by Dee Burks
Chapter 1
Boston—1885
“Who invited him?” Samantha James directed her aunt’s attention to a thin, well-dressed man who’d just stepped into the parlor of their Bostonian brownstone.
Mattie Eliot huffed an annoyed sigh. “I sure didn’t, my dear.”
John Lawson nodded in their direction, his smarmy gaze flitting over Samantha as if appraising a prize cow. It left her feeling filthy in a way even a good scrubbing in a big tub couldn’t change.
“Do you think he suspects?” Aunt Mattie whispered, her small form ensconced in this season’s latest fashion: a dark brown silk that set off pale green eyes to their best advantage. Even at the age of fifty-two she still turned heads, though none had turned hers since her late husband’s death ten years ago.
“No, I made it clear to Gerald Farnsworth at the bank that John’s access to our accounts and investments had been withdrawn but that he was not to say anything until I met with John tomorrow.”
“Good, I’m not sure what he’s up to,” she whispered, “but I’d guess he’s going to make another attempt to jump your knickers, the slimy bastard.”
Samantha smiled. Mattie did have a way with words that would probably shock the other matriarchs of Boston society, but Mattie really didn’t care what anyone thought and Samantha loved that about her. John had tried his best to get on Samantha’s good side, but she found absolutely nothing to like about the man.
In his early thirties, John Lawson had worked in his father’s investment firm for the past ten years. There was something about him that unnerved her. She couldn’t really put a finger on it, and in reality it was probably a combination of things: the way he appraised every person he talked to as if assigning them a dollar value or how he constantly fidgeted with his clothing as if trying to hide something. Perhaps it was the lack of warmth he exuded from his eyes or the condescending way he spoke. The man had a coldness about him almost as if he weren’t really human at all.
In contrast, his father was one of Mattie’s oldest confidants and one of the warmest, kindest men Samantha had ever met. Ty Lawson had managed Mattie’s investments both before and after her husband’s death and had been very successful as they’d grown exponentially. He’d also managed the small inheritance Samantha received from her parent’s death, and it, too, had grown to a substantial amount. She hadn’t even known about the inheritance until three years ago, but knowing it was there relieved any pressure she felt to get married. She never wanted to be a stone around anyone’s neck, especially Mattie’s.
But everything changed a short two weeks ago. They got word of Ty’s sudden death from John—the day after the funeral. It was extremely strange as Ty had been in his mid-fifties and in very good health. John had passed the hushed nature of the event off as family wanting privacy. But John was the only family and the fact that he hadn’t told anyone or allowed them to pay their respects was very suspicious. Rumors had immediately flown all around Boston, and many families that trusted Ty with their investments weren’t about to give John the same level of trust. Mattie and Samantha included.
The party was a relatively informal affair, which Mattie had for her close friends at the beginning of September every year before the official society season began. Many of the attendees were true Boston Brahmins who traced their families’ lineage back to their arrival on the Mayflower, and even though Mattie had married into their circle and wasn’t really one of them, she was very well liked. It certainly helped that her husband’s death had also left her an extremely wealthy woman who was still beautiful enough to be mistaken for someone in her early forties.
The fact that John had shown up unannounced and uninvited to Mattie’s party was just more proof to Samantha that he was after something—and that something probably included her. He’d made it very clear that he wanted his future attached to hers, but she had known from the beginning that he just wanted her money, and eventually Mattie’s, since Samantha was her only heir.
While they both did their best over the next hour to avoid John, eventually he caught them boxed in by people where they couldn’t discreetly get away. He sauntered up to Mattie, a glass of wine in each hand, “I thought you might be in need of refreshment, Mattie.”
John held out a glass and Mattie had to take it to avoid a scene, “Thank you, John” He stared boldly at Samantha while she pretended to watch something across the room. He refused to move away and stood in front of them, awkwardly blocking their escape.
Mattie took a sip and said, “I’m surprised to see you here, John.” He knew he hadn’t been invited, and hopefully pointing it out would at least produce some embarrassment or explanation on his part.
“Well, I’m sure the lack of invitation was just an oversight,” he said smoothly. “I’m sure it’s hard to remember everyone once memory issues set in.”
Mattie’s face turned bright red and Samantha could almost count the seconds before John would be wearing that wine.
“I do not have any memory problems, John Lawson, and you damn well know it.”
His condescending smile raked over both women, “Of course you do. Don’t you recall discussing that fact with my father and that our firm would be exercising power of attorney over your investments?”
“What?” Samantha spat.
“We’ll discuss this in the morning, Samantha, and know that I look forward to it.” He gave a slight bow and strode from the parlor, still smiling. They heard the front door close a moment later.
Mattie fumed, “That greedy little piss ant! He wouldn’t dare.”
Samantha tried her best to calm her aunt, “He probably would, but he’s not getting away with anything.”
Mattie glowered at the door John had just exited and gulped the wine. “How that, that thing sprang from Ty Lawson’s loins I’ll never know.” She fanned her face with one hand. “I’m so angry I could just melt.”
Samantha glanced at her aunt just as Mattie’s eyes rolled back in her head. She slid to the floor in a pile of brown silk and the party immediately descended into chaos.
An hour later Samantha glanced over at Mattie, lying peacefully in the large four poster bed. The doctor said she would be fine, but Mattie Eliot’s collapse had surprised all the guests. Mattie was as vibrant as most women half her age, including Samantha. In the nine years since Samantha had come to live with Mattie she’d rarely seen the woman ill, let alone in a full swoon.
It was a mild early fall day, so heat didn’t seem to be a factor, and even though Mattie had been more embarrassed than anything it was still highly unusual. Upon hearing that Mattie would be fine the guests discretely departed and the household settled into the familiar quiet that Samantha loved.
The four-story brownstone on Newbury Street in the Back Bay neighborhood had been a sanctuary for an awkward fourteen-year-old girl who had lost both parents. Mattie and her sister Clair, Samantha’s mother, were very close, but where Mattie had done the expected thing and married a wealthy Boston businessman almost twenty years her senior, Samantha’s mother had followed her heart and married Sam James, a man who dreamed of striking it rich in the New Mexico Territory.
Though these days Samantha was the perfect example of an aloof, restrained, and educated young woman of good breeding from Boston, her childhood had been spent wild and free in the northern mountains of the New Mexico Territory. It seemed the last couple of years those carefree days crossed her mind much more often and lingered as a wistful longing. As one suitor after another attempted to impress her, she’d become more and more stoic. Samantha just wasn’t interested in any of them—or anything else of late. A strange restlessness had settled in her heart and refused to budge.
&n
bsp; Paul Creswell, Mattie’s butler and the newest addition to her staff, fussed fluffing pillows and straightening the beautiful Baltimore quilt that covered Mattie’s petite form. Boston society had recently become enamored of English butlers, so of course Mattie had to have one. Paul had more than twenty years experience serving as a butler in the great manor houses of England, but had only been in her aunt’s employ for a few weeks. Samantha would guess him to be in his late fifties or early sixties with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair and steel blue eyes that were quick and lively. She had to admit Paul’s formal dress and clipped British accent had certainly added something interesting to the household. Samantha saw his eyes twinkle when Mattie laughed, which was often, hard as he might try to hide it.
“Madam,” he said addressing Samantha formally, “Should you need anything I’ll be right outside.”
“Thanks so much Paul.” She had to admit she already had a soft spot for the man. Mattie’s whims weren’t the easiest to deal with sometimes, but he’d been quite the sport—so far at least.
“Tea will be up shortly.” He offered a curt bow, slid a worried glance toward the bed and then exited.
“That British accent still rolls over me like melted butter,” Mattie’s eyes popped open.
Samantha smiled and shook her head. “You know he was really worried about you.” She sat on the edge of the huge bed, which made Mattie look that much smaller.
Her aunt scrunched up her nose, and rolled the covers down across her pink nightgown, “I know. I hope I didn’t embarrass myself too much.” Mattie squirmed into a sitting position and placed a pillow behind her head.
“No one thought anything about it,” Samantha lied.
“Well, what are we going to do about John?” She asked.
Samantha sighed, “I think we should let your lawyer know what is going on immediately and even contact the police.”
“Do you think he’d really try to enforce a fake power of attorney?”
“Well, he might, and I have to wonder if tonight’s episode is part of something bigger,” Samantha’s suspicions had been immediately aroused when Mattie fainted so quickly after drinking the wine John gave her. It didn’t take a genius to connect the dots.
“Surely he isn’t that stupid,” Mattie said.
“No. Whatever he is, he isn’t stupid. I’m just wondering if he was sending some sort of message before tomorrow’s meeting.”
“What kind of message?”
“I have my suspicions, but let’s cross that bridge when we get there. In the mean time, I think we should ensure all our assets are safe.”
“Agreed. Do you think you should go see him alone?”
Samantha shrugged, “I can’t imagine he’d try something in front of an office full of people, and he might be reluctant to reveal his true intentions if someone unexpected showed up.”
Mattie stewed for a minute, then watched Samantha closely, “I noticed that you weren’t really enjoying yourself much at the party even before John arrived.”
Samantha shrugged. No she hadn’t been. At all. There were no conversations that held her attention. The last things she cared about were what was playing at the opera house this season and who was doing what to whom. Most of the women her age had young families and talked constantly about babies and husbands. At twenty three she was considered something of a spinster and the only other women her age who didn’t have families were so wrapped up in shopping and voyages to Europe it was hard to get a word in. Not that she cared to.
“What is it dear?” Her aunt’s pale green eyes pleaded. Mattie always knew when something wasn’t right.
“I don’t know. I just don’t seem to be interested in anything anymore. It’s like I’m waiting for something that never appears.” The feeling had been growing for some time, and the worse it got the more annoyed Samantha became with everyone and everything in her life. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Mattie spoke softly, “It’s not something you are waiting on Samantha. It’s someone.”
She scoffed at the ridiculous idea and walked to the window. Though it had cooled some from the sweltering heat of August, it would still be a while before the leaves brought out their fall colors. Stately carriages rolled down Newbury Street, and she suddenly had the urge to jump into one and go. Where, she didn’t know.
“Scoff if you will my dear, but I know what you are waiting on.”
Samantha smiled, “And what would that be?”
“A tall, dark, handsome man to whisk you off your feet.” Mattie grinned and bounced her eyebrows at Samantha.
She laughed, “Why is everything about finding me a man?”
“Well, not everything my dear.” She thought a moment, “Of course if he had an amazing accent, that would be different as I honestly don’t know how you’d help yourself.”
Samantha laughed and shook her head, the woman was relentless, but she knew Mattie just wanted her to be happy—whatever that meant. “Well, don’t worry about the appointment with John tomorrow. I can handle it.”
At ten o’clock the next morning Samantha walked along Newbury and up a block on Dartmouth. Most of the buildings were new and construction seemed to be everywhere in this part of Boston. The Lawson Investment Firm was located in the ground floor of a three-story building with John and his father having lavish quarters on the upper floors.
She entered and was greeted by one of several assistants that occupied the outer office. He showed her into what had been Ty Lawson’s office. The scent of expensive cigars permeated the room. The highest quality leather chairs and a massive oak desk perched atop a delicate silk carpet exuding wealth and success. Only now John sat behind the desk, a pretender to all his father had built. She perched on the edge of one of the leather chairs.
“You are a beautiful woman, Samantha.” John stared at her with undisguised lust.
It was his father’s desk, his father’s office, his father’s success, but John had taken over even before the flowers from Ty’s funeral had wilted. John looked the part of an impeccable financial advisor but, as usual, had all the warmth of a headstone.
“We aren’t talking about me,” Samantha stressed, “We are talking about Mattie’s accounts, and by my calculations more than two thousand has gone missing in the last week alone.”
“Well you can’t be expected to understand all the intricacies of finan-“
“Don’t even,” she growled. “I studied finance extensively—in fact much more than you ever have—and I am well aware of the investments in Mattie’s portfolio, so don’t think that just because my aunt and I are female, we are stupid.”
John didn’t react to her statement. He flicked an imaginary piece of lint off his immaculate jacket. A new, extremely expensive jacket, she noted.
“Perhaps once the accounts have all been settled and I’ve had time to recover from my father’s sudden passing I’ll be able to sit and explain things to you and your aunt.”
Samantha rose to leave. “I’m more inclined to believe the rumors I’ve heard, and I’m quite sure you are not exactly mourning Ty’s death.”
“I’m surprised and hurt Samantha.” He turned his black eyes toward her and smiled. “Now surely you don’t believe those lies. In fact I was thinking about calling on you soon.”
She stared at him for a moment. “What on earth for?”
“Well as a suitor of course.” He arrogance oozed across the room. “You’d be lucky to have a husband of my stature and I believe your spirit could be channeled into worthwhile areas.” His gaze flitted over her curves in appreciation, but felt like an assault.
She shuddered. “Mr. Lawson, I have no interest in you whatsoever. In fact, you disgust me.” She didn’t notice the change in him as she rose to leave. “Whatever you are planning you absolutely will not get away with it.” She glanced down at him. “I’ve already had your access to all our accounts removed and the bank alerted to possible fraud.”
Lawson spr
ang to his feet.
Samantha continued, “In fact, my next stop is the police. I’m sure if there is money missing from Mattie’s account, then others have been stolen from as well.”
John came around the desk and grabbed her before she had time to react. A cold clammy hand slapped over Samantha’s mouth from behind. She struggled to pull away until she felt the sharp edge of a knife push into her ribs. She froze.
“Not one word, you pretentious bitch,” He hissed. “You have no idea who you are dealing with or what I can do, understand?” With that last word he shook her and she felt the knife slice her dress and rest against her skin. She didn’t move a muscle.
He spun her around and violently pushed her back up against the door, her face within an inch of his. He held the knife at her throat. “There is nothing you can do to stop me from getting what I want.”
John’s gaze settled on the pearl buttons that ran down the front of her dress. He chuckled, his vile breath assaulting her, “And make no mistake. I will have what is mine, and that little fainting spell of Mattie’s was just a show of exactly how dangerous I can be.”
He popped off one button with the tip of his knife. It hit the floor and rolled a short distance. “I easily could have killed her, just like I can easily kill you right now.”
Samantha willed herself not to panic. He had put something in Mattie’s drink, just as she had suspected. He wouldn’t think twice about killing Mattie or Samantha to get his hands on their money, and he was clearly unhinged. She had to find a way to calm him down and get out of this office.
“Not a peep,” he whispered, “You will learn to respect me.”
She nodded and he slowly lowered his hand from her mouth. Samantha forced her voice not to shake. “You are right John. I have underestimated your shrewd financial abilities. I apologize if I was disrespectful concerning your father.”
He popped another button and it bounced across the rug. His eyes glinted as he twisted the knife in his fingers, his eyes on her breasts. John slid the cold edge of the knife into the new opening he’d made by removing buttons. The tip of the blade slid along her cleavage. He held her eyes and leaned down, flicking the tip of his tongue into the valley between her breasts. She cringed and stiffened.
