“There you are, Captain!” Mother said, breaking the awkward silence as she bustled forward.

He took her hand and bowed over it. “Indeed. I was just enjoying a glass of port in the library when I heard that you had guests.”

“Indeed. This is Mr. Gower, whom I believe you’ve met. And this is Mr. Picknard and Mr. Silverstone. They’re from the bank.”

Harriet noticed that even Mr. Silverstone stood a little straighter when Chase nodded briefly in his direction.

“Gentlemen,” Chase said in a bored tone. He looked back at Mrs. Ward and offered a glinting smile. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

She laughed nervously. “Of course not! We’re always glad to have you with us, Captain.”

“Indeed,” said Sophia, casting a sly glance at the bankers. “I don’t believe we will be detained much longer now that you’ve arrived.”

Mr. Gower stepped forward, his gaze on Chase, a superior smile curving his wide mouth. “I would greet you, as well, but you are not who you say you are. There is no Captain Frakenham.”

Harriet held her breath, but Chase merely lifted his brows. “What do you mean by that?”

Mr. Gower’s superior attitude thickened. “I did some research. There is no record of a Captain Frakenham or of a ship coming to port in Whitby. None.”

Every eye turned to Chase. He shrugged. “No?”

“No.”

“What exactly are you suggesting, Mr. Gower? That I am an apparition?” Chase held out his hands. “Do I look like an apparition?”

Silverstone cleared his throat. “Mr. Gower, perhaps there is a better way to—”

“Who are you?” Gower said, his sharp gaze on Chase. “Tell us now.”

Chase laughed softly, genuine amusement in his voice.

Harriet relaxed at the sound. He wasn’t the least intimidated and she took comfort in that fact.

Gower scowled. “Damn it, sir! This is not a cause for levity. You are not who you say you are.”

“No?”

“No.”

Chase tilted his head to one side, a smile still warm on his lips. “Perhaps I should ask you the same question—who are you?”

“I am a banker, sir. My credentials are impeccable.”

“And I am a sea captain. Until proven otherwise.”

Triumph flickered across Gower’s face. “It has been proven otherwise.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two folded sheets of paper. He held out the first one. “I wrote to the harbormaster at Whitby. He has never heard of your ship, nor you.”

Chase took the paper and scanned it. “Harbormaster? By the name of Crenlin? You’ve been fooled, Mr. Gower. The harbormaster at Whitby is a Mr. Johnston.”

“That cannot be.”

“I hope you didn’t pay this man for his information.” Chase fixed his gaze on Gower’s face. “Did you?”

Silverstone and Picknard waited. Gower turned deep red. “I only gave the man two shillings to pay for post—”

“Tsk. Tsk. I fear you’ve been taken for a fool, Mr. Gower. I daresay this man is a resident of one of the pubs along the waterfront and takes great pleasure in thieving from men making inquiries.” Chase shook his head. “Just look at the poor spelling in this missive.”