The man held out his hand. “I might just be that man, Mr.-”
Marc clapped his hand around the stranger’s. “My name is Ramaro, and this is my lovely companion, Thorn.”
I choked on my spittle before I whipped my head up to his smiling face. His eyes twinkled with mischief, but also gave me a look of warning.
“I haven’t heard your name before, Mr. Ramaro.”
“And I haven’t heard your name at all, sir.”
“Chapman. Jonathan Chapman.”
Marc’s wimpy eyebrows shot up. “Not of the Chapman trading company.”
The man smiled and inclined his head. “The one and only, good sir.”
“You are most famous in my circles, Mr. Chapman,” Marc informed him.
I rolled my eyes. I could only imagine why a merchant would be famous in a circle of pirates.
Chapman perked up at the compliment. “I’m glad to hear it, Mr. Ramaro. Perhaps we can speak about our respective companies inside.”
Marc leaned to one side and looked past the man to the door. “I very much doubt we’ll get in. I may have a lively route, but I don’t tend to frequent these parties. I’m only here because lovely Thorn wanted to meet other people.”
I slapped a smile on my face and bobbed my head. “T-that’s right. It’s really exciting to see all these people. They must all be very important to be here.”
Chapman puffed out his ample chest. “I should say so. Lady Worthington doesn’t allow just anybody into her parties.”
“Unfortunately, our names aren’t on the list,” Marc warned him with an exaggerated sigh. “Whelan will undoubtedly turn us away.”
Chapman clapped him on the back, and Marc played the part perfectly by stumbling a few steps. “Nonsense! You’re my guests, and I won’t allow you to remain here on the street!”
Marc bowed his head. “That is most kind of you, Mr. Chapman. If there’s some way I can repay you, don’t hesitate to ask.”
The merchant grinned from ear to ear. “You needn’t worry on that account, Mr. Ramaro. I intend to do just that.”
The line moved, and we soon found ourselves before the imperious Whelan. The servant turned his nose up at me, especially. “Good evening. What are your names, please?”
“Our names won’t be on the list,” Marc admitted.
Whelan’s gaze fell on me, and his nostrils flared again. “Ah, yes. That would explain the woman with the distinct scent of fear.”
I shrank beneath the moniker and sheepishly smiled at him. “I guess that’s me.”
“They’re with me, Whelan,” Chapman spoke up as he lifted his chin even higher than the imperious servant. “I will vouch for their behavior.”
“Very well, Mr. Chapman,” Whelan confirmed as he studied his list. He wrote a few notes before he stepped to the side. “Have a pleasant evening.”
We slipped past the servant and into the grand entranceway of Worthington Manor. A huge chandelier hung over our heads, and its light sparkled off the countless gemstone necklaces, rings, earrings, and bracelets. There was enough jewelry to start a whole chain of stores. Silk dresses matched silk suits, and I suddenly felt woefully underdressed.
“Mr. Ramaro.” Chapman’s eager voice turned us toward the merchant. He gestured to the west wing. “I have a few business associates with whom I am to meet this evening. Would you like to join me?”
“We’d love to,” Marc accepted as he looped his arm through mine.
“I’m afraid this is a rather private affair,” Chapman warned us as he pursed his lips. “Perhaps your friend can entertain herself while we discuss business matters. Otherwise, I might begin to think that you used me to get into the party.”
Marc dropped his gaze to me. I smiled and shrugged. What could he do? The man would snitch on us if he didn’t agree to a little tete-a-tete. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. There are a lot of people and lights in here.”
Marc squeezed my hand. “Call if you need help.”
