“It could also be anyone in the House of Lords whom I opposed.”
“None of the issues you opposed were worth killing you over. This is personal.”
Solomon drew a deep breath and straightened. “It might also be either Aldric or Edward, whichever one is stealing from me.”
Percy shook his head with a slight frown. “Then they risk the Bank freezing all your assets until your rightful heir can be determined. Your heir may not continue to do business with them, either, thus cutting them out. They would not want the money flow to end.”
“Then we are back to a husband I cuckolded. Too many to count.”
“Not really. How many even know of your adventures?”
Solomon laughed without humor. “I have to guess all of them.”
“However, among them all, how many have the gall to attempt the murder of a Duke? You have too much power and influence at court and in Parliament to risk killing you. In my opinion, the risk of being caught outweighs the humiliation.”
His smile fading, Solomon took another drink from his cup. “That leaves only Beaulieu. How can we prove it?”
“Catch the assassin who tried today,” Percy suggested. “Get him to talk.”
“For that, I need the best investigator money can buy. And he believes me to be evil incarnate.”
Chapter 7
Miss Teresa Wolcott
“Another letter for you, Miss Wolcott.”
Teresa reached eagerly for it, taking it from Elsa’s hand without actually grabbing from her hand.
Since the ride in Hyde Park five days ago, The Duke of Thornehill had written her a missive each day, delivered by one of his liveried footmen. Each one had expressed a desire to see her again, yet he did not suggest a means to do so.
“This is not from His Grace,” she said, frowning down at it.
Amelia, pale and wan from morning sickness, sat across the breakfast table from her and asked, “Who is it from then?”
“Dame Rotterdam,” Teresa replied, opening the thick envelope. “She was a dear friend of my mother’s. She is inviting me to a party.”
“I fear I cannot be your chaperone, sweetheart.” Amelia tried to smile. “I will not feel well enough for it.”
“I know, Amelia,” Teresa replied, reaching across the table to lightly touch her hand. “You must think of the baby first.”
“Perhaps Thomas will escort you,” Amelia went on. “I will be poor company for him while I am in this state.”
“I can find someone else. He should be with you.”
“No, Thomas must attend with you. I will be fine.”
Thus, feeling relaxed from a deep back, neck and shoulder rub from Amelia, Teresa, escorted by Thomas, went to Dame Rotterdam’s party with few qualms or reservations.
Under his approving eye, she spoke calmly with young men, laughed at their jokes and practiced her deep breathing when the tightness in her chest crept up on her. It went away, yet still hovered in the background.
“See what I mean?” Thomas said to her as they stood near the wall, sipping from their glasses of wine as the Grand Dame herself circled amid her guests with a grave smile. “Those gentlemen are impressed with you.”
Teresa eyed the trio of young handsome men, none of whom ranked less than a Baron, talking and laughing together even as they glanced at her sidelong. “Are you so sure they are not laughing at me?”
“Quite sure. I will wager one of them will ask you to dance.”
Sure enough, Dame Rotterdam’s grandson, Boyle Cartwright, did cross the floor to them as the music started up once again. He bowed with a sweet smile. “May I have the honor of a dance, Miss Wolcott?”
Shy, Teresa agreed with a smile. “Yes, I would love to dance.”
While he was not quite the accomplished dancer the Duke was, Teresa still found him light on his feet and respectful as well as friendly. “I do not recall seeing you ever dance before,” he commented. “In fact, I hardly ever see you making conversation with anyone. This is the first time I have had an opportunity to talk to you.”
Teresa flushed. “Well, I have a condition that makes me anxious at parties. I am working on eliminating it.”
Boyle Cartwright stared at her, slowing his dance steps. “A – condition?”
She recognized the alarm in his expression. “It is not contagious,” she snapped. “I get anxious when people are too close and then anxiety sets in.”
Even as she spoke, she felt her chest tighten, her throat closed her breath off. Trying to draw in deep gulps to calm herself, she discovered the trick was not working. Her hands in his, she found them growing sweaty and her head spun sickeningly.
“Uh, I will escort you back to your brother.”
Mid dance, Mr. Cartwright dropped her hands and quickly strode toward Thomas, watching them from across the ball room. To avoid further embarrassment, Teresa followed, knowing how the eyes of those not dancing stared hard at her.
Feeling it, realizing that yet again she was the topic of their whispers, their condemnation. And her breath closed off completely.
Striding past Thomas and a clearly upset Mr. Cartwright, who no doubt feared that he would be subject to the whispers, Teresa hurried through the doors, opened by a pair of considerate footmen.
Ignoring Thomas’s calls for her to wait, she rushed into a nearby guestroom and shut the door quickly.
“Teresa?”
She did not have the breath to beg him to leave her alone. Leaning against the door, she closed her eyes and focused on trying to get any air at all into her lungs. Desperately wishing The Duke was there to massage the tension from her, she rubbed the back of her neck with her hands.
At last, the tension eased a fraction and her breath came and went raggedly.
“Teresa?” This time Thomas knocked.
“I’m fine,” she gasped. “Please leave me alone.”
“I will be close by,” he called through the wood.
Little by little, the fist gripping her chest loosened its hold and the dizziness passed. Breathing in and out deeply, she calmed at last. Wiping her damp palms on her gown, she felt able to return to the ball room, and apologize to her hostess.
Opening the door, Teresa hesitated when she heard voices speaking close by and the sound of her name.
Putting her ear to the crack, she listened intently, recognizing Thomas’s voice as well as that of the Duke of Thornehill. “Teresa had another attack, Your Grace. But she will be fine in a few moments.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” His Grace replied. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No, I fear I will not permit you to touch her again.”
Silence fell between them, and Teresa feared she had been discovered eavesdropping. She was about to open the door further and walk out when the Duke spoke again. “I have been intending to talk with you about this for a long time, Mr. Wolcott. I wish to inform you that your hatred of me is unfounded.”
Teresa froze. His Grace did not commit an offense against Thomas after all?
“No, it is not unfounded,” Thomas shot back. “It is quite justified.”
“I did not cuckold you.”
“You are a liar,” Thomas hissed. “You took the woman I loved away from me.”
Not daring to breathe, Teresa listened, her heart pounding. She remembered Thomas had fallen in love with a Miss Suzanne Chalmers several years ago, long before he met Amelia. Teresa herself was about eighteen, and her parents would not tell her why Miss Chalmers refused Thomas’s marriage proposal.
Grief-stricken, Thomas locked himself in his room for several days, and when he came out, he was a changed man.
“Miss Chalmers wanted a title,” His Grace said, his tone harsh. “She tried to gain mine, but I would not have it. She did not attract me in any way, I did not desire her. You should know by now, sir, I prefer married women who have titles of their own.”
Teresa heard footsteps as Thomas paced, his shadow crossing the slightly open
door. “The talk was of nothing else save how you seduced her,” Thomas growled. “She herself said so when she told me she would not marry me.”
“She lied to exact her revenge, Mr. Wolcott. Think back to that time. I was hardly in London during that Season if you recall. I returned to my house to find a letter from her, asking me to meet privately.
Being the uncouth and insensitive boor that I am, I wrote back my refusal in no uncertain terms. I had received many more such from her as well as her active pursuit of me at balls before I left for my estates in the north.”
Thomas remained silent for a while. When he spoke, his voice sounded subdued. “She married the Earl of Mowbray’s son.”
“A man with few scruples and passed those traits onto his offspring. Your sister is the first single woman I have ever been interested in, Mr. Wolcott. Miss Chalmers was not just single, she abhorred me in her vicious and relentless pursuit of my title.”
“Then why was she with me?” Thomas’s voice rose and Teresa heard the pain in it from all those years ago. “Why would she tell me she loved me?”
“I cannot answer that,” the Duke replied. “Perhaps she still hoped to marry into your wealth if she could not gain wealth and a title both.”
“That’s cynical.”
“It is my opinion.”
Once again, the two fell silent. Teresa almost opened the door again, but the Duke’s words stopped her. “I would like for you to think it over, Mr. Wolcott, and understand I did nothing to break up your relationship with Miss Chalmers. You would also do me a great favor by considering helping me with some criminal matters.”
“Find out who is trying to kill you?” Thomas sounded bitter. “Teresa asked me on your behalf.”
“Did she? She is a very generous lady.”
“She likes you, though I cannot imagine why. You are still a scoundrel.”
“I will not apologize for my affairs. I am completely honorable in my business dealings, in Parliament and in how I choose to run my life. Yes, I am scandalous, I freely admit it. The ladies I see privately wish me to be with them, and I never force myself on them. I understand this is not up to society’s standards of conduct, nor do I care.”
“You are certainly blunt.”
“I do not view that as a fault.”
Thomas laughed, still bitter. “In some places it is, but with me it is refreshing. I will consider your request. Meanwhile, I must attend to my sister.”
“Then I will see you both inside the ball room.”
Teresa silently eased the door closed, grimacing, fearing Thomas and the Duke will know she had listened to them talking.
Still shocked over what she had learned about Thomas’s former love, she busied herself making sure her gown and hair were correct. Thomas rapped on the door.
“Teresa?”
Drawing a deep breath, Teresa opened it. “I am sorry, Thomas,” she said, not sure if she was apologizing for her fit of anxiety or for his broken heart. He smiled, but it seemed forced to her. “Are you ready to go back to the party?” he asked, taking her by the hand.
“Yes, I think so.”
Letting him guide her back down the hall, the footmen opening the doors for them, she walked back inside the vaulted ball room. Not much had changed during their absence, as the dancers continued to dance, the rumor mongers continued their gossip. Across the room, she caught sight of the Duke, and her heart rose. He was talking to someone out of her sight, but was smiling. “I am going to go talk to him,” she told Thomas.
He nodded. “Very well. I will watch from here.”
Striding across the big room, dodging small groups of milling guests, Teresa ignored their stares and their eyes on her back. Drawing closer to His Grace, she slowed down, her heart faltering. His laughing, happy expression held more emotion than she had ever seen in him before. He smiled widely, his green eyes almost glowing as he leaned forward to listen to whatever was being said to him. Teresa knew that look, that kind of happy, delighted smile. She had seen it on the miens of others when they spoke to that certain, very special someone. The Duke wore it now, and Teresa stepped around, out of his direct line of sight to see to whom he appeared to be in love with.
Her heart sank the instant she recognized the other woman. The wealthy, incredibly beautiful actress, the very one whom people say men went mad for upon a single look into her eyes. The lady whose attractiveness made Teresa feel as though she were an ugly harridan.
Miss Rebecca Calhoun.
Chapter 8
Solomon Eli Dunn, the Duke of Thornehill
“It is good to see you again,” Solomon commented, grinning broadly at his old friend. “How long has it been?”
“Too long, Sol,” Rebecca replied, pressing her hand briefly on his arm, hidden, however, where no one might see the intimate gesture. “I was very nearly trapped into a marriage.”
“You?” Solomon scoffed, amused. “Married?”
“I know. That is what it was, an ‘almost’ situation.” She smiled, delighted, to see him, it seemed. “It was to a French Marquis, a dreadful man, simply dreadful.”
“Then how did the relationship even become close to marriage?”
“He offered me a chateau in the French Alps, that’s how. He knew what bait to use, Sol. I very nearly took it, thinking it might be worth it be married to him if it meant having my own chateau in the mountains.”
“Rebecca, darling, I will buy you a chateau in the French Alps and you do not even need to marry me.”
Rebecca laughed. “You are such a dear, Sol. However, in the last few years since we met, I have amassed my own fortune. I can buy my own, should I wish to.”
“When you buy it, I will expect an invitation for a visit.”
Rebecca’s smile faded. “Since my return from France, and dodging bullets from that dreadful war, I have heard nothing about you save scandal. My dear Sol, what have you been doing?”
Solomon shunted his eyes from hers, in spite of how much he liked looking into their incredible beauty. “Tongues wag, Rebecca, you know that. I take my pleasures and scandalize people.”
“Sol, you truly need to find a nice heiress and settle down. Take my advice here, please. The rumors will cease, will find other targets, and your scandals will be forgotten. You have sown your oats my friend, now marry and start raising little green eyed Dukes.”
Solomon shook his head with a small smile. “That is excellent advice, my dear. However, I cannot take it at this time.”
“Do you even have a potential wife in mind? At least say yes to that.”
Thinking of Teresa, Solomon’s smile widened.
Rebecca laughed. “So you do have a lady in mind. Sol, I could not be more pleased. You are a good man and deserve love and happiness. Do I know this lucky future Duchess of Thornehill?”
“No. She has money but no title. A very sweet, outspoken and intelligent woman. A bluestocking.”
Rebecca clapped her hands. “She reminds me of me. You remember how I scandalized society by speaking my mind? Then I went on to scandalize them further by becoming an actress.”
“Actually, there is no scandal attached to your name, Rebecca,” Solomon told her. “You are quite well respected among the higher echelon.”
“Really?” Rebecca grinned, toying with a ringlet of her red-gold hair. “How extraordinary. I thought my name would be so tarnished by now I could never see my reflection.”
Solomon laughed. “Had we not been such good friends, I might have married you myself.”
“Why ruin a good friendship by getting married? That is the primary reason I would never join you in bed. I treasured you more than I treasured your attractiveness. ”
Solomon bowed to her, laughing. “I am so flattered, Rebecca. So what are your plans now?”
“After I circulate the room out there and have a glass of wine, I plan to return to my hotel. Alone, Sol. I have no further need of wealthy men to accommodate me, and no desire to find a husband. As i
t is not safe to travel in France, I may simply travel the lovely English countryside for a time.”
“If you wish, I will have my coachman and coach available to you.”
Rebecca lightly tapped his arm again. “No, I would not deprive you of your servants, Sol. I will hire a landau and take my time to travel and enjoy myself.”
“I will send a letter ahead,” Solomon suggested, “you may stay at my estate in Lancashire if you wish.”
Title Sinful Tales of Desirable Ladies Page 35
