Title Sinful Tales of Desirable Ladies

by Lucinda Nelson

  “Yes. You did. Your idea is right, but that is not something one can ask the dear Countess.”

  “Still, we know we are on the proper trail,” Teresa went on. “Beaulieu murdered his wife, and Mr. Simms will help us prove it.”

  “That is how we will get him on the gallows.”

  Dancing on in silence for a time, Teresa finally asked, “Perhaps we can find a way to prove Beaulieu is trying to kill you. Then once that is out, other people will come forward.”

  “For that, we must capture Albert Johnson. Finding one black haired man in London will be like finding one tree in a forest the size of England.”

  Teresa gazed up at him. “So set yourself up as bait.”

  Solomon stumbled, then caught himself. Teresa watched as his green eyes went blank for long moments as he thought about what she said. “Miss Wolcott,” he said thoughtfully. “You just might be a genius.”

  “Hardly,” she snorted. “It just makes sense.”

  “Yes, it does. However, one issue puzzles me. With Beaulieu badly injured, is Johnson still trying to kill me? Without direction, he may be floundering like a rudderless ship in a gale.”

  “One way to answer both questions at once. Find a discreet way of letting people know you will be alone at a certain time and place, and if he shows up, you arrest him. If he does not, then he is floundering.”

  Solomon smiled as he gazed at her. “You are a marvel. I should have thought of that.”

  “But you did not. Perhaps because you are too close to the problem. Sometimes you just need perspective.”

  “And you gave me that. Thank you.”

  Teresa smirked. “No trouble at all.”

  Chapter 17

  Solomon Eli Dunn, the Duke of Thornehill

  Edward stared at him. “You want to what?”

  “Purchase another warehouse on the waterfront. I heard rumors of a few that are for sale.”

  “Sol, but why? We have three warehouses already.”

  Solomon nodded patiently. “Yes. But by adding a fourth, we can bring in more cargo, import more.”

  “I understand that, and it makes sense. But I do not have the capital for my half. I wish I did, but I cannot help. Please, drop this notion.

  We are doing well the way we are, and making decent profits. You add more to my workload, and, well, I cannot keep up with it all.”

  “Are you afraid of letting me down?”

  Edward glanced away. “Quite honestly, yes. If you want to add more work, then, Sol, I fear I will have to have you help me.”

  Solomon grinned. “Is that all? You accuse me of playing while you work?”

  “No, well, yes. I just am one man. I truly appreciate this opportunity, I truly do. You have treated me well all these years. But I need a bit more from you if you want to add more imports.”

  “How about I hire someone? An assistant?”

  Edward stared down. “Then that eats into my profits. That is why I work so hard, to avoid sharing.”

  Solomon nodded. “I will take all this into consideration. I will, however, still need to look at a few warehouses. Tell me what you think. They are about three blocks up from the Bridge.”

  “I think I know which ones you are talking about,” Edward said slowly. “In need of paint, a bit dilapidated, one has a dock quite far out from the shore?”

  “Those exactly.”

  “They will serve,” Edward replied, sitting back in his chair. “All are close to primary boulevards, all have access for wagons, and all are priced reasonably. I would recommend the one with the dock, as it is situated close to our others.”

  “That was one reason I was considering them.”

  Solomon stood. “I will be examining them around mid morning tomorrow. Care to join me?”

  Edward flicked at his paperwork with his fingers and a grin. “I wish I could. I have so much I need to do, however.”

  “I will let you know what I think about them.”

  “Please do. Perhaps I can scrape up the capital.”

  Solomon smiled. “I hope so. Until later.”

  After paying a visit to Edward, Solomon sought out Aldric. He found him in his home, wincing at the sound of his screaming son as his wife and the nanny tried to soothe the child. “He scraped his knee,” Aldric explained, guiding Solomon back outside. “Sorry about that.”

  “No trouble. I wondered if you would like to take a quick jaunt with me tomorrow. Check out some warehouses I may wish to buy.”

  Aldric’s eyes brightened. “Expanding the import business or property business?”

  Solomon laughed. “Perhaps both.”

  “Yes, I certainly would. When and where?”

  “Have your horse ready by nine. I will swing by and we will go together.”

  “I say, how is your arm? I have not seen you to inquire, and I have been a poor friend to not write.”

  “It is sore but healing. I will have a physician pull the sutures soon.”

  “Good. Glad to hear.” Aldric eyed him speculatively. “So what happened to Beaulieu? The truth now, Sol. Plain and simple.”

  Solomon glanced aside at the rosebushes blooming beside Aldric’s veranda. “I lost my temper,” he admitted. “He fired at the count of nine while my back was turned.”

  “Bloody coward,” Aldric growled. “Bastard.”

  “He missed, of course. I shot him in his knee. While he was down, I angrily desired to shoot him in his other knee but refrained from doing so.”

  “He deserved it, Sol,” Aldric snapped. “He deserves to live the life of a branded coward. I only wish we could brand him in truth on his forehead.”

  “He will never walk properly again, Aldric,” Solomon reminded him quietly. “Is that not enough?”

  “No, by God. He is a Baron, for God’s sake. He must live by everyone else’s rules, which means acting with honor even when one’s life is at stake.”

  “He never lived by honor,” Solomon replied, staring at the roses. “He behaved like a coward, beat Elize the way he would never beat his servants. Poor woman.”

  “Beating one’s servants is illegal. Beating one’s spouse isn't.”

  Solomon chuckled. “Do not tell Teresa that. She will explode.”

  “Teresa is it?” Aldric asked with a lifted brow. “You are on familiar terms now?”

  “Yes. I truly like her, Aldric. She is special. She makes me think, helps me to look at the world in a fresh way.” Solomon smiled. “None of my casual liaisons ever made me feel like this.”

  “That is sounding like you are falling in love.”

  “Am I?” Solomon paced away a few steps, gazing out over the manicured lawns and neatly trimmed shrubs. “I do not truly know if am capable of it. The thought of marriage – let us say that prospect makes me tremble with dread.”

  “I say again. You are not your father. Sol, give this a chance. Do not throw it away out of misbegotten fears.”

  Solomon turned back to his old friend. “I will do my best. While I know my own feelings, I do not yet know hers.”

  Aldric eyed him sardonically. “Trust me, Sol. Women never keep their feelings secret.”

  ***

  The following morning, after spreading word as far and wide as he could that he would be looking at empty warehouses near the London Bridge, Solomon and Aldric rode toward the Thames. He chose to ride his black stallion, as the beast’s color and quality would stand out against the lesser horses on the streets. This time he traveled armed, and tried not to glance around too often.

  “Worried about getting shot again?” Aldric asked.

  “Of course. Should I not be?”

  “If it is in truth Beaulieu, in his current condition, he most likely cannot direct any assassins.”

  Solomon nodded. “Possible. Unless the standing orders are to kill me no matter what. In addition, I still have no solid proof that it is indeed Beaulieu.”

  “I cannot see anyone else wanting you dead, Sol.”

 
“Another outraged husband perhaps?”

  Laughing, Aldric shook his head. “Again, not as likely as you would think. These jealous husbands are far too honorable to dip their fingers into murder. Hate and despise you, yes. Hate and try to kill you, no. You are far too powerful, in society and Parliament. Your murder would set the realm on its collective head.”

  “Then what explanation do you have, Aldric? If not Beaulieu or another husband, then who is trying to kill me?”

  “I believe sincerely it is Beaulieu,” Aldric answered, watching him closely. “But due to his injury, he cannot continue his pursuit of your death. I think it is over and done with.”

  “I do hope so, my friend.”

  Reaching the wharves and docks along the river, Solomon and Aldric dismounted to tie their horses to the posts outside the warehouse where Solomon hoped his trap might be sprung. Around the area, well hidden, was Thomas and several constables. Even knowing they were there, Solomon could not see any evidence of their presence.

  Strolling inside, Solomon gazed around at the structure, examining its construction and quality. “This is not bad,” he commented, pacing toward the front that faced the river. “The roof is solid, I can store a year’s supply of goods here and wait for the prices to rise.”

  “I checked into what the owner is asking,” Aldric answered, pushing on a pillar that held up the broad roof. “It is a bit on the high side.”

  “Any negotiating room?”

  Aldric shook his head, wandering around and inspecting the floor as well as the walls. “Unknown at this time.”

  “We can leave the horses here,” Solomon said, heading toward the door. “The others are just along the road.”

  Stepping out into the bright sunlight, their mounts still tied patiently, they strode side by side to the next warehouse for sale. “Will you be keeping Edward in on this deal?” Aldric asked. “I happen to know he cannot raise the capital to help expand the business.”

  “He told me much the same,” Solomon replied. “Right now I do not know. I have no wish to cut him out, but nor do I want to hinder myself in my own ventures.”

  “I suspect you will do the right thing.”

  The second warehouse was not as solidly built as the first, and Solomon shook his head after only a few minutes of looking. “This will not serve,” he said, heading back to the door. He had no sooner stepped out, Aldric behind him, when the shot cracked through the late morning air, and the wood from the jamb splintered into his face, inches from his head.

  Instantly, Solomon was thrown to the ground, Aldric on top of him. “Stay still,” Aldric hissed in his ear.

  “No.”

  Bigger and heavier than Aldric, Solomon heaved his friend off of him at the same moment shouts and wild cries exploded from all around. Lifting his head, he saw Thomas, a pistol in his hand, rush out from hiding. “He went that way,” he yelled, pointing up the street. “Mark, James, cut him off.”

  Rising as far as his knees, Solomon, Aldric rolling to his feet, watched as the assassin with the dark curly hair bolted for freedom. Two uniformed constables dashed forward and tackled him to the ground, struggling to keep the man, who now fought hard, pinned down. Thomas shot a fast glance at Solomon to make sure he was all right, then ran to the battle with three constables on his heels.

  Standing, Solomon found Aldric staring at him. “You set a trap,” he said, his tone wondering.

  “I did,” Solomon admitted, dusting himself off as he started down the road. “Sorry to not have informed you, but I hardly knew if it would work.”

  “Believe me, I am not insulted,” Aldric commented dryly as he, too, brushed dirt from his clothing, striding firmly at Solomon’s side. “I'm just glad you are all right and your people caught him.”

  “Let us hope he will tell us who hired him and why I am being targeted.”

  The constables had succeeded in shackling the assassin’s hands behind his back, and lifted him to his feet as he cursed and still struggled. Thomas bowed as he and Aldric approached, offering a small grin. “That was a bit too close, Your Grace.” He gestured toward the structure behind them. “An inch over and we would have him, but you would be dead.”

  “I am quite grateful for his lack of marksmanship.”

  Stepping closer to Albert Johnson, Solomon studied his round face and stubble of a beard, his defiant dark eyes and fierce expression. “Who hired you to kill me?”

  Albert Johnson shut his teeth and glared.

  “Tell me what I wish to know, and I will make certain the courts are lenient. I have considerable influence within them.”

  Johnson remained silent, and did not look away from Solomon’s eyes. Growing angry at the man’s defiance, Solomon repeated his question, and received the same result, silence. “You will face hanging for your attempts to murder me, Mr. Johnson,” Solomon stated, his voice tight. “You can escape that fate if you tell me who hired you.”

  “I wi’ tell you nothin’, Duke,” Johnson spat, his upper lip curled.

  “I hope you were paid well,” Solomon continued, “though you will never have the opportunity to spend it. Or were you only to be paid once I was dead?”

  His lips thinned, Johnson said nothing, and his glower never changed. Wishing he was not such a gentleman that he could not beat the information from the man, Solomon stepped close enough to scowl into his eyes. “While I myself will not torment you to make you speak, the constables are not so delicate as I. Do you truly want to push this issue? I am certain their methods of extracting information are rather painful.”

  “Do yer worst,” Johnson growled.

  Solomon stepped back and signaled the constables to take Johnson away, his anger a hot lump in his chest. He glanced at Thomas as the uniformed men shoved Johnson down the street and around the corner. “At least he is caught,” he snapped, his voice hard. “Damn it, I was so sure he would talk immediately.”

  “He is a hard one, Your Grace,” Thomas replied. “Clearly not afraid of the consequences of his attempts at murder.”

  “Or more afraid of who hired him,” Aldric commented with a dip of his chin toward Thomas. He held out his hand. “Aldric Oakshire.”

  Thomas bowed before accepting it. “Thomas Wolcott, My Lord. My compliments on your speed in protecting His Grace.”

  “Had I known this was a trap and you all were here, I might not have tossed him in the dirt. Truthfully, I expected a second shot.”

  “You are a good friend, Aldric,” Solomon told him, trying to relax his anger. “Thank you.”

  “I certainly do not want to see anything happen to you,” Aldric replied easily.

  Wishing wholeheartedly that he could believe that and that his good friend was not the one stealing from him, Solomon took his leave from Thomas. “As long as we are here, let us take a look at the third warehouse,” he suggested.

  “So you truly are interested in looking at them?” Aldric asked, his brow up. “I thought this was simply a trap to catch this fellow.”

  “It is both,” Solomon answered, striding on down the street. “I do believe I should consider expanding my import empire even without Edward. Or perhaps buy a few warehouses and wait for the need for them to rise, and resell at a profit.”

  “I am with you on either plan, Sol,” Aldric told him with a grin. “If Edward cannot enter into a fresh contract with you, I will. Split the profits as we always have.”

  “That is good to know, Aldric. Let us see what we have here.”

  Entering the third warehouse, Solomon strolled about the place, examining the structural integrity of it, judging whether it could suit his needs if he decided to purchase and use it for storing his goods. “I think I like the first one –”

  The splintering of wood and a sharp cry cut him off, forcing Solomon to spin around in alarm. Where Aldric had been a moment before, a hole in the floor remained.

  Chapter 18

  Solomon Eli Dunn, the Duke of Thornehill

  “Aldri
c!” Solomon ran across the warehouse to peer down into the darkness. The floorboards under him creaked alarmingly. “Aldric, are you hurt?”

  “Sol.”

  Aldric’s voice drifted up from the pit. “I think I am all right.”

  Solomon, still trying to see his friend, thought he was not too far down below him. He listened to the sound of pieces of lumber being shoved aside, the faint echo of clothes rustling as Aldric got to his feet. “Nothing broken, I do not think,” he said, his voice tight with pain. “However, I am bleeding.”