DELETED SCENE #1
Serena's reputation as a dangerous woman with underworld connections played a much larger role in my early drafts. Here are two small scenes in which Solomon eavesdrops on gossip and fails to learn anything of value.

Solomon woke at eight o'clock, not at all refreshed. Serena, he knew, must be already awake and dealing with business, and he wanted to see her. Within twenty minutes he was dressed and on his way to her office.

He brushed past a knot of young men lounging on the stairs and turned the corner just as one of them said, "How'd a Ravenshaw end up a highflyer anyway?"

Solomon couldn't help himself. He stopped and listened avidly.

"Blackthorne found out she wasn't his daughter at all and tossed her out, of course," one said.

"Gammon, she looks just like the old bugger," said another. "I heard she seduced her mother's lover."

"You're all miles off," said a third. "Everyone knows it was her governess she seduced. My sister told me she made improper advances to half the girls at Parkinson's Finishing School."

Profound silence greeted this statement. Solomon looked back around the corner to see the young men in blissful contemplation of a young ladies' boarding school gone wild. It was obvious they had no more idea why Serena was here than he did. He hurried on, feeling rather ashamed of himself.

It was cool in the pastry kitchen. The ice room next door nicely counteracted the heat from the enormous ovens. Solomon focused on his dough, letting the sounds from the kitchen next door wash over him. He came out of a brown study sometime later to realize that the kitchen staff was gossiping about Serena.

"She don't seem so scary to me," a girl was saying. "To hear people talk you'd think she was the bogeyman. I couldn't believe it when I met her and saw she was just a scrawny little thing!"

"You've never seen her in a rage," a young man said. "She can make 'em shake in their boots when she's a mind to. Charlotte told me she took the ears off of a pack of lordlings for getting fresh with her."

"Aye, and they scattered like roaches," another voice chimed in. "They knew what was good for 'em."

"Once a gentleman got hold of me in the courtyard at night, back when we first opened," a girl said, "and I wouldn't have got away, except Robert came out with the dishwater. Well, when she found out, she had him--"

"Hush!" an older woman said. "There are children present!"

"Well, I will just say it wasn't pretty," the girl finished proudly. "No one takes a hand to us anymore."

"Have you all heard about Suzy Jenkins?" someone asked. There were a few assenting murmurs around the room, but to Solomon's relief the speaker continued. "Lady Serena knew her before, if you get my meaning. Well, she was in the keeping of some fine gentleman, and found herself in the family way. This fine gentleman cast her off prompt-like."

"Why didn't she just have it taken care of?" someone asked.

"Sometimes girls die from that," a woman said quietly. "Maybe she was afraid."

"Well," the original speaker continued, "this same gentleman who couldn't afford to take care of Suzy liked to gamble. So he goes to the Green Fan, see, and he loses near four thousand pounds!"

There were whistles around the room. Solomon's own eyebrows rose. Four thousand pounds was a lot of money.

"I heard it was five thousand!" someone said. Still another insisted it was ten thousand. A brief squabble broke out, but eventually the thread of the narrative was resumed.

"So he pays up, and the very next day he gets a note from Suzy that he needn't trouble about her any longer, she had come into a legacy, and a tidy one, too--thirty-six hundred pounds!"

Murmurs ran around the kitchen.

"The Fan took a ten-percent commission, see? Everyone knew they did it as a favor to Lady Serena."

"But the Green Fan runs honest tables," someone protested.

"Usually," the storyteller said with heavy significance.

"What did she do for them in exchange?" someone asked.

"Paid 'em off," someone guessed.

"I heard she bedded Mr. Green," another said.

"Naw, everyone knows she threatened to have his daughter killed," someone chimed in.

"Don't be a ninny, she saved his daughter from white slavers."

Solomon almost laughed. It was evident the kitchen staff knew about as much of Serena's crimes as the three lordlings he'd overheard that first morning. The ensuing debate lasted until Antoine walked back in, at which point the kitchen went abruptly silent.

DELETED SCENE #2
Another scene about Serena's scary reputation. It's rather silly and I'm glad I cut it from the finished book, but it was fun to write and I'm still fond of some of the jokes.

"Ashton? I don't think I've seen him since Cambridge." He shrugged. "He's a likable enough fellow, I suppose, but--well--he never paid his tradesmen's bills. There were always at least three duns hanging around his rooms. It irked me."

And then a noise came from the shadows. Serena's head snapped around but the boy already had a knife to Solomon's throat, one hand fisted in his blond hair. He yanked him backwards and Solomon's hand was jerked from her grasp. "I've instructions to slice up your gentleman friend for you, but if you give me what's in that pretty silk purse I might let him go with a scratch or two," he drawled.

"She hasn't got anything," Solomon said. "Let her go."

Poor Solomon. Even now he persisted in believing she needed to be protected. Well, he'd learn his mistake soon enough. People needed to be protected from her. She was dangerous. After all, if Solomon didn't know her, he wouldn't be here now with a knife glinting yellow against his pale, pale throat. Very slowly, she reached up and pushed back the hood of her cloak.

The knife was gone so fast Solomon stumbled. "The Black Thorn!" the boy said. He was probably only fourteen or fifteen, but wiry and tall, with a missing front tooth and a jagged scar on his cheek that pulled his mouth into an involuntary leer. Young as he was, he had probably sliced up his fair share of victims. "I--I didn't know--"

Serena raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You won't last long if you don't make it your business to know," she said evenly. "You may have heard of a small prohibition I announced recently?"

The boy stared at Solomon in such horror that Solomon froze in the act of massaging his bruised scalp. "That's Solomon Hathaway?" the boy stuttered, pointing an accusing finger.

Serena nodded wordlessly.

"Mary Mother of God," the boy breathed. "He didn't tell me his name--"

"You heard the terms of the prohibition, didn't you?"

All the blood drained from the boy's face. "Please," he said, the word falling incongruously from his narrow, sarcastic mouth, "I've got a little sister to look after, she counts on me--"

Serena let her eyes dwell on the boy, who seemed to stop breathing. The seconds ticked by slowly. Finally she said, "If you tell me who 'he' is, I might let you off with a warning. This time."

"I don't know. He didn't want me to be able to trace him. He told me to meet him--someplace--tomorrow and he'd give me ten guineas."

Serena sighed impatiently. "What did he look like?"

"A flash cull, light brown hair going white around the edges, with a fresh bruise right here." He ran a grubby finger along the left side of his jaw.

Lord Brynweir. Not her father. Serena felt her whole body relax, though she did not take her eyes off her captive. "Thank you. Now let me give you a word of advice--"

"I won't go near him again, I swear, I would never--"

She cut him off. "Never accept a commission without the money in advance."

The boy bowed his head, flushing a dull red. "Yes, Thorn."

"Now what is your name?"

"Jeffrey," he mumbled sullenly.

"Jeffrey what?"

"Jeffrey Millbanks."

"Are you lying to me? I'll find out if you are, you know."

"A fellow'd have to be an idiot to lie to you, Thorn," he said flatly.

Serena couldn't help smiling a little. "Very flattering. All right, Jeffrey, I would take it as a kindness if you would warn your friends to be very careful not to make the same mistake you did. You've heard the terms of the prohibition. Next time I won't be so lenient."

"Of course not. Thank you, Thorn!" Jeffrey tried to back away.

"Wait!" Solomon said, and began digging in his pockets. Jeffrey eyed him apprehensively, but when Solomon held out what looked like a half-crown and several pennies in his palm, the boy stared at the few coins with a hunger he could not conceal. Yet he made no move to take them. Smart lad.

"You should make something on the commission," said Solomon. Jeffrey looked at Serena. So did Solomon. Except Solomon was giving her an admonitory frown. Abruptly, she nodded. Grabbing the coins, Jeffrey made to run off down the street.

"Oh--one more thing, Jeffrey," she said.

Jeffrey, sure that this time his luck had run out, paused in his flight. "Yes?"

"Where did his lordship wish to meet you tomorrow?"

"Leicester Square. At one." He paused in sudden speculation. "Did you plant him a facer, Mr. Hathaway?" he asked Solomon appreciatively.

Solomon grinned at him and nodded.

"Hunh," Jeffrey said. "You don't look like you'd be much with your fists, but you must have a punishing right!"

Solomon looked like he didn't quite know what to say to that.

"Thank you, Jeffrey, that will be all," Serena said sardonically. "Now run along. I'm sure your dear little sister, if you really possess such an article, must be wondering where you are." Jeffrey flushed, nodded, and melted back into the night.

When he had turned a corner out of sight, Serena raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Solomon. He shrugged sheepishly. "He looked hungry."

She raised the other eyebrow. "I was asking if you were all right," she drawled. Solomon looked faintly wounded by her nonchalance. What he didn't know was that she was restraining herself with all her will from grabbing him by the arms and examining him for damage inch by inch--and the images that evoked were so absorbing that Serena nearly jumped when Solomon replied.

"Oh, yes, fine--actually, I think he nicked my throat a little." He saw her face and added hastily, "But only in his hurry to let me go when he saw you."

"I told you I was dangerous. Now maybe you'll believe me."

He looked at her consideringly. Suddenly his eyes lit up. "You asked him his name!"

Had fright unhinged his mind? "Yes..."

"You don't know every rogue in London by their Christian name at all!"

"I do now," she pointed out.

"Pure sophistry. It's all a façade!"

Serena was decidedly put out. "He knew who I was. That's what counts."

"You don't know every rogue in London by their Christian name! That's--that's false advertising. It's probably illegal."

"What, a law against false advertising?" Serena scoffed. "Every business in London would be shut down."

"Not Hathaway's Fine Tailoring," Solomon said primly. "Unlike you, we deliver on our promises."

She was so taken aback by the direction the conversation was taking that she actually sputtered. "I can't believe you're trying to turn what is clearly evidence of my dangerousness into...into something else!"

"Thou shalt not bear false witness, Serena! I'm shocked, very shocked. I don't know if I can trust you any more."

All of a sudden Serena was focusing on him very intensely indeed. "Did you trust me before?"

He smiled. "Not an inch," he declared. "I daren't take my eyes off you for a moment for fear you will lure me to my doom, suck out my soul, and gnaw the very flesh from my bones."

Serena felt at that moment that she could learn to live with Solomon never taking his eyes off her. Just now they were sparkling easily. His coat was askew and it made her want to shove him up against the lamppost and kiss him again. But his next words were like a bracing bucket of cold water. "Serena, what are the terms of the prohibition?"

She looked away. "You're too squeamish to know."

"Why did you want to know where Lord Brynweir asked him to meet him?"

"So I can make sure he doesn't try anything like this again."

Solomon was silent for a few minutes. "Don't do anything but frighten him. Please."

Serena looked at him. Too magnanimous by half, as always. And if she hadn't been with him he might be dead. She pulled her cloak round her more tightly and nodded.

"Serena?"

"Yes?"

"Are you very sorry you haven't spent the past five years happily married?"

She was silent a long time before answering. She thought about how she'd ached, all those months at Mme Deveraux's, to be married to Harry, even as she'd hated him for leaving her to her fate. How she'd ached to work all day at some menial job and come home and sit by an inadequate fire and smile at him. But that was years ago now. "No," she admitted bluntly. "It's awful, isn't it, that for me it's for the best? I don't think we should have suited."

"Why, because he was a footman?" Solomon asked with swift resentment.

"Not in the least," she said with a quelling glare. "He was fresh-faced and cheerful and always saw the best in people. He would have driven me mad."

Solomon rolled his eyes, and they walked in more or less companionable silence the rest of the way back to the Arms. Some tipsy young men spilled out into the street, stumbling and laughing, and warmth and light spilled out with them.

DELETED SCENE #3
The original version of Solomon's nightmare.

He wanted to bury his face in her shoulder and cry and he rather thought she would let him. "Get out," he said.

She paled. "Solomon, you were yelling."

"So let me yell."

"I am not going to bloody well let you--" She cut herself off. "I don't want you waking up any of my customers."

"Go away, Serena."

"Damn it, Solomon, let me stay." It was the best she could do, he knew, but it wasn't enough.

He raised his eyebrows. "If you want the armchair, it's all yours."

She glared at him, but to his complete astonishment, she pulled the armchair over by the bed and sat in it, scowling. Solomon tried not to let himself be overwhelmingly touched. "Stubborn nodcock," she muttered.

His lips twitched. "'Oh woman, in our hours of ease/Uncertain, coy, and hard to please/When pain and anguish wring the brow/A ministering angel thou!'"

Serena leaned gracefully back in the armchair and quirked a brow. "Smothering you with a pillow would stop you yelling too, you know."

It was damned difficult to fall back asleep with Serena's gray eyes on his back.

DELETED SCENE #4
Epilogue: the wedding. When I wrote this, I didn't realize that Regency weddings were organized very differently from post-Victorian ones. But I still like the scene.

Epilogue
July 24th, 1815. Cornwall.

"So, did Prinny really arrange an annulment for the Thorn in exchange for Mother's almond-pear tartlet recipe?" Elijah asked as they walked up the winding path to the simple Cornish church.

"He did indeed," Solomon confirmed. "I think he'd have given me a whole lot more if I'd asked." He gave a final tug to his cravat. "Are you sure I don't look an idiot?" He was wearing cream-colored pantaloons, top boots, a bottle-green coat, and a peacock blue waistcoat embroidered all over with peacock feathers by his bride's own hand. "I mean, peacock feathers. Do you think she's trying to say something about me?"

Elijah punched his shoulder. "You look dashing and you know it. You should let the Thorn pick your clothes more often. You can't blame her for noticing that bottle green is our best color." He eyed the peacock feathers critically. "Have you talked to her about doing piecework for Uncle Hathaway?"

Solomon opened the doors a crack and peeked inside. Serena was sitting in the front pew, talking to a rapt Susannah. She was waving her hands over her breasts and thighs and making shooting gestures with her right hand. Solomon puzzled over that for a moment before realizing that she was likely describing exactly what she had been wearing during the shooting match with Byron. Beside them, Mrs. Hathaway was happily sniffling into a Ravenshaw Arms handkerchief. Serena looked almost like one of the family.

If Serena had ever imagined her wedding--which she hadn't--she wouldn't have imagined the Dewingtons as guests.

"I never would have suggested he ask her for help if I had known this would happen," Lord Dewington was grumbling to Mrs. Hathaway. "My own nephew marrying the Siren. Dashed bad ton. Told you no good could come of running off with a dashed divinity student, Lydia."

"Oh, Jamie, cut line," Mrs. Hathaway said, looking up from Serena's handkerchief with a smile. "You always say that, but I don't remember you raising the house when you caught me eloping with him." She turned misty eyes to where Mr. Hathaway was arranging his notes and grumbling about dust on the lecturn.

Serena smiled and looked at the other side of the aisle--her side, the one without a full complement of Dewingtons and Hathaways. She had invited her mother, but she had received a short note of congratulation in reply saying that Lady Ravenshaw was not feeling well enough to come. So it was just Sophy and René and Antoine and--well, apparently it wasn't a full complement of Hathaways on the other side, because there was Arthur, leaning over the back of the pew and saying something sotto voce that was making Sophy laugh.

She was glad René was here to give her away. He had arranged with some friends for passage to the Cornwall coast and back; they were waiting not far off in case he needed to leave in a hurry. Serena hadn't inquired very closely about what sort of friends they were. The war was over now, and if former French spies wanted to help with her wedding, she wasn't going to complain.

She smoothed her skirts for perhaps the thousandth time. She was wearing blue, because she might not be pure, but she would always be true to Solomon. It was a lovely blue, the color of a summer evening. A Hathaway earring was a comforting weight in her left ear. She put a hand up to make sure her artfully arranged curls were still hiding where the other ought to be. She glanced over at René and saw that he was nervously rubbing his waistcoat pocket, where the second earring was concealed. Elijah was a Hathaway too, after all.

The doors swung up open and Solomon and Elijah walked up the aisle, their yellow hair all on end from the Cornish wind.

"Ready to get married?" Solomon said.

"She's not the one who was almost late," Mr. Hathaway said disapprovingly.

Serena looked at her soon-to-be husband. Shouldn't she be afraid? Shouldn't she be having cold feet or wedding nerves or whatever it was brides were supposed to have? Shouldn't she feel the ring already constricting around her finger and cutting off her circulation?

Solomon's eyes were shining, and all she knew was that the ceremony couldn't come fast enough.

And if, slipping the ring on her finger, he flushed a deep, Hathaway red and stuttered a little over "with my body, I thee worship," well, Serena thought it was sweet.

When it was over, Solomon announced to everyone that they would be hosting a reception at the Hart's Head. When they'd received nearly everyone's congratulations, he took Serena's hand and began tugging her down the aisle.

"In that much of a hurry to get to the reception, are you?" Serena asked. "You're just eager to collect on your wager when Sophy drinks René under the table. Elijah was an idiot to bet against her. I know you Hathaways are foolishly loyal, but--"

Solomon's eyes glinted golden as he smiled, and heat flickered in Serena's belly. "Do you think anyone will mind if we're a little late?" he asked.

The flicker of heat kindled into a blaze, but Solomon's entire family was here. Besides, she'd found a spider in her bed last night. "But Solomon, that inn doesn't air its sheets properly, I don't know that I want to get naked on them. We'll be back in London tomorrow, don't you think--"

"--I can wait? No. The walls seemed clean enough if you don't like the look of the sheets."

Serena didn't find that idea wholly unappealing, but she leaned in to whisper, "I don't think it's any different when you're married."

He stopped, and looked back at her with a raised eyebrow. "Have you ever tried?"

"No," she said softly. "I never have." She looked down at the ring on her finger. She was married to Solomon, and that, she suspected, could make everything new. "Forget the inn. Have you gone down to the cliffs yet?"

"I haven't had time."

She smiled. "Come along, then. I want to show you the sea." They walked down the aisle and out into the fresh salt air.