A Woman Made for Pleasure (35 page)

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Authors: Michele Sinclair

Tags: #Fiction, #General

BOOK: A Woman Made for Pleasure
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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.
“We must get you home.”
Feeling better, Millie nodded. “Is Marston . . . dead?”
Chase inhaled deeply, recalling how she had saved his life and how he had had to leave Marston dying in order to protect her. “I believe so.”
“Who was that man, the man I shot? Why does he want you and my brooch?”
Chase took several deep breaths. It was time, he acknowledged to himself. He had brought no one—not even Reece—totally into his confidence. But for some reason he wanted no secrets between Millie and himself—ever.
“There is a secret group of nobles who call themselves the Rebuilders. Within this group, there is a cluster of corrupt and power-hungry individuals—the man you shot is their leader.”
Millie scrunched her nose, trying to recall a group with that name. “The Rebuilders? Rebuilders of what?”
“The British Empire.” Chase’s voice was without inflection. It precisely conveyed the seriousness of his statement.
“Oh.”
Feeling her breath lightly caress his skin, Chase needed to occupy his hands and slowly began to stroke her hair as he continued. “Over a hundred years ago, several noblemen began to meet secretly. They were like-minded individuals who talked politics and government and eventually began calling themselves the Rebuilders. When the American colonies started to thrive, several nobles saw them as a chance to restore England’s position of power and wealth in the world.”
Millie sighed, loving the feeling of being in Chase’s arms and his fingers caressing her hair. “Seems quite improbable, but innocent.”
Chase kissed her temple. “For the last two decades, there has been a growing group within the Rebuilders. They were incensed at England’s loss of power in the colonial war. Roughly eight years ago, a shift in leadership occurred and key members of the group died and were replaced with power-hungry, self-serving men. During this time of chaos, an anonymous, unscrupulous man became their leader. He and his followers split from the Rebuilders and began calling themselves the Expansionists. They wanted to retake the colonies and continue expanding the British Empire, and their leader was willing to use any means—including the senseless deaths of English soldiers—to attain his goal.”
Millie moved so that she could look at him directly. “How are you aware of all this, Chase?”
“I believe an Expansionist leader killed my father.”
“But why? Why your father?”
“When I turned two and twenty, the Expansionist faction had grown considerably and several members held positions of power. England began experiencing military losses that perpetuated our country in a state of war when a treaty might have been made—something the Expansionists were unconditionally against. My father believed a traitor was feeding the enemy information and was behind many of the defeats that created the political pressure to put aside thoughts of a truce and continue fighting.”
“But how?”
“My father reasoned the traitor was working with someone inside the war department.”
“That is why you left for the war.”
“Yes, but only after my father’s death did I find proof that he was right; England did have a traitor. The evidence, however, did not include a name.”
“Good Lord, Chase. What is your proof?”
“Correspondence, most of which indirectly shows the traitor’s handiwork, but I have one piece that undeniably proves his existence. Angered by the impending peace treaty to be signed between America and England, the traitor stripped General Sir Pakenham of his more talented advisors and sent him to war—not telling him of the impending treaty. I have a letter from the traitor to an initial
G
outlining the plans that Pakenham unwittingly followed, resulting in the deaths of thousands of English soldiers. His goal was to keep the noblemen’s thirst for revenge alive to stop the treaty.”
“But that means . . . all those men . . .”
“Yes. We lost over seventy-five hundred men—many experienced veterans—to an unnecessary battle that we were intended to lose.”
“But what are you going to do without a name? You cannot go forward with the evidence you have—why, every noble associated with the Rebuilders would be ruined.”
“That is why after I drop you off tonight I am going to retrieve the name and the proof. Then I can find justice for my father.”
“But how?”
Chase reached into his pocket and retrieved the amethyst brooch.
“My pendant,” Millie whispered.
“You mentioned a key and a chest. Where exactly are they?”
Millie looked up, her eyes glowing. “I can take you right to them.”
“No, Millie,” Chase said forcefully. “You are going to Hembree Grove, and you are going to remain safe. Tell me where the items are.”
Tears filled Millie’s eyes as she realized there was no other way. Without the identity of the killer, Chase would never be safe. “They are in the loft, next to all the clothes we used as costumes.”
Chase hugged her to him again. “Like the one you were wearing at Vauxhall?” He felt her nod of confirmation and gave himself a mental kick for not thinking to look in the attic. He prayed the others who had searched his home had also made the same mistake.
Millie felt the carriage roll to a stop. She knew in just a few minutes’ time, they would be parting, maybe forever. “Promise me you will be careful, Chase. Promise me.”
Chase pulled her into his arms, and before he captured her lips in a last, searing kiss, he whispered, “I promise, my love.”
 
 
Millie slowly entered the salon, staring at the back of the gentleman peeking out the window. He was a nondescript type of man. Neither overly tall nor short. No identifiable characteristics made him stand out. Nonetheless, Millie knew who he was.
This man could easily be a friend and confidant of Chase’s, but the stakes were too high to risk discovering she was wrong.
For once in your life
, Millie vowed to herself,
remain composed and say nothing
.
“Sir Edward! How kind of you to visit!”
Edward gradually turned around, slightly stunned at the friendly greeting. “My lady, how gratified I am that you remember me. I must confess I wondered if you would.”
Millie donned her most charming smile and reached out her hands in welcome. “Why, of course I remember you. We met earlier this Season at Lady Bassel’s ball. You were a most affable gentleman.”
Edward feigned embarrassment. “Ah, my lady, you do know how to flatter a man.”
Millie indicated a deep cranberry and gold chair nearby. “Please, do take a seat and have some refreshment.”
“Thank you, my lady, but I have no need for any beverage. Please, let me apologize for my abrupt appearance. I know I was unexpected.”
Millie spooned some sugar in a cup and replied, “No need for apologies, Sir Edward. You are most welcome.”
Wincing, he sat in the chair and coughed. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
This time it was Millie who feigned embarrassment and elegantly cringed. “The news has spread fast, I see.”
Edward chuckled. “Indeed, but that is to be expected. How often does an eligible marquess carry the daughter of an earl out of Lady Castlereagh’s ballroom and announce to all that she is to be his wife?”
“Yes, Lord Chaselton and I had quite a lively discussion on the way home regarding that particular method of announcing one’s betrothal.”
“But I see you have it resolved.”
“Yes, and, I confess, I have loved him my whole life. Although not until last night did I discover his feelings for me were remotely similar.”
Edward eyed the young, poised woman across from him. “I have a second confession, my lady.”
Millie lifted her lashes and widened her eyes. “Oh?”
“While I extend my heartiest best wishes in regard to your upcoming nuptials, I asked to see you today to inquire about Lord Chaselton. Have you seen him, by chance?”
Stay calm and composed
, Millie repeated to herself. “Not since last night. However, I do expect him later today. Should I tell him you called?”
“No, it is of no true import. It can wait until I see him later at White’s.” He paused, staring at her without emotion for several seconds before continuing. “You normally wear an unusual brooch, if I recall?”
Millie sipped some tea, hoping the action would soothe her nerves. Watching him wince with every movement and use his left hand for everything, when he was clearly right-handed, were both signs. The traitor had a foreign accent, but a spy would be adept at imitating another voice to conceal his identity. Knowing that and hearing that simple inquiry, she was certain who sat but a mere three feet from her. Sir Edward was the traitor. Chase’s mentor and friend.
She forced herself to smile warmly, as if recalling a fond memory. “Indeed. I feel somewhat odd without it. I do hope Charles returns it soon. He asked for it last night in hopes to have a jeweler create a matching bracelet as a wedding gift.”
Edward raised his eyebrows. “I must say, I am surprised by his offer.”
Millie put her hand up, pretending she understood his remark. “No, no, it is a most appropriate gift, I assure you. While I know it has a unique and peculiar design, the brooch means a lot to me, and Charles knows how much I treasure it.”
“I am surprised, not by your fondness of the item, but of Chaselton’s willingness to have his wife openly wear his crest of the Rebuilders.”
This time Millie did not have to act as if she were surprised. “Did you say
his
crest of the
Rebuilders
?”
Edward crinkled his face into an oily smile. “Didn’t he tell you, my dear? That he is the leader of a group of nobles intending to rebuild England as a major power in the world.”
Millie stared at the man and then laughed aloud. “Sir Edward, you make no sense. My future husband is no leader of a . . . a group of nobles. Up until a few months ago, he was fighting against France. You must be mistaken.”
“He did not tell you, then? He did not discuss your amulet? Explain its origins?”
Millie furrowed her brow. “He would not know of its origins for it was his father who gave it to me as a gift. He gave all of us presents and I promise you, they were only trinkets offered to cheer us up.”
Millie watched as Edward heaved himself out of the deep chair. She rose as well, mentally rallying herself. If there ever was a time she needed nerves of steel, it was during these next few moments.
“Sir Edward, I feel as if I have been no help to you at all today. Can I deliver a message for you when Charles comes to call? Would you like to wait? I am sure he will be arriving soon. You can discuss my brooch and the other items. . . .”
His reaction was the final proof. “Other items?”
Millie tilted her head and generated what she hoped was a perplexed look. “Yes, the ones I just mentioned. The gifts his father gave Aimee, Jennelle, and me. I gave them to Charles last night along with my brooch. With your knowledge of the crest inscribed on them, I am sure he would like to speak to you after he has finished his errands.”
Edward bowed and moved to leave. “Thank you, my lady, for your kind offer, but I must depart.” He paused and turned back. “Mayhap I can redirect my route and encounter him on my way through Town. Would he happen to have mentioned what errands he had to accomplish before meeting with you today?”
“Not exactly, no, I am afraid,” Millie said, escorting him to the door. “He made some off-handed comment in regard to Hyde Park before meeting my father this morning. Beyond that, I am afraid I cannot be of help.”

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