Title Sinful Tales of Desirable Ladies

by Lucinda Nelson

  “Yes. I would like that very much.”

  The guest room she was given looked down on the street, and after Mrs. Bentley closed the door to leave her alone, she wandered over to it to gaze down. She half thought to see her stalker down there, gazing up. She did not, however, but that only assuaged her worry a small amount.

  “I will wager you do not know where I am,” she murmured, thinking of the red haired murderer. “Perhaps you are still watching Solomon’s house.”

  Her thoughts ranged to Solomon, his warm and kind green eyes – and another image of him with Rebecca Calhoun, and this time she did not halt the flood of tears that accompanied her shattered heart.

  Not bothering to wipe them away, Teresa wept into her hands, her sobs loud in the small chamber. All her pent up agony and grief went into her crying, and, half blinded by her tears, she staggered to the narrow bed and collapsed onto it.

  Hugging the pillow tightly to her, she cried and cried, weeping like a forlorn child until at last she fell asleep.

  ***

  Upon rising a few hours later, Teresa discovered it was nearly time for luncheon, and hunger gnawed at her stomach. Sitting down at the table with the looking glass, she found that her face was still slightly swollen from crying. Without a brush or pins, she could do little with her hair save comb her fingers through it to untangle the knots and hope that it appeared respectable enough.

  “Perhaps I should purchase a brush and another gown to wear,” she murmured as she washed her face in the basin. “If the Bentley’s will be kind enough to loan me a few coins.”

  Not only were they willing to help, Mrs. Bentley announced that she would accompany her. “There is a lovely shop just down the street, dear. My maid will help you with your hair.”

  Thus with her hair pinned up, a footman following, Teresa and Mrs. Bentley strolled down the wide quiet avenue, talking as though they had known each other for years. In spite of the escort, Teresa tried to keep a wary eye out for red headed villains who might try to sneak up on her again. Mrs. Bentley noticed.

  “You will be safe here, Miss Wolcott,” she said, her bright eyes fastened on Teresa’s face.

  “I hope so.”

  Despite her spell of crying and Mrs. Bentley’s company, her heart continued to ache. Against her will, she saw Solomon everywhere, in the carriage driver who smiled at her as she strolled by to the tall gentleman who nodded in greeting as they passed one another. Her pain and grief swelled until she felt it would burst in another flood of tears and sobs.

  In a row of shops, Teresa purchased a fresh gown, a brush, a small hat, tooth powder and a few books to read. Upon departing the last place, she froze, her heart in her throat. Across the street from her was the man who had twice tried to kill her.

  He had not seen her.

  His face turned away from them as they exited the shop, and Teresa quickly averted her face, her mouth dry. Unwilling to alarm Mrs. Bentley, she said nothing as they walked back up the street and away from him. Hoping the tall footman behind her concealed her from his view, she only half listened to Mrs. Bentley’s cheerful chatter.

  Praying that he did not know she was staying in the Bentley home, Teresa forced herself to stroll easily at Mrs. Bentley’s side. Knowing that to constantly check behind her would alarm the old woman, she did not, yet felt an itch between her shoulder blades. As though his eyes stared at her. Perhaps he does not truly know where I am and is simply searching. Not truly believing that, Teresa feared he would follow her to their home, and in the night enter to murder not just her, but the Bentley’s as well.

  Then she recalled the small army of servants within their walls and breathed slightly easier. He would not risk rousing the household and capture by entering in the night to kill them all. He may have tried to kill her on the street in broad daylight, as he could quickly run and vanish, but within a house filled with people his escape was not so certain.

  That would mean he knows I left Solomon’s house and might even know why.

  Could it be that Edward Crane had a spy in Solomon’s house?

  Arriving back at the house, Teresa took her packages up to her room, then washed, brushed out her long locks and pinned her hair up. After changing clothes, she returned downstairs to join Mr. and Mrs. Bentley for supper. Her stomach churning to the point it ached when she swallowed her food, thus she ate very little, and listened to Mrs. Bentley’s scolding.

  Dusk had crept across London by the time supper was over. Sitting in the chair by the window in her room, she watched the now diminished traffic in the street. She did not see the man anywhere, yet her fears did not ebb away. When at last it grew too dark to see anything, she lit a lamp, then readied herself for bed.

  Afraid to sleep, she opened a book and read, and jumped at every small noise the house made. “Perhaps I should hire a carriage to take me to Aunt Giselle’s right away,” she muttered as she stared at the door, fearing it would open. “Get myself out of London.”

  The hour was quite late when she finally blew the lamp out. Climbing from her bed, she peered down through the window at the street below. Empty of horse and foot traffic, she gazed in both directions as best she could. The street lamps gave off some light that illuminated the cobbled avenue and was reflected in the glass of the shop fronts.

  The only reason she saw him was because he took that moment to move.

  Her heart thudding like the hooves of a runaway horse, Teresa stared at him, mesmerized. He stepped from the shadows for a brief instant, the lamplight revealing his red hair and narrow face. Then he retreated into the darkness where he vanished from her sight.

  ***

  Solomon Eli Dunn, the Duke of Thornehill

  After Thomas departed to engage the Bow Street Runners into helping find Teresa, Solomon planned to perform his own search of London for Teresa before riding to meet Jonas Simms at the Beaulieu mansion. Waiting for his horse to be saddled, he paced the foyer, reflecting on where she might have gone to escape him.

  “Teresa,” he murmured. “Please come back to me.”

  A groom came in to bow and inform him his horse was ready, and Solomon made to walk out the front door. A voice calling to him from behind halted him, and he turned. It was James Hillsboro, the servant he had sent to Sussex to inquire whether Elize’s personal maid had retired there with a nice pension.

  “James,” he said, striding forward to meet him. “Did you find out anything?”

  James bowed and upon straightening shook his head with regret. “I am sorry, Your Grace. It would appear that the ladies’ maid, one Martha Rhimes, did not return to her village.”

  “How can you be certain?”

  “I spoke with her sister who still lives there. She wrote to say she would be coming home, but never actually arrived.”

  Solomon felt his heart sink. “Then we know what happened to her,” he muttered.

  “Your Grace?”

  “Never mind. Thank you for your excellent service, James.”

  The man bowed and departed as Solomon once more headed for the doorway and his horse. Though he strongly suspected the woman pulled from the river was the Baroness’s maid, having it confirmed to him made him both angry and sickened. Mounting his horse, he rode at a swift trot down his drive and into the London street.

  Riding down one of the main thoroughfares, he felt at a loss as to where Teresa might go. Up one street and down another, he gazed hard at every woman he saw, hoping he would find her. Feeling discouraged, Solomon rode on, and decided that as Aldric’s residence was not far away, he would pay a call on his friend. Perhaps Aldric might be able to add some insight into what he should do next.

  And he deserves to know that it is Edward who was stealing and trying to kill me.

  Appearing healthier than he had on previous visits, Aldric welcomed him into his drawing room and offered him brandy. “Did you come with news?” he asked, gesturing for a footman to pour for them both.

  Nodding, Solomon sat in an a
rmchair, and accepted the snifter from the servant. “Yes, I suppose I do. It is Edward behind all this.”

  “Sol.” Aldric took a chair opposite, his expression filled with sorrow and a hint of anger. “I am so sorry Edward betrayed you. But I am quite glad it is over now. I expect he is in prison?”

  “No, it is far from over, and no, he is not arrested, he is on the run. Have you any idea where he might go to hide?”

  Taking a mouthful of his brandy, Aldric frowned. “I do not. Would his mother know?”

  “She has been dead for years.”

  “Will that man stoop any lower than to lie about his mother?” Aldric asked with a chuckle. “Perhaps as you search for him you will succeed in driving him from London. You will be well rid of him then.”

  “It is not that simple, Aldric,” Solomon replied. “Edward set Rebecca Calhoun to seducing me in order to have Teresa witness it.”

  His words caught Aldric in the act of taking another drink, and the shock made him choke and sputter, all but spewing brandy everywhere. At last swallowing it, his face bright red, Aldric said, his voice hoarse, “She what?”

  “It worked,” Solomon continued, his previous anger rising again. “Teresa is gone and none of us know where.”

  Setting his glass on a table, Aldric leaned forward. “But this makes no sense. Why on earth would Edward go to such lengths to break up this relationship you have with Miss Wolcott?”

  “It makes perfect sense if he needs her out of my house in order to kill her.”

  Aldric nodded slowly. “That very well may be. But you and Miss Calhoun are closer than Stephanie and I are. Why would she do such a terrible thing?”

  “That I do not know,” Solomon gritted. “But I intend to find out. She betrayed me as much as Edward did.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “She spoke of traveling,” Solomon replied, his eyes narrowed as he fought to remember what she had told him. “But until she did, she was staying at a hotel here in London.”

  “There is only one place I think she would stay,” Aldric replied. “The Grand. It is popular with her crowd of actors and actresses.”

  “If she were smart, and I know she is, she will not remain there long. But I will pay a call there after I receive information on what is happening at the Beaulieu house.”

  “So it is Edward and not the Baron trying to kill you?”

  Solomon shrugged, feeling frustrated and helpless. “Perhaps both. Thomas suspects they may be together in this, but again, we have no true facts yet. Elize’s maid was found in the river with a rope around her neck.”

  “Good God.”

  “So we have more proof that murder was done in that house,” Solomon went on. “We just need the final pieces to have Beaulieu hung for the murder of his wife.”

  “I hope you find out, Sol,” Aldric said, his voice sincere, his eyes worried. “You need to be careful. Edward now has a great deal to lose, and that desperation makes for a very dangerous man.”

  “True enough. But I am angry and scared for Teresa and that makes me equally dangerous. If I get my hands on Edward….”

  “Perhaps I should come with you,” Aldric offered. “The two of us together can handle him.”

  “No, Aldric,” Solomon answered, his fear and anger making his voice harsher than he intended. “I already lost Teresa to this torrid affair, I cannot lose you as well. Nor will I have your name involved when it's all over.”

  “My name will survive,” Aldric replied, his eyes intent. “And you do not know for certain you lost her. Prove to her that Miss Calhoun’s ploy was meant to drive her from your house, and she will come to understand.”

  Solomon glanced away. “I hope so,” he whispered, his terror that he had truly and fully lost her, perhaps had gotten her killed, rose to squeeze his chest. “I love her.”

  “I can see that in your face. Do not lose hope, Solomon. Your lady is a smart one and will come back to you.”

  His throat thick, Solomon almost choked on his brandy as he swallowed a gulp. “Thank you, Aldric.”

  “No thanks needed, old friend. You are worried and angry. And God knows what else, so you are not thinking straight. Never, ever, underestimate a woman, Sol. They will surprise you at every turn.”

  Solomon raised a grin. “An expert, are you?”

  “Not at all. I do know, however, if she loves you, she will give you another chance.”

  ***

  Solomon fully expected that Jonas Simms had been dismissed from the Beaulieu household as he stood on the corner in his workman’s clothes, waiting for him. Jonas arrived only a few moments after Solomon, his expression excited as he joined him in the alcove of the doorway.

  “You have something?” Solomon asked, his own spirits rising.

  “I do. Beaulieu has been raving under the influence of the laudanum, talking about the murder of his wife, and ordering his steward, Holt, to kill her maid, who apparently witnessed the deed. Holt apparently strangled her and tossed her into the Thames.”

  “The constables found her,” Solomon said, “a cord around her neck.”

  “I also have a witness to Holt’s killing her,” Jonas went on after a casual glance around. “A footman. He is dead scared of Holt finding out, but he told me after I promised him you would keep him safe.”

  “And I will. And he has a place in my household if he so wishes. Can you smuggle him out of there?”

  “All I needed was your confirmation. I will get him out tonight, when all is quiet, and send him to your residence.”

  “Excellent news, Jonas,” Solomon told him with a small grin. “You have exceeded my expectations.”

  Jonas reached into his coat and pulled out a bundle of folded papers. “These are the notes I took as Beaulieu raved. Words from his own lips.”

  Solomon took them, and slipped them into his own coat without glancing at them. “But will your word stand up in court against him?”

  Folding his arms over his chest, Jonas leaned against the wall with a grin. “I am the second son of the Earl of MacTannish in Scotland. As the second born, I had no claim on the inheritance, and joined the Royal Navy. I changed my name, and worked hard to drop my accent, as it kept getting me into brawls.”

  Solomon tried not to gape. “Your bloodline is higher than his.”

  “And that will ensure my word in court will be heard.”

  “Jonas, I could kiss you.”

  “Do, and I will be forced to drop your ducal body to the cobbles.”

  Laughing, Solomon felt better than he had in a long while. “I expected that you would have been dismissed by now.”

  Jonas shook his head. “Lord Beaulieu has little mind left, and when he is coherent, he demands more laudanum. It will kill him, and soon, but his steward has come to depend upon me to keep the Lord relatively stable.”

  “Then stay at it. Keep making notes in case Beaulieu inadvertently confesses to other crimes he can be tried for.”

  “Thus far, he raves about his wife, you and the maid. He hates you something fierce, and I have no doubt he is behind the attempts to kill you.”

  Solomon’s gaze sharpened on Jonas. “You are sure?”

  “Positive. They are in the notes you have. He has spoken of working with a man named Crane to slaughter you as well as Miss Wolcott.”

  “Does Holt believe himself and his master safe from reprisal?”

  “So far, yes.”

  “Then stay within the household for as long as you can, get more information. Send the footman out tonight. But if at any time you feel your life is in danger, Jonas, you get out of there. That is an order.”

  Jonas straightened, and for a moment, Solomon thought he was about to salute. “I will.”

  “Good. We best part now.”

  With a casual nod, just short of a bow, Jonas ambled on down the street, his hands in his pockets and whistling. Quickly changing, he shoved the notes inside his coat, and mounted his horse. Riding through the
thinly traveled street, he passed Jonas by without looking at him directly, and observing that Jonas paid him no heed at all.

  “At last we have some success,” he murmured under his breath. “That is something, at least.”

  Chapter 29

  Miss Teresa Wolcott

  After a night of little sleep and much terror, Teresa, for the first time, considered returning to Solomon’s house. “I cannot trust him with my heart,” she muttered as she gazed at her few belongings in her room, “but I can trust him to protect me.”