A Woman Made for Pleasure

by Michele Sinclair

  “Best take care, lad, and watch yer back,” warned the driver. “There’s a good deal of gamesters in these parts, willing to part a wee lad from his blunt.”

  Millie barely nodded a response before the hack disappeared into the haze. She took a deep breath and looked at the rundown building situated on the corner lot across the street. Maude’s Place of Pleasure was scrawled in faded red script on a lopsided sign swinging from a corner of the building. The structure was in desperate need of repair; various sized holes in the roof were apparent even in the fog. In the back of the building were several large crates piled in crooked stacks and a narrow staircase providing outside access from a second-story room. Nowhere in sight was the Wentworth carriage.

  Millie decided to approach the building from its north side and hide behind the crates as she peered through a window. She was about halfway to her intended destination when she was hauled into the shadows. A sharp, cold blade pressed against her skin.

  “Explain your intentions before my knife finds its home in your neck.” The voice was low and menacing.

  Millie licked her dry lips and tried to respond. “I’m here looking for someone.”

  Suddenly she was yanked back into the shadows and pushed against the side of the building. Chase swore and then muttered hoarsely, “Mildred, I am going to throttle you!”

  Millie sighed in relief. “Shh. I knew coming here would make you mad, but I had to find you. Whether you know it or not, you need me.”

  “I don’t give a tinker’s damn what your reasons are. You are going home, and right now.”

  “But . . .” Before Millie could even begin to argue, Chase’s gloved hand reached out and roughly covered her mouth, pulling her deeper within the shadows underneath a wooden staircase built on the side of the building next to the road. Seconds later, she saw the reason why he silenced her. Two men turning off Bridge Street were approaching from the west, heading toward the rear of the building. She recognized them. They were the same men she had followed into the gardens at Lady Sefton’s ball.

  Concealing Millie behind his greatcoat and the barrels, Chase stepped slightly out of the shadows.

  “Interesting place you chose, Chaselton. A frequent haunt of yours?” the taller, younger man sneered as he moved out of the street and entered the area behind the brothel.

  The second, older man gave his companion a signal and stepped in front of the light so that his features were masked in the darkness. “We have waited long for this night. Have you brought the items?”

  Chase eyed the men carefully, taking his time to reply. “I am afraid I will be unable to have this conversation until your entire party arrives.”

  The younger man scowled and advanced a few steps. “We never agreed to that.”

  Chase stared at the young fool and then leveled his gaze at the man behind him. “I would advise your friend that if he wishes to live, he should retrace his last steps and quickly.” After the impetuous man stepped back, Chase continued. “I want assurance that I will be accepted into your group, and I am wagering neither of you has the ability to grant my request.”

  Millie could not see, but she heard the approaching footsteps of another man. She felt Chase’s body stiffen with recognition and loathing. “I wondered how deep your involvement was. I must admit I did not think you were one to get your hands dirty. Not a dandy’s line of work we are engaged in,” Chase said contemptuously.

  “Seeing you grovel makes it all worth it, Chaselton. Where are the items?”

  Millie listened to the voice hiss with violence and hatred. She knew instantly who it was: Lord Marston. She swallowed heavily. It now made sense why Marston was so interested first in Aimee, then herself. He was going to use her to get whatever they wanted from Chase.

  “Regardless of what your supposed intellect tells you, you are not an important player in this transaction,” Chase said, unmoved by Marston’s taunts. “I am still waiting, and will continue to wait, for your leader.”

  Marston eyed Chaselton. “Do you want to know what I think? I think you do not have all the markers, nor do you have a clue as to where they are.”

  Chase smiled faintly in the moonlight, but the curve of his mouth held no warmth and his shadowed gaze revealed nothing. In truth, Marston was correct. Chase had no idea what the other two items were, let alone their location. Instinctively, his hand slid down to the cloak pocket to find the marker he did have. Alarm went through him. It was gone.

  The younger man lost his patience in the silence that fell on the small group. “He knows. Bloody hell, we all know where at least one of the damn things is. It was hanging between the dark-haired wench’s bosoms just last week. We all recognized the crest.”

  Chase’s insides clenched, and he felt his control slip at the man’s degrading mention of Millie. Never in the past eight years had he had any difficulty keeping his emotions at bay. But since falling in love with Millie, his sensitivity to such slanders had been reborn. Only his need to protect her was keeping him from attacking.

  Millie remained hunched between Chase and a crate, listening. She could make out the words, but their conversation made no sense. They mentioned her pendant having a crest. She pulled it out of her pocket and in the dark traced the item. She knew of only two other items that had the same pattern. The same day Chase’s father gave her the pendant, he also gave Jennelle and Aimee gifts with the same symbol. Could that be what they mean? It had to be. It was the only thing that made sense. But she could not imagine how any of the three items could be of any value to anyone else.

  Marston studied the situation for a moment and then guessed at the truth. “You make my point, Hennessey. He does not possess the markers. He never would have risked Lady Aldon’s safety by allowing her to wear one the other night. You are biding your time, Chaselton. Time you no longer have. I think we should kill you now.”

  Hunched between Chase and the crate, Millie heard a pistol being cocked and became alarmed when Chase did not move to defend himself. She had to do something. Trying to keep out of sight, she slipped the amulet into the pocket of Chase’s overcoat, and whispered, “Your father also gave us a key and a chest. They are still in Dorset.”

  Feeling the heavy item fall, Chase’s mouth twisted without humor. “Marston, I shall dicker with you no more.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the amethyst pendant now dangling on its customary chain. “I have the brooch on me for proof of my claims. The other two markers—a key and a chest—are in safe keeping. You want them, and I want to meet your leader.”

  Marston began laughing. “You think that mere knowledge of the items buys you protection? You have just sealed your fate, Chaselton. If you truly know the markers’ location, then you know too much. And do not think you can plead for your life by revealing their location. You will die tonight, screaming, just like your father.”

  Marston searched Chase’s face for some reaction. Finding none, he attacked from a new direction. “I believe your absence will leave several women in your care fairly vulnerable. I wonder whether a certain delectable dark-haired morsel will be more acquiescent without you around. Tell me, Chaselton, is Mildred as tasty as she appears?”

  Marston’s words were still lingering in the air when the greatcoat Millie was partially crouched behind suddenly disappeared. She looked up to see Chase kick a blow to Marston’s chin, spin to miss a knife thrust by the younger man, while dealing a severe side blow to the older man, rendering him unconscious. Marston regained his bearings as Chase quickly disarmed the younger man, who, though he lacked skill at keeping silent, was a very able fighter.

  Millie reached for her pistol. She aimed but found it impossible to get a clear shot at Marston. Chase, now fighting both men, secured the younger man’s knife before knocking him out cold. Seeing Marston and Chase fight, there was no doubt who the winner would be.

  Relieved, Millie lowered her weapon and watched Chase quickly secure Marston in a neck hold with the knife to his throat. She
was just about to put the pistol away and step out from the shadows when she heard a door shut above her.

  Her heart caught in her throat when she heard the sinister man’s voice. She remembered it from the gardens. He must be the leader Chase wanted to meet.

  She watched the dark, masked figure slowly descend the creaking stairs with a gun aimed at Chase. It mattered little that Marston, held at knifepoint, blocked most of Chase’s body. Only a few feet separated the man from his target, and he was aiming at Chase’s eyes.

  “Marston, you always were a pompous fool,” the deep and heavily accented voice snickered. “Your job was simple, but you could not master it. Charm the girl, get her brooch, and discover if she and her friends were given any other Rebuilder items. You, who woo all women into your bed, couldn’t manage to accomplish even that objective.”

  Chase watched as the masked man stood on the bottom step of the stairs. He felt Marston struggle to answer, and he tightened his grip so only a gargle emerged. Chase felt his facial features harden to an ice-cold veneer as his father’s killer approached.

  Chase realized his death might be imminent, but before it came he wanted to know the identity of the man who had murdered too many for the ultimate power—the power to control England.

  “I take it my request to join your cause has been denied.”

  The masked man chuckled slightly, but his aim never wavered. “Ah, if you were in truth interested, I would have gladly welcomed you at my side. But I am afraid you are too much like your father, idealistic and far from weak. A combination that made it necessary to hasten his death—and now yours.”

  The older man coldly watched as Marston struggled again in vain. “I told you to be wary, Marston. But would you listen to me? I’ve studied Chaselton for years, learned of his skills, and discovered his triumphs. I knew you three were not a match for him. The only way to kill Chaselton is to catch him unawares, but I must admit I thought it would be a tad more difficult than this.”

  Millie watched as the man shifted his stance, preparing to shoot. Reacting on instinct, Millie fired. A moment later, she heard a second shot ring out. The leader had fired his pistol before he vanished into the thickening fog.

  She came running out of the shadows shouting out “No!” as she stumbled toward Chase, who was falling to the ground with Marston. “Charlie! God, no, not Charlie!”

  Chase moved the injured Marston to the side and captured a terrified Millie in his arms. “It’s over,” he whispered, kissing her hair. “It’s all over. I’m fine.”

  Millie pushed back and looked up, tears brimming in her large eyes. “But I heard him shoot you.”

  Chase glanced down at Marston and made his decision. Marston would have to die a lingering death, but he would not slit a man’s throat in front of Millie. Retrieving the knife, he picked her up and quickly headed into the shadows of the night. Then Chase stopped and placed her between several stacked barrels in a darkened alley.

  “Stay here, Millie. Do not make a move or a sound.” His words were still in the air when Chase disappeared into the dense fog.

  Millie slowly sank down and leaned against the rough wooden barrels. She rubbed her arms, but the cold was pervasive, and she could not stop herself from trembling. She closed her eyes, letting tears slip down her cheeks.

  Chase had almost been killed. Marston was part of the group Chase was after. The twisted lord had even helped murder Brumby . . . and all for her brooch, Aimee’s chest, and Jennelle’s key. Three items that held absolutely no value. It made no sense.

  Millie heard men walk by, their footsteps retreating into the darkness. Occasionally she heard a light splash as someone threw something into the Thames. The cold, moist air seeped into her bones, and for the first time in her life, she did exactly what Chase told her to do. She waited.

  Millie felt herself being shaken and forced back to a place that was cold, damp, and full of death. She shook her head.

  “Millie, wake up. We must go. I need you to walk. Millie, can you hear me? You need to get up and walk now.”

  It was the urgency in the voice that finally awoke her. It was half plea, half terror. “Chase, you dropped the pendant.”

  “Yes. And you bravely brought it to me, remember? But we need to leave, love, and now. It is not safe for either of us here, this time of night.”

  Millie rose and felt the stinging pain of numb, deadened limbs being awakened. Witnessing her grimace, Chase asked, “Can you walk?”

  “Yes, if I must.”

  Slowly at first and then with increasing speed, Chase led them in silence, south through back alleys and dark streets. They encountered no one. Then they turned and the noise became louder as more and more people wandered the streets. Millie knew where they were. They were near Vauxhall.

  Chase moved them again into the shadows. “We can rest here for a bit. I’m afraid we still have a way to go before sunlight. We cannot stay here for long. The Gardens are emptying and the cover of the crowds will soon be gone.”

  Millie rubbed her hands together. “What’s happening? Why are we running on foot?”

  Chase looked at her huddled form and reached out for her hands. They were ice-cold. Her face was pale and her eyes were large, making her seem fragile and vulnerable.

  He grabbed her hands and rubbed them, blowing his warm breath over her icy fingertips. “I need to get you back to safety.”

  “That man . . . I shot, is he dead?”

  “No, you hit him but not fatally and I was not able to catch him when he ran away. Unfortunately, whoever he is now knows I did not come alone. I am afraid you have made yourself a target, love. If you are not back at Hembree Grove before morning, he might suspect it was you by my side, despite how unlikely it sounds.”

  Millie looked around. “There are faster modes of travel, you know.” She retrieved her hands. “And warmer ones, as well.”

  “You chose our mode, love. Not I. Maybe not by choice, but your actions forced my hand.” Chase pulled her close. Never had he felt so much fear. The knowledge that at any moment Millie could have been discovered and killed had been nearly paralyzing. “Are you ready? We need the cover of darkness to cross the bridge.”

  Millie narrowed her eyes at his back as she followed him again into the streets and past the Vauxhall distillery. The man could have acted at least somewhat grateful. It was she who gave him the brooch, told him of the two other items, and saved his life. He had not once expressed any type of gratitude.

  After another hour of walking and hiding in the damp streets of London, Millie could no longer keep up. Chase stopped and looked at her. They were still south of St. James’s Park in an alley off York Street. They would not make Hembree Grove by daylight at their slowing pace. Chase signaled a hack across the street.

  Millie stepped into the small, uncomfortable ride and heard Chase tell the driver, “Leicester Square and be quick,” before stepping in.

  Chase looked at Millie. Her eyes were haunted, distant, and drained. “We can only travel so far this way, but Hembree Grove is not far from the square.”

  Millie nodded. “Why can we not just go straight home?”

  Chase watched Millie retreat. She had not argued once during this ordeal and had kept up with him despite the hard pace he had set. Still, his racing heart could not be slowed. “Because you put yourself in enormous danger by following me. Right now there are undoubtedly men camped outside of Hembree Grove watching for a carriage. Waiting for you.” He paused and saw that his words were only partially registering. She was too cold. He raked his fingers through his hair and tried to explain. “After I dropped you off at Hembree Grove earlier, I realized my chaise was being followed. Most likely it was the man you shot. I had to wait until my driver entered a crowded part of town to sneak a drunk into my carriage as I slipped out. The man will awaken tomorrow very happy to find himself in one of the better London brothels.”

  “But why?”

  “Because whoever you shot want
s to know your identity. He will be watching anyone associated with me, and that includes you. Right now, they assume a man fired the shot, but if anyone discovers you have not been safely inside Hembree Grove this evening, they will not take the chance and they will kill you.” Chase grabbed her forcefully, just shy of bruising her arms. “And I will not let that happen. No one is going to take you away from me.” He then released her and sank back into the seat.

  His harsh handling brought Millie out of her numb stupor. She fumed in silence until her anger built to where she could hold it in no longer. “Do you not understand I feel the same way? I had to follow you this evening. I love you, Chase. And no one, not even you and your damned pride, is going to take you away from me.”

  Suddenly it was all too much, and she felt herself emotionally crumbling when Chase lifted her and nestled her on his lap. Millie opened her damp lashes and gazed into his golden eyes. There was no mistaking their dark look. Millie shivered at his touch, but this time not from the cold. His lips were so close to hers, she could feel his breath on her upper lip. He leaned down and kissed her mouth hungrily, his tongue softly seeking hers in reassurance, his restraint almost shattered knowing how close he had been, and still was, to losing her.

  Millie threaded her fingers through his hair, tightening their grip with the same urgent need. She opened her mouth wider, inviting him to devour her as if this kiss were their last.

  Chase ached to be deep inside her and feel her shiver with release. Nothing in his life would ever be this good, this important. “God, Millie, I cannot lose you. Not now, not ever. I need you. Without you I am lost.” His voice was deep, husky, and fearful at the thought of life without her.

  Millie’s eyes were brilliant as she looked up at him through her lashes. Chase felt himself drowning in her gaze. “Never. Never will you be without me,” she promised. Feeling an incredible well of peace, she wrapped her arms around his neck and stroked his cheek.

  Chase pulled Millie even closer to him and pressed her head to his chest. He would need to hold her for a long while before his fears and memories of this evening subsided.