a reply. It finally
came two days later. All Madame Sasha’s note said was
Gent Manor, Saturday 3 p.m
., but that was enough. She would have only a little more than two hours to spend
with Jennelle, though her friend thought otherwise.

Millie had not seen her since the day they had departed London. They had written to
each other twice, but all of their correspondence had been brief, as the one topic
they were most consumed with neither wanted to discuss. It was too hard to sit and
wait and know nothing. Soon that would end, for Millie was determined to find out
what had happened to Aimee.

Squaring her shoulders, she walked slowly up the stone steps. For a moment, a twinge
of guilt pulled at her, but Millie pushed the feeling aside and was about to rap firmly
on one of the old oak doors when it unexpectedly opened. Millie jumped back, startled.
There before her was a
butler.
If not, it was an exceptionally small man dressed like one.

Two dark and wizened eyes narrowed at her and Millie stared curiously back. She suspected
she was supposed to find the gaze intimidating, but she was too caught up in the fact
that she was returning his gaze without having to tilt her chin even remotely upward.
The man was born to be a jockey, not a butler. And yet he most certainly was one,
something Millie never thought to see at the Gent Manor.

Jennelle’s father, Lord Gent, had a fairly substantial stipend, which he generously
used to support his love of knowledge by acquiring an ever-increasing amount of books.
To spend coin on servants might infringe upon his ability to indulge in his favorite
pastime. Millie could remember him saying more than once that all he required was
a good cook and a dependable housekeeper. Over the years, Jennelle had managed to
convince him that a scullery maid to help in the kitchens, a couple more housemaids,
one of whom could assist as a lady’s maid, and a stable master were also necessary.
He had finally agreed on the promise that they would help to keep his life peaceful
and allow limited interruptions when he was doing his research and writing.

Seeing the improvement the handful of staff made to the quality of their living environment,
Jennelle had then attempted to persuade her father to hire a butler and a gardener,
but this time he had adamantly refused. “What do I need a gardener for, my dear?”
he would ask. “We do not have parties. And neither you nor I is inclined to take turns
about the hedges we have.” Jennelle had often told Millie that she would have liked
to walk in the gardens as she did so often when visiting her and Aimee, but could
not, as hers were riddled with thorns.

The small man broke his gaze and gave a wide wave and bow for her to enter. “Lady
Chaselton, please come in and I will see you to the salon.” Once Millie entered the
room, he spoke again. “I shall let Miss Perrin know you are here.” And suddenly he
was gone, leaving Millie to stare openmouthed at the salon door.

Miss Perrin?
she repeated silently, unable to make a sound. Granted, her friend
was
technically Jennelle Perrin, as her father was a baron. As such, she was supposed
to be referred to as Miss Perrin in formal situations, but it had been years since
anyone had called her that. Early into their friendship, Millie and Aimee realized
that everyone addressed them as “lady,” but not Jennelle. Thinking it was quite unfair,
they had decided everyone would call her Lady Jennelle. Mother Wentworth had readily
agreed. It had taken some time to convince Chase, his friends, and all the servants,
but they had eventually acquiesced to the girls’ constant entreaties. The honorary
title had been used for so long it had become second nature to use it. But it seemed
Jennelle’s butler was a stickler for the proprieties.

Millie was pulling off her second glove when double doors burst open and Jennelle
rushed in. They embraced for several seconds before Jennelle finally pulled back.
Her blue eyes studied Millie’s, looking for any sign of hope that there was news of
Aimee. Seeing none, she swallowed. “What has Charles told you?”

Millie looked down for a place to sit. “Nothing,” she answered simply, deciding on
the settee.

“Nothing about Aimee? Or—”

“I meant
nothing
,” Millie repeated, making a slicing gesture with her hand.

Jennelle sank down beside her, shock filling her expression. “Nothing,” she repeated.

“I have received not a single letter. Most likely for the same reason I have yet to
send him one. We have nothing to say that the other wants to hear. He obviously has
no news of Aimee, and I would only beg to come home and help.”

Jennelle swallowed, once again thankful she was not in love or ever planned to be.
“I suspect you are right. I doubt Charles realizes the pain he is causing by sending
no word at all. But he will soon, Millie. We will have our Aimee back and she will
be telling us all about her grand adventure, making us so jealous we all will forget
these weeks of worry. I know it.”

Millie offered Jennelle a smile when a soft cough came from behind her. Jennelle turned
and gave the man a nod in acknowledgment. “Thank you, Mr. Wattkins.”

Once the tray was settled, the butler bowed and left, closing the salon doors quietly
behind him. “Who
is
that?” Millie asked quietly as she stared at the doors, waiting for them to spring
open again at any moment.

“
That
was Mr. Wattkins,” Jennelle answered before taking a sip of the hot tea. “He has
been a godsend, and to think that I was worried the other servants would harass him
when he first arrived.”

“But however did you convince your father to employ another servant?”

Jennelle sighed. “It was not me, but Alice, our housekeeper, and Emmerick, our cook.
Those two have bickered since I can remember. In many ways, I think they actually
enjoy quarreling as long as everyone plays their assigned roles—and mine is that of
the pacifier. But I have been gone much of this year, and the fighting must have gotten
to untenable levels during my last absence. You know my father, he likes simplicity
but demands peace and quiet to do his reading. I was not home more than a handful
of hours when it started again between them. This time, however, Father looked at
me and said, ‘Jennelle, get someone in here to handle those two and do it immediately!’”

“But how did you select Mr. Wattkins—
Miss Perrin
?” Millie asked.

Jennelle waved her hand. “Oh, the man
is
dreadfully formal, but he is amazing at keeping peace among all the servants. Even
more importantly, it was Mr. Wattkins who made it clear to my father that the manor
was in need of a gardener. Without pause, my father agreed.”

Millie twisted her hands together to release some of the nervous energy building within
her. So much of her wanted this visit to be like the others, when she and Jennelle
could just talk and enjoy each other’s company, but with Aimee missing, it was impossible.

Jennelle eyed her for a long moment and then said, “Come. Take a walk in the gardens
and tell me your plans to find our friend.”

Millie felt her eyebrows arch in surprise and then shook her head. She should have
known that Jennelle would recognize she was not here to commiserate but to take action.
She had known Millie for too long.

Nodding in agreement, Millie followed Jennelle through the connecting doors to the
back library, which had originally been designed as a small hall for dancing. Jennelle
pushed the double glass doors open and stepped out on the stone terrace, pausing for
Millie to join her. The stone veranda was much smaller than the one at Abileen Rose,
which in turn was a fraction of the one on Chase’s country estate. But it had a wonderful
view, and the gardener had made several improvements. By spring, the area would be
lovely. A place Aimee hopefully would get to see.

“You might as well tell me your plans now,” Jennelle stated without preamble. “I know
as a good hostess I should inquire after your father and you about mine. We could
make niceties all afternoon, but what I really want to know is just what we are going
to do about Aimee. And I know you have a plan, Millie. Tell me now or I shall use
every means of manipulation and subterfuge to get you to admit what it is.”

Millie chuckled at the soft, semi-serious threat. She stepped down the stairs into
the sunlight. Bringing a hand up to shade her squinting eyes, she wished she had not
left her bonnet behind, but was too lazy to go back and fetch it. “Subterfuge will
not be necessary, Jennelle, for there is nothing to say that you don’t already know.
When I became Lady Chaselton, it was a little overwhelming. I did not feel worthy
of being the marchioness of such a substantial estate or to such an important man.
I have never desired to cater to what those in Society think is correct and proper.
I prefer to follow my own counsel. Therefore, I’ve always known that the
ton
would never really accept me. They might pretend, but not truly welcome me. Chase,
however, believes differently. The moment we arrived in Town, he started trying to
convince me in various ways that I do belong.”

Jennelle remembered Chase and Mother Wentworth coaching Millie into hosting one of
the first social events of the Little Season. Jennelle’s understanding was that the
party had been quite a coup. Millie had been a gracious, stunning, and undeniably
faultless hostess. Mother Wentworth had declared that Millie knew everything she needed
to make her Charles proud, and promptly left to visit her friends the MacLeeries in
Scotland. One week later, Aimee had talked the Daring Three into one last adventure
and everything went wrong.

“If Mother Wentworth believes you are a fine marchioness, then you are.”

“Unfortunately that does not make me a
wife
my husband can be proud of. After what happened with Aimee, I wonder if I will ever
have the aptitude to be such a wife.” Millie lightly kicked a stone and watched it
tumble down the rocky path.

“It was not you or me who abducted Aimee that night. If she had done what you said,
she would be here, with us, right now. It was her choice—not mine and not yours.”

Millie crossed her arms but nodded her head. “You’re right.”

Jennelle took a step forward to stand next to Millie, looking skeptical. “I am?”

“Yes. All three of us can be extremely obstinate, and Aimee is especially so when
it comes to Reece.”

“Finally!” Jennelle exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “The voice of reason
is released from your lips.”

“I am also aware that if I
had
refused to help her, Aimee would have just found another way to capture Reece’s attention.”

“Of course she would have. All you have to do is explain this to Charles now that
he has had time to think and gather his wits, and make him understand . . .”

“But don’t you see, Jennelle?” Millie asked. “None of that matters. Aimee is still
missing and she will eventually need to own responsibility for the pain she caused.
However, I too must own what I did to Chase by helping Aimee. And waiting at my father’s
for her to be found will not help right my wrongs. By now Chase must have exhausted
his resources; otherwise he would have told us something. His ways, however, are not
the only means to determine what happened to Aimee.”

“I truly think she is with Reece, Millie. I might not have seen her being taken, but
I was close enough to have heard a scuffle, a muted scream—anything that would signal
she was in trouble. I heard nothing.”

“I was there as well, and everything I saw tells me the same—that Aimee
believed
she was being taken by Reece’s men. But if that were true, she should have been home
by now.”

Jennelle nodded. “When we heard no news in the first few days, I became worried for
the same reason. But unless those were pirates taking her—which I am positive they
were not—the captain of
any
ship would have turned promptly around upon discovering her gender. Which brings
me back to my original conclusion: Aimee is with Reece. Just as she managed to get
aboard his ship, she found a way to stay. Aimee claimed she only wanted to talk to
Reece, but what she really sought was time with him. Time to either convince Reece
that he does love her, or for her to come to the conclusion that he is not the man
for her. I suspect our clever friend found a way to keep that ship on its course,
and it will be two months before we see her again.”

Millie had not considered that possibility, but it only further supported the necessity
of her plan. “Two months is a long time. If only we could be sure she was on the
Sea Emerald
, then we could all rest peacefully.”

Jennelle nodded in agreement. “So what is your plan?” Jennelle probed. Before Millie
could deny the existence of a plan, she added, “Was it not you who once told me that
trying to keep you confined to a life of rules and restrictions was like me never
reading another book? Simply impossible. And think again before you refuse my company.”

Millie stopped walking and turned to look at her friend. “I do have a plan, Jennelle,
but for me alone.”

Jennelle’s blue eyes simmered. “Why? Because I’m too practical and levelheaded? Maybe
I am, but you underestimate how much I enjoy our escapades. You and Aimee do not have
the monopoly on passion. I’ll have you know that I possess quite a desire for thrilling
activities. If I did not, there would have been no amount of cajolery that could have
enticed me to join you on so many of your questionable excursions.”