Title Sinful Tales of Desirable Ladies

by Lucinda Nelson

  Solomon kept the groan of despair behind his teeth with an effort. “No,” he whispered. “No.” He stared at the letter. “This is not my signature.”

  “He stole from you, forging documents with your signature and seal, ordering Crane to import certain goods and send them to your warehouses,” Thomas went on, his voice soft. “From there, without your knowledge, he sold the goods as well as forged your signatures on promissory notes and ordered more from these other countries. All along, Crane worked for him while thinking he worked for you.”

  “I trusted him.”

  “Love is blind,” Thomas commented dryly. “As is friendship.”

  Standing, Solomon paced along the table, his head down, his heart in pieces. “I cannot believe this,” he whispered. “I had so hoped I was wrong.”

  “I wish I was wrong,” Thomas admitted. “I have felt the sting of betrayal from a lady, as you remember. I know the pain you are feeling.”

  At that moment, the door opened and Mrs. Wolcott appeared. Hesitant, as though concerned about her welcome, she stepped through. Solomon raised a tight smile for her.

  “Come in, Mrs. Wolcott,” he said, gesturing for Jarvis to seat her. “How is Teresa?”

  She sat down beside Thomas with a hesitant smile. “Better, Your Grace,” she said, shy. “She put ointment on her burns, and let me examine her.”

  Solomon forced himself to sit, his gut churning. “And?”

  “They are not too bad, in my opinion. She will recover quickly. I gave her laudanum from your stores, so she will sleep for a while.”

  Solomon glanced aside. “And her emotional state?”

  “Feeling the shock of nearly dying would upset anyone, Your Grace,” Mrs. Wolcott replied. “She will be fine quite soon.”

  “Excellent,” Solomon answered, feeling relief course through him. “She is a very tough young lady.” Mrs. Wolcott smiled. “Tougher than you know.”

  Chapter 20

  Solomon Eli Dunn, the Duke of Thornehill

  With Thomas riding beside him and Anson Walters behind as a guard, Solomon reined his stallion in at the warehouse where Aldric had fallen through the floor the previous day.

  His mind torn between worrying about Teresa, asleep in one of his guest rooms, and the knowledge that Aldric was the one stealing from him, he dismounted and tied his horse to the ring.

  Thomas and Mr. Walters followed suit, and entered the warehouse with him.

  The rope still lay where he had left it, and he walked gingerly toward the gap in the floorboards.

  He stopped when the wood creaked and shifted under him. He glanced at Thomas. “How can we determine if this was a set trap?”

  Thomas indicated the lantern he had brought with him. “I plan to lower this into the hole and have a look.”

  He lit it, then tied the rope to the handle. On his belly to spread his weight across the weakened floor, he eased the light down into the gap. Imitating him, Solomon lay flat and gazed down.

  Below, the broken boards Aldric took down with him when he fell lay on the dank earth below. “I cannot tell,” he muttered, peering into the gloom.

  “The beam supporting the floor was cut,” Thomas said, pointing not to the broken wood, but under the floor itself. “See there?”

  Forced to creep closer to the edge and put his head inside, Solomon saw what Thomas did. “I do. That looks like the remains of the support over there just outside the light.”

  “It certainly does,” Thomas agreed. “So now we know this was meant to snare you. You had put about that you would be alone, and had you been alone this might have worked. You might not have been found for days, if at all.”

  “Provided I was not knocked unconscious,” Solomon replied, “I would have been heard if I yelled loudly enough.”

  Rolling away from the edge as Thomas pulled the lantern back up, Solomon stood, then edged his way to safer territory. Joining him, Thomas blew the flame out, and eyed him wryly. “I never said this was a perfect trap. It might have worked under the right circumstances.”

  “True enough. Nor would there be any witnesses around to see who might have been in here, cutting the beam.”

  “No, not likely. Have you seen enough?”

  Solomon nodded. “I have. Let us go see your house. Or what is left of it.”

  Blackened bricks indicated where the flames had licked them, and the charred front door hung open.

  Trailing Thomas as he walked inside, Solomon gazed around at the devastation, his boots crunching on broken glass and shattered wood.

  Very little remained of the lower floor save the skeletons of furniture, bits of carpeting, soot covered statues while burned picture frames still hung on the walls.

  Catching a glimpse of Thomas’s tense expression, Solomon sensed his rage at the ruin of what had been his home. “We will catch who did this,” he said, his voice low, hard.

  Thomas nodded without speaking, then went up the stairs. Following, Solomon discovered the rooms on the second floor had been badly damaged, but much of the third floor remained intact. “My wife will be pleased that most of her possessions did not burn,” Thomas commented, picking up a jewelry box. “My sister, too.”

  “We should pack everything salvageable up and take to my home for safekeeping. We do not want thieves taking what is left.”

  “I have a small carriage and a horse in the stable behind the house. I will bring it around to the front.”

  After hiring workmen to pack all the belongings that remained to them, and take them to the mansion, the three of them headed out into the street.

  Traffic had grown heavy, and they traveled across London with a myriad of other riders, carriages and heavy wagons hauling freight.

  “Are you going to confront Lord Oakshire?” Thomas asked him.

  “While I want to wring his neck,” Solomon replied, guiding his horse around a slower trundling wagon, “I cannot honorably say anything until he is healed.”

  “He did not behave with honor by stealing from you.”

  “But I still must behave so. In addition, I want to think about all this. Something seems off about the whole thing.”

  “Such as?”

  “Why did Edward not question the Royal Mail mark from Oakshire?” Solomon asked, his brow hiked.

  “He may not have noticed.”

  “And why did you not find others, Thomas? You discovered only the one forgery. This has been going on for a long time, and there should be many such letters.”

  Thomas frowned. “You are right. Everything else appeared legitimate, truly from you.”

  “I feel there are still many questions around this,” Solomon continued. “I would like it if you will still investigate warehouses where the goods he purchased had been stored. If the person renting it matches Aldric’s description, then we know for certain.”

  “I will.”

  “I think I will conduct my own search of Edward’s office,” Solomon said thoughtfully. “There may be things that I can recognize as being fraudulent whereas you might not.”

  “Do you wish me to accompany you?”

  “No, I will go alone. Tonight.”

  ***

  Miss Teresa Wolcott

  Groggy, her head spinning, Teresa woke to a pounding headache as well as the agony of her burns. Muttering words under her breath that she was not supposed to know, she rolled her head on the pillow, seeking some relief. She did not find any, and her closed eyes registered a small light emanating from a lamp nearby.

  “Do you even know what those words mean?” a voice asked.

  Teresa snapped her eyes open. “Oh, no.” She groaned.

  “I truly do not mind a woman cursing,” Solomon commented from her side. “I actually think it quite attractive. It tells me a woman has a brain and often uses it.”

  Rolling her head to her right, Teresa saw Solomon sitting in a chair beside her bed, grinning as though he had just made a huge joke. In a far corner sat Elsa, sewing with her
eyes on her work with a small lamp beside her. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her tongue thick and numb.

  “Watching you sleep. Or, rather, watching you wake. I like both.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  He shrugged. “It is my house. My guest room. I simply asked your brother if I might sit beside you, all innocent of course, until you woke up. Naturally, he said yes, with a chaperone.”

  Making sure she was decently covered, Teresa shifted painfully to face him. “If you are not too busy talking, can I have some water?”

  Solomon’s eyes went round in the light of the lamp. “Now why did I not think of that?”

  Rising, he went to the sideboard and poured water from a pewter pitcher into a glass and brought it back. He held it to her lips, as her burns made it difficult to lift her arms without pain, and she drank deeply, the cool, refreshing water soothing her dry and sore throat. “More, please?”

  “What a demanding female you are.”

  Solomon filled the glass again, and helped her drink until she felt satisfied.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “You are most welcome.”

  Solomon leaned over her, his arm resting behind her as he smiled into her eyes. “You are one frightening woman, Teresa,” he said softly, brushing a tendril of hair from her cheek. “You scare me silly.”

  “I?” Teresa tried to scoff. “How can I frighten a fearsome Duke?”

  “By making me think I will lose you. Please stop that. I fear for my heart.”

  Though it hurt terribly, Teresa chuckled. “I do not believe that for an instant.”

  “Believe it. You have succeeded in roping me to you. Now, here you are, injured because of me, and my guilt swamps me, and you look at me from your bed, in pain –”

  Laughing, hurting, Teresa gasped. “Stop, Sol. It hurts.”

  Solomon grinned down into her eyes. “Tit for tat. You scare me, I make you laugh. So stop scaring me, and I will cease making you laugh.”

  “You bloody rogue.”

  His mouth dropped in feigned shock. “I cannot believe my ears. She cursed.”

  “Put it in the scandal sheets.”

  “Do not think I will not.”

  His smile fading, Solomon leaned closer, his face close to hers. “It is so good to see you smile again. You came back to me. And that makes me very glad.”

  Teresa gazed into his eyes. “It does not – bother you – that they touched me?”

  Solomon leaned closer, his green eyes burning. “Had they assaulted you, they would be dead now. Had they cornered and groped you, they would be dead by the harshest means possible. They saved your life in touching you, and for that, they have my gratitude.”

  “Then why do I feel such shame?”

  “While you should not,” Solomon answered, his tone gentle, “it may seem wrong that strangers put their hands on you. What they did held no personal intent, no desire to do harm.”

  “In my mind,” Teresa went on, “I understand that. Emotionally, however, I cannot come to terms with it.”

  “You will. You are a strong woman, and will overcome this.”

  Teresa smiled slightly. “You seem so sure.”

  “It is because I am.”

  Teresa, her wounds paining her terribly, said, “I do not feel very strong. I need Elsa to help me put more salve on. Then might I have another dose of laudanum?”

  “Mrs. Wolcott prepared it for you,” Solomon said, indicating a cup on a table nearby. “There is also food right here, and Mrs. Wolcott insists you eat before you sleep again.”

  “I am not very hungry, but I will try.”

  Solomon smiled. “I will take my leave of you. May I come see you in the morning?”

  “I will be disappointed if you do not.”

  Rising, Solomon pressed a brief kiss to her brow, then strode from the room and closed the door quietly behind him. Teresa beckoned to Elsa, who pulled the sheet away from her body and helped her gently dab the soothing balm on her burns. “I want to thank you for saving me,” Elsa said, her voice almost inaudible. “I would not have woken in time.”

  “You are welcome. I am glad you made it out unharmed.”

  “You are very brave, Miss Wolcott.”

  After pulling the sheet back over herself, Teresa ate some of the cold roast and bread with cheese and a hard boiled egg. Taking the mostly empty tray from her, Elsa brought her the laudanum, and watched her drink it down. “I will sit with you tonight, if you want me to,” Elsa told her, sitting in the chair Solomon had vacated.

  “That would be very nice, Elsa. Thank you.”

  ***

  Solomon Eli Dunn, the Duke of Thornehill

  Wearing drab workmen’s clothes and riding the ugliest horse he owned, in order to not draw much attention to himself, Solomon made his way toward Edward’s home and office. The hour was quite late, and only the lit street lamps gave much illumination.

  The quiet, empty streets held only the sound of his horse’s hooves trotting along the cobbles. While he knew the Bow Street Runners often patrolled the city at night, he saw nothing of them.

  Dismounting his horse a few blocks from Edward’s home, he tied the beast to the ring on the post, and then walked the remainder of the way. Hesitating in the shadows outside Edward’s house, he studied it for long moments, listening for any signs that his business partner might still be awake. He saw no light, no movement. Leaving the house, he crossed the alley to the office.

  The door was naturally locked, but Solomon knew where Edward kept a key. Fetching it, he eased the door open and slipped inside. Lighting a lamp, he quickly lowered the flame until only a tiny light gave him something to see by.

  He drew the curtains over the windows to prevent as little light as possible from showing outside. Sitting at Edward’s desk, he started looking through the letters, receipts, invoices and notes.

  “No more Royal Mail marks from Oakshire,” he muttered under his breath, not certain if that was a good thing or not.

  Finding nothing that should not be there, Solomon turned to the drawers and opened them. Inside the first, he discovered a bottle of whiskey, a tumbler, jars of ink and quill pens, and a knife to sharpen them. In the next, he found stacks of opened envelopes, letters that appeared to have been written by a feminine hand. Curious, Solomon started to reach for them.

  The door burst open, a bright light all but blinded him.

  Edward, a blunderbuss in his right hand, a lamp in his left, glared at him as he lifted the rifle to aim at Solomon’s face.

  Chapter 21

  Solomon Eli Dunn, the Duke of Thornehill

  “Put the rifle down, Edward.”

  “Sol, what in the devil are you doing in here?”

  His heart racing, his stomach in a knot, Solomon leaned back in the chair and feigned a calm he did not feel. “Searching your office. Is it not obvious?”

  Lowering the blunderbuss, his expression tight with anger, Edward stepped closer and set the lamp on the desk. “Might I ask why you chose to do so in the middle of the night? Had you but asked, I would have stepped aside and given you instant access.”

  “And give you time to hide the evidence that you have been stealing from me? That hardly seems the intelligent choice.”

  Something flickered in Edward’s eyes and his mouth tightened for a brief instant before astonishment crossed his features and his eyes widened. “You – you think I have been stealing from you?” he asked. “How can you possibly believe that of me?”

  “Someone is,” Solomon replied. “As I cannot expect to be told the truth if I had asked, I must resort to subterfuge in order to learn who the culprit is.”

  Not liking that Edward still held the rifle in his hands, even if it was not aimed at him, Solomon stood up. He had learned his lesson and come armed with a pistol, however, Edward had only to lift the barrel and pull the trigger, and at that range, Edward could hardly miss.

  “Sol,” Edward said, his
voice filled with sorrow. “I would not, ever, steal from you. You gave me a chance, and because of your generosity I have been lifted from the poverty my parents knew.”

  Solomon curved his lips up in a smile that held little warmth. “Perhaps you wanted more, to hide money away. Greed can make a man commit some serious errors.”

  Edward glanced away from him. “I can see where your suspicions are taking you. Though I am innocent of this, I can only say that time will prove it to you. I am loyal, Sol, and am content with what little I have earned.”