His Wallflower White: The Dark Duke’s Legacy

by Andresen, Tammy

  A shiver ran down Millie’s spine.

  Patrick had been right. It wasn’t safe for her to be out, even in the middle of the day.

  Parricide stood by the door. Instinctively, Millie surged to her feet and tucked herself behind Patrick.

  “You,” Parricide gritted out. “I should have known.”

  “You,” Patrick parroted. “What are you doing here, Parricide?”

  “Parricide,” Veritas said from the other side of the desk. He was around it in an instant, taking a position next to Patrick. Esme skirted around the edge of the room, on the far wall, coming to stand next to them as well.

  Parricide’s lips curled. “You’ve got something I want.” And he looked past Patrick, meeting Millie’s eye. She swallowed down her gasp. He couldn’t be referring to her, could he?

  She trembled in fear, but Millie was behind a human shield. She ducked deeper behind Patrick’s broad back until he suddenly lunged forward. She covered her mouth as she swallowed a scream.

  The blast came then, a deafening sound that filled the small space, her ears ringing from the noise even as Millie dropped to her knees, covering her head.

  She couldn’t hear a thing other than the ringing in her own ears. But she saw Patrick wrestling with Parricide, landing several blows to the man’s mid-section.

  Veritas was on his knees as well, just in front of her, and that’s when she saw the blood seeping through the sleeve of his coat.

  She did scream then, reaching out to touch the other man. “Mr. Veritas,” she said, unable to control the tremor in her voice or her hands.

  Patrick turned back then. His gaze catching hers.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Parricide grab the umbrella stand next to the door, swinging it toward Patrick’s head.

  “Patrick,” she screamed. He ducked to the side, the blow glancing off his shoulder. But it was strong enough that Parricide wiggled free. He gave her a last look and then he disappeared out the door.

  Patrick pulled himself to standing, starting after the other man.

  “Patrick,” she called again. He halted, turning toward her. “Mr. Veritas is bleeding.”

  Patrick came back toward them, his teeth gritted. “Damn it,” he growled as he lowered himself to the ground, his movements halting.

  Millie slid toward the lawyer and with shaking hands, she started to remove his coat. Esme joined her, gently removing the heavy piece of clothing.

  His shirt was sliced on the sleeve and blood still oozed from the spot, but Patrick leaned closer. “It’s a flesh wound.”

  Veritas scowled. “It bloody hurts.”

  Patrick grinned. “You’re taking it like a man. I’ll give you that.”

  Esme stood. “Should I fetch the doctor?”

  “I’m not sure you should,” Patrick answered, stripping off his own jacket. Millie saw him wince. “But, I don’t want you to go off alone.”

  Esme’s gaze caught Millie’s. A slight smile touched the other woman’s lips, and she gave a little nod. Then she looked at Patrick. “Your concern is appreciated.”

  Veritas glanced down at his arm. “I agree with Mr. Cranston. Pay a boy in the street to fetch the doctor. In the meantime, we’ll wrap the wound and then you all should leave. Go somewhere safe.”

  Millie nodded. “Good idea. Thank you, Mr. Veritas.” Sitting back down, she began ripping strips from her petticoat. “That wound will need a good cleaning.”

  The other man nodded. “The doctor will see to it.”

  Esme stepped to the door, waving down a boy as Millie began to wrap the wound. Patrick sat, too, gently moving his shoulder.

  “He hit you hard,” she said as Patrick wrapped Mr. Veritas’s arm. She wanted to run her hands over Patrick, make certain he was all right. Millie just wanted to touch him. Her eyes fluttered closed and her hands stilled. She wanted to tuck herself against him, and not just to hide because he’d stood between her and danger. But because being next to him would be so lovely.

  Her eyes opened again and looked at him. He’d said that he didn’t want to marry because he couldn’t support a woman. Was that true?

  Did he have genuine feelings for her?

  She winced. What if he didn’t feel the way she did?

  Her tongue came out to wet her lips as she finished dressing the wound.

  “Go,” Veritas said. “I’ll be in touch with your brother soon.”

  She pried her gaze from Patrick to look at the lawyer. “The doctor hasn’t arrived yet. We can’t leave you alone.”

  Veritas shook his head. “You really are a White. Off with you. I can take care of myself.” Then he looked at Patrick. “Mr. Cranston, I trust you can keep Lady Millicent safe?”

  “I can,” he said, rising. Then he reached down and pulled Millie to her feet. “Along that end.” He looked at Esme. “I think you should take the carriage back and tell your stepsons what’s transpired.”

  “Of course,” Esme answered, her gaze flitted to Millie. “And Millie?”

  “She’s coming with me. Justice will know where.”

  He was just going to take her off? “Are you certain that’s a good idea?”

  “I am,” he said. “Mr. Veritas is right. It’s time for you to disappear.”

  She brushed out her skirts and then took his hand. “As always, my safety is well kept in your hands.”

  But even as he began leading her out the door, she had to wonder if she could say the same about her heart.

  * * *

  Patrick winced as he led Millie into his space. It suited his needs, but he knew how she lived.

  If she’d held any romantic notions about him, about a life with him, this place was sure to dash them.

  He shouldn’t care.

  He’d told her the situation already and, besides, he was focused on his own future.

  But in his heart, he realized several critical facts.

  The first of which was that he was falling in love.

  Millie had stolen his heart.

  And even knowing what he wanted for the future, somehow he wanted her even more.

  She walked a few feet into his home and then stopped. Her gaze slid about the place, stopping on the single chair. “This is where you live?”

  “Yes,” he answered rotating his sore shoulder. He’d been injured more often than not, and he knew it wasn’t serious. He’d be sore, yes. And he’d likely have some colorful bruising but that was about the extent of it.

  She turned back to him, her hands running over his arm. “Are you terribly hurt? He hit you very hard.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ve suffered far worse.”

  She caught her lip between her teeth as she ran her hands along his shoulder. “Are you certain? You should take off your shirt so that I might check.”

  “In a minute,” he said. The very idea of stripping off his clothing made his insides curl in excitement. “Let’s get you settled in first.”

  “Settled in?” she asked. “How long am I staying?” She took a half step back, her head tilting to the side.

  “Just until your brothers make a plan to remove you from London.”

  She shook her head. “You’ve not thought this through.”

  Inwardly, he cringed. That was likely true. He’d made a snap judgement, partially because the lawyer was right. London was dangerous for Millie.

  But also, he hated the plans that were forming about her. He could be honest about that, at least with himself. “How so? What has occurred to you that hasn’t to me?” Likely a great deal.

  “What if Ben doesn’t want me to leave? What if he’s already got a suitor waiting in the wings. What if…” she gasped. “What if I’m ruined because of this?”

  Her hands came up to her mouth and then she dropped them again.

  Ruined? Several expletives rose to his lips, but he pushed them back down. He’d been thinking of her safety. And they’d been alone so often…

  But the thought should have been in the
forefront of his thoughts. “Then we’ll have to marry.”

  Her gaze snapped to his. “Have to marry?” Her arms crossed over her chest. “I’ve never heard something less appealing.”

  That cut deep. His fist clenched against his outer thigh as pain lanced through his chest. “I’m sorry you find being tied to me that revolting.”

  “I find being forced into anything revolting,” she snapped back. “You don’t sound all that thrilled either.”

  Her point was fair. “I’m not upset on my own behalf but yours. The mistake was mine—”

  “I’m a mistake?”

  He heard her voice catch and he winced. “That was a poorly chosen word. I was worried about your safety and I knew this was the most secure place for you.”

  He saw her relax a bit as she blew out a breath, her shoulders relaxing. “Thank you for your diligence. But now we need to decide what we shall do with my fire-breathing brothers.”

  “I’ve met Whitehaven. He seems reasonable.”

  Millie shook her head. “You’ll have to get to know him better.”

  He might have laughed if it weren’t all so serious. “Mayhap they’ll see my point of view. They did task me with your safety.”

  Millie waved him off. “Believe what you wish. Now take off your shirt. I want to look at your shoulder.”

  He stared at her for a moment before he did as she bid, untying his cravat and then shrugging off the linen fabric. He dutifully sat in the chair as she began to inspect his shoulder. Her fingers traced the skin that was already turning purple.

  “Oh, Patrick,” she murmured. “That must hurt.”

  “It’s all right,” he answered, looking up into her face. “I’ve suffered far worse.” He didn’t add “on a regular basis.”

  Her finger traced the edges of the bruise. Despite the tenderness of his skin, her light touch made him harden with desire. “Millie,” he grated out.

  “Hush,” she said, her hand sliding down his chest. “Can you lift your arm?”

  He did so, her hand gliding back over the damaged flesh. “Good.”

  And then she leaned down and placed a light kiss on the top of his head. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Millie,” he said, a warning ringing in her name.

  “Patrick,” she chastised back. Then she swallowed. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “If we have to marry. If my brother demands it…” she paused, her hand coming to the base of her neck. “Do you think you’ll hold some affection for me?”

  His mouth dropped open. That couldn’t be what concerned her? “Will I bear affection for you?”

  She nodded, then she leaned closer, her voice just above a whisper. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Anything,” he said back. He wanted to tell her that he held all the affection in the world for her. That he loved her. But she needed to talk now, even he could see that. And he’d listen. And then he’d tell her…everything.

  “I realized that I’d actually like to marry.” Her voice was so quiet, he could barely hear her. “It’s just that…”

  “What?” he reached out and hooked her waist, pulling her close. Seated as he was, her arms came about his neck even as he rested his cheek against her bosom. He could stay there forever. Even with the desire pulsing through him, the intimacy of the moment was even more powerful. His eyes drifted closed.

  “I’m afraid.”

  He held her tighter. “I’ve got you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “What if,” she started. “What if I’m unlovable?”

  His heart dropped. “Millie.” He tilted his head to look up at her. He’d tell her everything. His feelings. His fears.

  But a knock at the door interrupted his words. “Open this fucking door right now and give me my sister.”

  Justice. Irritation rippled through him. Well, wasn’t that just perfect.

  Chapter Twelve

  Millie heard her brother’s voice and sighed.

  Justice.

  She loved her brothers. All of them. But Justice was proving difficult.

  “Millie,” another voice growled. Ben.

  “Fiddlesticks,” she murmured.

  Patrick looked up at her. “What?”

  “That’s Ben,” she whispered back.

  “Millicent White,” A third man called. “Open up.”

  “Dez,” she said wincing. “You’d better let me get the door.”

  Patrick stood. “I don’t need you to protect me, Millie.”

  “Today you do,” she answered. “Besides, I’m only returning the favor.” And then she crossed to the door. “Who is it?” she called back sweetly.

  Growling, low and menacing was her first response. Then a sharp bang on the door. “Millie,” Justice barked. “I’ll break it down.”

  But it was Patrick who answered. “Not before I break you.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. There was little chance she was diffusing this situation. “I’m only opening the door if you promise to behave, Justice.”

  Silence.

  Finally, Ben answered. “He’ll resist the urge to commit violence. We’ve already beat it out of him.”

  Her mouth dropped as she turned the deadbolt and swung open the door. Her three brothers stood just on the other side, looking as bruised and battered as Patrick. “Did Parricide attack you too?” she asked in a rush.

  Justice sported a blooming black eye while Dez had a large scrape across his cheek.

  Ben, a large bruise on his jaw, stepped forward. “Parricide had little to do with it. How Justice allowed you to just waltz out the door…” Then he stepped into the large room. “Why the fuck don’t you have a shirt on?”

  Millie spun to see Patrick was still attempting to shrug the garment back on, his muscles rippling with the effort.

  She could confess that a shirtless Patrick had scrambled her thoughts and her fingers had been wandering beyond the boundaries of his injury. “Parricide hit him hard on the shoulder. I was checking the injury.” Then she crossed back to Patrick to help him with the garment. She heard her brothers shifting behind her.

  “You’re awfully comfortable touching him,” Dez said, his voice full of barely contained irritation. “I told Ben we shouldn’t leave you with Justice. It was a damned awful idea and as soon as I’ve caught my wind, he’s getting another beating.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she replied. “It’s not Justice’s fault.”

  “It is,” Ben returned. “And it’s mine. Dez was right.”

  “He wasn’t—”

  “Millie,” Ben cut her off. “You’re only fine because Cranston here is quick on his feet.” Then he sighed, looking at Patrick. “And it’s the only reason my fist isn’t buried in your face.”

  Patrick said nothing.

  Ben let out a long breath. “Millie, you’re to stay out of this from here on out.”

  “No.” The single word could have cut glass.

  Ben turned to her. “You’ll be married soon. Provided today did not ruin the opportunity and—”

  “Ben,” she stepped up to her brother. “I’m not marrying that man. Jensen, or whatever his name is.”

  Ben’s jaw clenched. “I’m aware.”

  She blinked. “You are?”

  “Yes,” he responded back. “How can you marry another man when Cranston has compromised you?”

  Sick dread filled her stomach. She was in love with Patrick but he…he didn’t return her affection. Sure, he’d said that he couldn’t support a wife but if he really cared about her…

  Patrick’s hand came to her back, then. “You want me to wed your sister?”

  “Can you think of a better option?” Ben returned.

  A pause.

  The silence pierced through her like a knife. Like she needed more affirmation that he didn’t wish to be her husband.

  “No, I can’t think of any other course of action. We’ll marry.”

  Ben gave a nod. “
Fine. With all four of us here, we’ll return to the house. If Parricide attacks again, we’ll be ready. Do we know what wants?”

  Patrick’s hand slipped around her waist. “He wants Millie.”

  “Why?” Dez asked. There was a hint of desperation in his voice.

  Ben looked at his brother. “Because he wants another in, most likely. He’s dependent on your ships. It could take months to infiltrate another operation.”

  “But how does Millie ensure he can ship his goods?”

  She shook her head. “Blackmail. He doesn’t give a whit about me.” Who did, really? “He just wanted to use me to get to Dez.”

  Justice and Dez shared a grim look as Ben rubbed his forehead. No one spoke a word for several seconds, the silence settling about them.

  It was Patrick who broke it. “Veritas suggested that Millie leave the city. That we tuck her on one of the ducal properties. I’m personally in favor of this plan.”

  Ben gave a nod. “Agreed.”

  Dez ran a hand through his hair. “I could use a trip up north. Fleur and I can go with them as chaperones.”

  Ben shook his head. “Travelling in a larger group is a good idea but Cranston and Millie won’t need a chaperone.” His arms crossed over his chest. “They’ll already be married.”

  “Do I get any say at all?” she replied, standing straighter.

  Ben’s jaw flexed. “In this? No.”

  “In this? Please. In what, exactly have I had a say?” Her chin notched as she stared at her eldest brother.

  “Millie,” Ben started. “You don’t understand what’s going on.”

  She snorted at that. “That’s complete horse dung. I understand everything. And in fact, there are some points which I know more about than you.”

  “Such as?”

  She reached into her reticule and pulled out the paper she’d found when she’d searched Labonte’s office. “I’ve cross referenced with father’s entries. Labonte was paying him. And look at the back.”

  Patrick’s hand dropped from her back. Cold air shivered down her spine at the loss of heat.

  Ben scanned the paper, front and back. “Where did you get this and what do you know of the books?”

  “I know you’re underestimating me,” she fired back.