Title Sinful Tales of Desirable Ladies

by Lucinda Nelson

  “But it is something you will consider?”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes. I will think about anyone who might bear me such a terrible grudge that they would seek to harm the women in my life. Meanwhile…” He stared at the two of them. “I will hire armed guards to watch this house and neither of you are to leave it.”

  Teresa leaned back against the couch with a long groan. “You cannot mean that. Just as I am seeing the bloody Duke of Thornehill –”

  “Teresa!”

  “– the first man ever to be attracted to me, you go and place guards on me. Thomas, I swear I am going to throttle you in your sleep.”

  Thomas grinned, and sat back in his chair. “Very well, little determined sister. I will permit you out with His Grace, and only His Grace, provided he has an armed escort.”

  “He will not ever agree to an armed escort, Thomas,” Teresa snapped. “He is a Duke. Dukes do not traipse about London with an army.”

  Thomas casually sipped his whiskey with a secretive smile. “This one will.”

  “Are you mad? Have I not proven I can take care of myself? Thomas, please do not do this.”

  “You go out only with Thornehill and an armed escort. End of story. Shall I begin locking you in your room?”

  Teresa put her head in her hands.

  Chapter 14

  Solomon Eli Dunn, the Duke of Thornehill

  Solomon stared at the three of them aligned in front of him, a whirlwind of emotions spinning in his head. “Of course I can hire armed guards,” he said, confused. “Not in my livery, yet following close on foot and on horse. Did she really –”

  “Yes,” Thomas replied with a sidelong glance at Teresa. “Someone evidently wants her dead, but I cannot say for certain her enemy is the same as yours. I know you wish to see her, Your Grace, but I cannot allow –”

  “Say no more, Mr. Wolcott. While I do wish to see your sister, I will not place her in harms way to do so. I will also obey your wishes in this.”

  “I will not sit here like some faint hearted wall flower, afraid of my own shadow,” Miss Wolcott snapped, heated. “If I wish to go out, I will.”

  “Not with me you will not,” Solomon declared. “You will obey your brother.”

  “I have my own money, Your Grace,” Miss Wolcott stated. “I will hire a bodyguard to accompany me.”

  Solomon gazed helplessly at Thomas. “She is determined is she not?”

  Thomas shrugged, glaring at his sister with the same frustration he himself felt. No little guilt filled him at the idea that his troubles with Beaulieu might indeed have put Miss Wolcott in danger. In conducting his illicit affairs with married women, he never once considered the long term effects of them. Now he faced the consequences with a murder behind him and a potential for another ahead.

  “I had come to ask that I accompany you to Whitechapel,” Solomon said to Thomas. “But now I fear I should spend my time recruiting mercenary soldiers to guard your home. No, I will pay for them, as it is my fault your family is in danger.” He glanced at Miss Wolcott and grinned. “I will see to it you have a bodyguard when you and Mrs. Wolcott wish to go out.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Miss Wolcott answered with a smile. “Had you tried to keep me locked up in here, I would escape.”

  “I suspected as much. I will return this evening to make introductions between your new protectors and yourselves.”

  Thomas opened the door for him as the two women curtsied. “I hope to have some answers for you by then, Your Grace.”

  “Excellent.”

  With a tip of his hat to the ladies, Solomon left the Wolcott townhouse and mounted his horse. While he himself did not know where he might recruit soldiers for hire, he knew someone who would. Sir Mallory Jonesboro, a former friend of Solomon’s father, had commanded ships with the Royal Navy, and no doubt still had contacts among the military. He lived in a modest but lavish home near Kensington, across London.

  An aging butler answered his knock, and Solomon presented his calling card. “If Sir Mallory does not mind, I would have a few words with him.”

  The butler bowed. “I will inquire, Your Grace.”

  Sir Mallory did not mind, it appeared, and Solomon was escorted by the butler to the courtyard where Sir Mallory sat with paper and quill pen, writing his memoirs. He stood with a smile as Solomon entered and offered him a bow. “My dear Thornehill,” he said, shaking Solomon’s hand. “It is good to see you after all these years.”

  “You as well, Mallory. How are you?”

  The old knight gestured for Solomon to sit on a bench near him and called for tea to be served. “I am getting old, I fear. But that is to be expected, eh? And you? Settled down finally with a wife and heirs?”

  Solomon shook his head. “Not yet.”

  Sir Mallory’s brown eyes studied him, the sharp intelligence behind them still made Solomon squirm inwardly as they had when he was a boy. “This is no mere social call is it?”

  “I wish it were, old friend. I need your help in locating mercenary soldiers as guards.”

  “Is Beaulieu giving you that much trouble?”

  Solomon stared, his jaw loose. “How did you know?”

  The knight waved his hand, impatient. “I do not get out much, Thornehill, but I do keep tabs on what is going on in the world. I know Beaulieu is pointing the finger at you for the death of his wife, and I also know you would never do such a dreadful thing. You are seeing the sister of London’s best inspector, who is also seeking the murderer of the Baroness.”

  “All that is true,” Solomon answered with a grimace. “I have also inadvertently placed Thomas Wolcott’s family in danger.”

  “Thus the guards.” Sir Mallory nodded thoughtfully. “There is more is there not?”

  “You know me too well, Mallory.”

  “I do. Out with it.”

  With a sigh, Solomon explained how one of his business associates was stealing from him and he had hired Thomas Wolcott to find out who as well as to discover who wanted him killed. “I have been shot at twice now by the same man.” Solomon rubbed his still sore left arm. “The second time, he managed to score a hit. But Miss Wolcott has been attacked twice now by a different perpetrator.”

  Sir Mallory frowned. “That makes little sense to me. You have made enemies, true, but your lady friend? I do not understand.”

  “Nor do I. Hence I must safeguard her and her family until such time as we figure all this out and stop whoever is trying to kill me as well as Miss Wolcott.”

  “Did you challenge Beaulieu to a duel?”

  Solomon grinned. “You heard about that, too?”

  “Of course.” Sir Mallory returned his grin. “I told you, I stay in touch with what is happening. Among the gentlemen of the social circles, wagers are being swapped that you will kill him.”

  “I fear that if I do, we will never truly know if he killed Elize. And I want him to face justice for it.”

  “When the time comes, you will do what is right. When is the duel?”

  “Tomorrow at dawn.”

  Sir Mallory sighed. “Now it would be ungentlemanly of me to place a wager that you will only wound him, given what you told me.”

  “Are you not concerned that he will kill me?”

  “Of course not,” the knight replied with a snort. “You have the keenest eye with a pistol I have ever seen. How I could have used you aboard my ships.”

  “You can place any wager you wish, Mallory,” Solomon said with a small laugh. “For I truly do not know what I will do tomorrow.”

  “I knew Beaulieu once.” Sir Mallory made a face of distaste. “Cowardly man. I know he was pilfering from his own charity. Disgraceful.”

  “He still is. But no one can prove it.”

  Sir Mallory pulled a piece of paper toward him, dipped his quill in ink and began to write. “This is a letter of introduction,” he said as he wrote. “Go to a tavern called the Boar’s Head near Mayfair. Find a man named Jonas Simms. He ser
ved under me once. A good man in spite of being tossed from the Royal Navy for brawling. He will find the men you need.”

  Folding the paper and sealing it with wax and his personal emblem, Sir Mallory handed the letter to Solomon. “Good luck with your endeavors, Thornehill.”

  ***

  Solomon found the Boar’s Head tavern after a stop to ask directions, and tied his horse out front. Though the neighborhood was not exactly respectable, it was not as run down and sleazy as Whitechapel. Slightly concerned that his horse might be stolen while he conducted his business with Mr. Simms, he entered the dim and shadowy common room.

  Several patrons drunk ale or whiskey at the wooden tables, and the place scented of the sawdust on the floor and alcohol. Receiving sharp glances, Solomon ambled to the bar and gestured for the barkeep. The man stepped forward, suspicion in his taut expression, but he offered Solomon a quick, but polite bow. “I am seeking Mr. Jonas Simms.”

  In silence, the barkeep pointed to a table in the far corner where a lone man sat while nursing a tankard. Solomon thanked him, then wended his way among the tables and patrons to Mr. Simms, keeping a wary eye on both the occupants and his horse, easily seen through the windows.

  Jonas Simms glanced up as Solomon approached, but though Solomon was clearly of the upper class, he made no gesture of deference. “Do I know you?” he asked.

  Without invitation, Solomon sat down and pulled the letter of introduction from his breast pocket. “Not yet,” he replied easily, pushing it across to the man.

  Simms glanced at the seal in surprise, then opened the letter. His grey eyes flicked from it to Solomon. “So you are the infamous Devil Duke,” he said, then dipped his chin with a faint smile. “Your Grace.”

  “Sir Mallory informed me you can put together a mercenary group,” Solomon told him, sizing him up.

  Jonas Simms was a fairly big man with a mop of black hair and a few days grown of short beard on his jaws. He looked tough, but not what Solomon would have expected from a former member of the Royal Navy. He nodded. “I might be able to,” he replied. “For what purpose?”

  “Guarding some friends of mine,” Solomon replied easily. “As well as myself at times. What are your skills, Mr. Simms? And those of your, er, companions?”

  “We are all former military, Your Grace, proficient in pistols, rifles, knives as well as swords. You must realize we hire ourselves out as our reputations will not permit us more respectable jobs.”

  “You do good work for me,” Solomon replied, “you will all be paid handsomely. My money will buy your loyalty, I presume?”

  “Naturally. Despite our reputations, we are all honorable men. Sir Mallory would not have recommended us if we were not.”

  “Collect your companions, Mr. Simms,” Solomon told him with a small smile. “Meet me at the Wolcott residence at six o’clock this evening.” Thomas gave him the address. “When your men are needed to ride, I will provide horses. You all have your own arms?”

  “We do.”

  “Excellent. I will see you this evening then.”

  “You will, Your Grace.”

  ***

  Thomas Wolcott had returned from Whitechapel shortly before Solomon himself arrived. Looking harried and weary, Thomas invited him into the drawing room as before, and poured them both brandies. “I have his name, Your Grace,” Thomas said, handing a snifter to Solomon. “Albert Johnson. He is a known criminal wanted for theft, burglary, arson among other crimes. While he is not reputed to have killed anyone, I am told that murder is not something he would turn down if the price was enough.”

  Sipping his brandy, Solomon pondered. “But you were unable to locate him?”

  Thomas sat in an armchair and rubbed his face. “I have a general idea of where he lives, but no, no one has seen him lately.”

  “We might perchance have one of our mercenaries watch that location for us,” Solomon suggested. “If this Albert Johnson returns, our man can capture him.”

  “That might work. How many men will we have at our disposal?”

  “I do not know. They will be here at six o’clock, thirty minutes from now.”

  “Having them will ease my mind, certainly. My sister is adamant about being permitted to go out.”

  “She seems to have gained a great deal of confidence in herself these last few weeks,” Solomon observed.

  “Yes, she has. Of course, her opinions have also grown exponentially.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  Solomon and Thomas both glanced up as Miss Wolcott appeared in the drawing room doorway. She wore a frown, yet her blue eyes glimmered with amusement as she curtsied. “Your Grace.”

  “Miss Wolcott.”

  “Thomas informed me he now knows the name of the man who tried to shoot you,” she went on, entering the room. “Now we can arrest him.”

  “We?” Thomas asked sardonically. “I hope your little triumph is not making you think you can catch this man.”

  Miss Wolcott sat on the edge of the couch, shrouded by her rich dark hair. Her fresh, innocent beauty made Solomon want to stare at her rudely, but he forced himself to smile at her and glance away. From the corner or his eye, he watched her frown deepen, and he wondered if he had just offended her.

  “I was speaking rhetorically,” she stated firmly. “I would have no idea where to find this man.”

  “At least that is one less worry on my mind,” Thomas replied, taking a sip from his brandy. “The notion of you romping off to catch him yourself will no doubt give me nightmares.”

  Miss Wolcott sniffed but did not otherwise reply. Solomon chuckled. “Let us not have a family quarrel here. We can plan our strategies once the men arrive.”

  Escorted by the maid, Jonas Simms entered the drawing room, bowing. “Your Grace, I left my men outside as having them all seen entering might raise unwanted questions.”

  “Good thinking. Mr. Simms these are Mr. and Miss Wolcott. I wish you personally to be her bodyguard and accompany her wherever she goes.”

  Smiling faintly, Mr. Simms bowed in her direction. “I would be delighted to.”

  “How many men did you bring with you?”

  “Eight, Your Grace. All well armed and ready.”

  “Now your men are to blend into the neighborhood in four man teams, split up to watch the entire area, Mr. Simms,” Solomon told him. “They are to watch for any suspicious activity, and I will provide you with descriptions of the men who have attacked both Miss Wolcott and myself.”

  “If we see them, Your Grace, they will not escape us.”

  “There is a small room we can offer you, Mr. Simms,” Thomas added, his tone quiet. “I would appreciate it if you would stay under our roof to better enable you to protect my wife and sister.”

  Solomon observed Miss Wolcott’s expression, and suspected she did not approve of the man staying there, yet she raised no objections. “I may take Miss Wolcott to a party or a ball,” Solomon continued, “then I would have your men follow on horseback while maintaining a discreet distance. I do not wish to warn these men that Miss Wolcott is guarded, for then we may never catch him.”

  “We are quite adept at not being noticed, Your Grace.”

  Solomon pulled an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to the mercenary. “A down payment for your services.”

  Simms opened it and his brows shot up. He bowed. “Your Grace is generous.”

  “As I said before, I need you and your men to be loyal.”

  “And we shall. If there is nothing else, I will go organize my men.”

  Turning, he left the room and Solomon heard the front door open and close. Solomon eyed Miss Wolcott. “I would still suggest you be cautious about where you go, as even a bodyguard cannot protect you from a pistol or rifle. Staying amid crowds might assist in not being shot, if you are able to tolerate it.”

  She smiled wryly. “It appears I am improving. Will you stay to supper, Your Grace?”

  “Thank you, but I must re
turn home. I must put a few affairs in order in the event I am killed in the morning.”

  “You will not be, Your Grace,” Miss Wolcott replied, not at all concerned about the prospect. “Good always conquers evil.”

  Solomon gazed at her with amusement. “While I appreciate your confidence, Miss Wolcott, your reasoning is faulty. Evil can indeed triumph over evil.”

  “Will you not address me as Teresa?” she asked. “Perhaps we know each other well enough to be less formal.”