Chapter 1

A aron loved living in London. His town house was large and spacious, which suited his needs perfectly. But this evening, the walls were closing in, and he had no mind to sit alone and reflect on his past mistakes. Betrayal being at the top of the list. Oh, his brother had finally come around, but had he truly forgiven Aaron? At the moment, guilt was not foremost in his mind. Even his trip to Brighton—the one he barely remembered—still could not fathom how the old man had drunk him into oblivion. He was still confused over the abrupt fog that had suddenly filled his mind where he'd lost an entire night. Good God, he could not remember how he'd passed the evening. Bother all that. His friend was missing, and he could not help but feel responsible.

Aaron grabbed his hat and coat, and strode down the corridor to the front door. The afternoon held a chill. He turned up the collar of his fashionably tailored coat and ducked his head into the crisp wind. His long legs ate up the distance in short order, but then he had a purpose for his intended direction. Someone along the warehouses should know something.

Five days, and still no sign of Blade. His brothers believed Blade dead. They tried reasoning with him.

Bollocks.

What his brothers called reason, he begged to differ. Reason did not bear proof. He required proof before he would declare his friend's demise.

T'was not like Blade to disappear. Not for so many days, and without a word. Aaron hated thinking his friend had been blown to bits along with Bellingham's ship. He shuddered, which had nothing to do with the chilly wind. Unwanted thoughts ran amok in his head. A vicious circle, fathoms deep, and as dark as the latest hour of the night.

What if Bellingham had caught Blade?

Damn his brother, Edmund, for allowing Bellingham into their lives. Aaron knew the cur had been up to no good. A smuggler. Opium, no less. The man had wanted Greystoke Manor to further his illegal activities. And damned if Edmund hadn't given over to the evil blackguard. When Nathaniel had come home, he had no idea he was walking into a hornets' nest. He'd set the miscreant straight, but was shot before they could put an end to the smugglers. Nathaniel had recovered well enough, and together, Aaron and his brothers blew up the cargo in the caves. That is, Blade did. And he'd set the explosives on Bellingham's ship, sinking the vessel to the bottom of the sea with fiery thunder.

Where the hell was Blade now?

Aaron picked up his pace. Fear and anger driving him forward. Blade had been his friend for years. On one of his jaunts down to the docks, Blade had saved his hide. It smarted that Nathaniel had run, leaving Aaron and Edmund to deal with their father. Aaron rebelled. He'd taken to running off every chance he got.

Lord Greystoke was a tyrant. A nobleman with a mean streak a mile wide. Edmund, being next in line, did everything father told him to do. Like a damned puppet.

Yes, sire. Whatever you say, sire.

But Aaron was too much like Nathaniel. Silently, of course. Never aloud, and certainly not to his father. He had more sense. He'd witnessed the punishment Nathaniel had endured, and often when it had been Aaron who was the guilty party.

The smell from the docks flowed along the streets and on to the boarded sidewalks. Aaron loved the smell of the ocean. One day, he hoped to be on a ship instead of just wishing. At least, he was finally getting nearer to his goal. Even if he could not remember his night after the tavern, his trip to Brighton had been a booming success. He'd signed the documents, and now he was part owner in the Anderson Shipping Line.

A door flew open, missing him by inches. Two seagoers staggered out as shouts rumbled from the inside. Aaron stepped to the right, realizing he'd managed to avoid a collision with an already raging fight. A few more spectators wandered out, bellowing encouragement to the man of their choice while clearly making wagers. Any other time, he might join in the fun. But today, he needed answers.

When the way was clear, he stepped into the dimly lit room. With half the occupants outside, there were plenty of empty tables. Through the smoke, he searched those remaining and saw no sign of Blade. However, he recognized a few men he'd conversed with at other times when he had ventured to the London docks.

Slowly, he made his way to a table next to the far wall. A few men looked his way. Seeing nothing of interest, they turned away. A bearded man lifted his mug of ale, and glanced at Aaron over the foam. Aaron held his gaze. Mayhap the man recognized him as well. He nudged the man beside him. When the second man glanced his way, Aaron thought maybe he was not as fierce as he first believed. But then, Aaron was no fool. The men that frequented the taverns along the waterfront could be dangerous. He'd learned that disreputable men lurked everywhere. Aristocrats should not be overlooked, either.

The first man came toward him gradually. Green eyes blazed in the middle of his thickly bearded face. Aaron was glad he'd dressed in old clothing for this occasion.

"Evenin'. Mind if'n I share yer table?"

"Be my guest," Aaron replied.

The man kicked out a chair with his boot, then settled his bulk on the hard wood. "Yer lucky ya didna get caught up in the fisticuffs."

The second man, scooted a chair back and took a seat without saying a word.

"I gave them a wide berth."

"Good idea." He lifted his mug and took a hefty swallow, then wiped the foam from his beard.

A barmaid sashayed over to the table. "Hello, luv. What can I get ya?"

Aaron pointed to the mug of ale. "I'll have one of those."

She turned to the other men at the table. "You done got yers." And she swung her skirts about, heading back to the bar.

"I remember you," the bearded man said, lowering his voice.

"I was hoping you would."

The second man looked up in surprise. "What you doing down here?"

Aaron picked up right away, that these two were not as uneducated as they would have others believe. "Perhaps, I was looking for you."

His eyes got bigger.

"You lookin' for Blade?"

Every nerve in Aaron's body went on alert. He didn't ask Blade who? The fact that this man mentioned Blade and he knew who Aaron was spoke volumes. And he was not about to dicker around when Blade's life could be at stake. "What makes you think that?"

"I seen ya with him," the second man said.

"Basil, here, watches all the coming and goings. He's a good one to have in your camp."

Aaron leaned an elbow on the table. "You have news of Blade?" Realizing he'd given himself away, he cursed under his breath. "How do you know him?"

"He's one of us."

Aaron had no idea what the bloody hell that meant.

"What Basil is trying to tell you is that we can be trusted. We know you're a friend of Blade's."

That was yet to be seen. Or–whatever. "What do you mean he's one of you?"

"I said I remembered you, but evidently you don't remember me. My name is Pauly."

"I remember you, Pauly. You have spoken with me before. Answered a few questions for me."

"I know you're a lord. Even in those clothes, you smell of the upper class." The other man said with a sneer.

"Basil. Just 'cause our friend here is a gent, don't mean he's amiable. I hear tell there's a few bodies left in his trail. You've heard of the Greystoke brothers. What do you think they'll do to Bellingham when they find him?"

Aaron did not remember telling anyone of his status. "I too noticed your accent has changed. That doesn't matter. What news do you have of Blade?"

The tavern door opened and several men came through. Evidently the fight was over. Some grumbled, but all headed for the bar. The barmaid danced between the men, bringing his ale to their table.

"Here ya be, luv."

Aaron flipped a coin in the air, and she quickly caught it in her fingers. "That's for you." She gave him a saucy smile, before heading back to take care of the other customers.

Pauly waited to make sure no one paid attention to them before he spoke.

"There's a bloke named Bone. He and Blade were working together. On what, I don't know. I do know they were together the night a ship blew up in the harbor."

The night Blade set explosives on Bellingham's ship.

"Seadog's ship. He's a bad ‘un." Basil shook his head from side to side.

"Bone is a pal to Basil," Pauly said.

"We go way back. He's a good ‘un. He's the one set," Basil looked over his shoulder, then continued. "He's the one who blew up Seadog's ship."

Good God.

Captain Seadog was Bellingham's lapdog captain. Aaron hoped like hell that these two men were on his side. "How do you know that?"

"He told me."

Well. That was that.

Pauly leveled his gaze on Aaron. "Bone has been in here, and other places, looking for you."

That took Aaron back. Bone? Aaron could not recall ever seeing the man. "Are you sure he was looking for me?"

"Yep," Basil answered. "Said he had to tell you about Blade."

"What about him?"

Pauly spoke up. "Don't know. Wouldn't tell us nothin'. Said he had to talk to you."

"Wouldn't even tell me, and I'm his friend." Basil was clearly offended.

"Do you know where Bone is now?"

"Nay."

That's it? Nay? Aaron wanted to reach across the table and grab Pauly by the throat. He had a feeling if he did, he would not be awake for his next breath.

Bloody hell.

He took a moment to keep his irritation from flourishing into out-and-out rage. He had to know what happened to Blade. Time could be of the essence.

He took a deep breath. "Can you tell me how to find Bone?"

"Nay."

He wanted to shout. "Why the hell not?"

"Ifn' he don't want to be found, he won't be."

"Told us to keep an eye out fer you."

Well, thank you Basil for adding that tidbit. Getting information from these two was like milking a jackass.

"And once you found me, then what?"

"Said he'd be back."

"That's it? He'll be back?"

Both men gave a nod.

Aaron had to take another breath. Then he had to count to ten. He made it to three.

"What the bloody hell am I supposed to do now?" It took everything in him to keep his voice down. Inside, he was wound up like a tight spring.

Anger crossed Pauly's face. Basil didn't look too happy either.

"I apologize for my outburst. I'm worried about Blade. I have been looking for him all week, and I've not found one word on him. Until now. Surely, you must understand my apprehension."

"I know you're a good man. If'n we had more to tell ya, we would."

"Blade's one of us."

Yes, he'd said that. Aaron scrubbed a hand over his face. The least he could do was buy another round for these two. They came to him. Tried to help. And he knew more now than he did before entering the tavern.

Still, the unknown ate at him.

He had no idea if Blade was injured, alive or dead.