His Wallflower White by Tammy Andresen

Chapter Twelve

Millie heardher 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.

His eyes were hard as stone. “Underestimate you? Certainly. You’ve been defying me and social convention at every turn.” His gaze lifted, meeting Patrick’s. “We’ll secure the license today. You’ll be wed tomorrow.”

Justice cleared his throat. “He’s interested in purchasing horseflesh from you, Ben.”

Ben’s jaw flexed again. “We’ll discuss the details of the transaction tonight. Right now, we’re going home.”

Transaction. That’s what her life was…a transaction. It was everything she feared.

She turned to Patrick. At least it was him. She could console herself with that. Could she gain his affection in time?

Her stomach twisted. Did she have anyone’s love?

But as she tried to meet his eye, to gain some sort of assurance, Patrick refused to meet her gaze.

“Let’s go,” he said. “We might as well get this over with.”

“Over with?” she whispered. “How perfect.”

* * *

Patrick triedto hold back his resentment.

He’d known that Millie didn’t want to marry. But lately…

Lately, he’d thought her position had softened.

And then there were the kisses.

Still, she’d been perfectly clear just now. She didn’t wish to marry him.

They moved around Millie even as he held out his elbow to her. Ben came to her other side, Justice in the front, Dez in the back. His horse was tied off to the back of the carriage and then they were off.

The carriage, though large, was not meant to hold four such large men and Millie was pressed into his side.

Her cheek came to rest on his shoulder, her eyes closed.

He was angry. Furious at the circumstances and hurt by her resistance. But at the press of her, he had a difficult time holding onto those feelings. And when he looked down and watched a silent tear down slip her cheek, his own chest constricted.

He tried to understand. She’d had a dream…one that had been dashed to bits.

Hell, that same thing was likely about to happen to him. Even if the duke sold him the horses, it would be a year or more to the first foaling. How would he support Millie until then? Return to the ring?

And then there was his sister. He wanted to support her, too. Bring her home to live with him. Would he ever be able to do it?

But the idea of his dream disappearing didn’t hurt nearly as much as he thought it would. In fact, now that it was happening…the idea of Millie being his…

He wrapped an arm about her shoulders, squeezing her closer. She’d need time to adjust, and he’d do her best to give her choices in their marriage. That’s what she’d been wanting all along.

She pressed deeper into his shoulder and her heard it then, a small catch in her throat. Her hands were twisted into her skirts and he knew she fought the emotions threatening to tumble out.

He held her closer still, the other three Whites staring at them. He ignored all three of them, wrapping his other arm about her. “It’s all right,” he softly murmured. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

Was she crying because she was being forced to marry him? He cringed at the thought. He’d comfort her regardless. If there was one thing he’d learned from his family it was that love was the answer. Terrible things happened when it was withheld.

A hand came up to cover her mouth as another little sob broke from her throat. “Patrick,” she gasped out, the sound muffled in his shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

Sorry? She was sorry? What for?

He wished he could pull her into his lap, but he was already taking a great many liberties. “There is no need to be sorry. You’re the one who should receive an apology.”

“No shit—” Justice started.

Dez smacked his brother’s knee. “Shut up,” he gritted out through his teeth.

She shook her head against his side, but she said nothing else. She kept her face buried for the rest of the ride.

And when they arrived back at Whitehaven’s townhouse, Patrick half lifted her out of the carriage and, with an arm under each of her elbows, helped her up the stairs and into the foyer.

Both duchesses rushed forward as soon as they entered, and in seconds, they’d whisked Millie up the stairs.

Patrick watched her go, his insides jumping with emotion. Regret. Longing.

“My study,” Ben said from next to him.

He gave a nod, falling in step behind the duke. Dez and Justice falling in line behind him. It felt a bit like a funeral march. His.

But the moment they entered the office, Ben tossed himself into a chair by the fire and gestured for Patrick to do the same.

Gingerly, he sat.

Dez and Justice sat on the settee along the far wall. This was not the meeting he’d expected.

“Is Millie all right?” Justice asked, his hands clasping.

Patrick’s brows lifted. “I’d like to speak with her to find out.”

Ben gave a tight nod. “There’s little harm in it now that you’re engaged.”

Justice ran a hand through his hair. “She’s always so strong. I didn’t expect…she took me by surprise…”

Patrick gave a nod of understanding. “I’m still getting to the bottom of it, but she seemed to want to prove her worth to all of you. That she was useful. She’s damned good with numbers, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. She’s not a bad sleuth either, her mind fits pieces together. She hoped to use those skills to help you with the dukedom. Keep the books. Solve problems.”

Ben’s jaw flexed but he didn’t respond to Patrick’s comment. After a moment, he took that as a signal to continue. “She called her childhood a cage and she’s afraid marriage will be the same trap.”

More silence.

Patrick shook his head. “She even talked with Veritas about supporting herself with the assets she’s collected.”

“What did father leave her?” Dez scrubbed his face. “I never asked her what was in her letter.”

“Our mother’s jewelry,” Ben said.

“Fuck,” Justice said. “She’s the richest of us all.”

Patrick started. She’d offered him a ring, but he’d assumed it wasn’t that valuable. Even after Veritas’s comments.

“Father would have sold them if he could,” Ben said. “Mother must have been explicit in her own wishes.”

Patrick sat forward. “She’s not actually wealthier than you, is she?”

Ben shrugged. “No, but so much of the wealth left is entailed. She’s got far more liquid cash. It’s something I’m rather short on.”

Patrick nodded. He took a breath. “Justice mentioned you’re looking to sell all or parts of your former business. I’ve saved 5000 pounds. What will that buy me?”

Ben raised his brows. “You’re about to leave the city with Millie. Is this the ideal time?”

Patrick straightened. “I can’t marry her without knowing I have a means of supporting her.”

Ben relaxed then. “You care for her.”

He did. “I’d not marry any woman without knowing I could provide.”

“I don’t just mean that part,” Ben waved his hand. “I could see it in the carriage. You bear an affection for my sister.”

He gave a stiff nod. This was not the group to declare the depth of his feelings. “I do.”

“Good.” Ben nodded. “My stock of horses is of the most excellent quality. Your sum will buy you a single one.”

His chest tightened. He should have known. Still, one good mare and he’d be able to breed. “All right.”

“But,” Ben held up a finger, “you’re about to be a rich man.”

“No,” he bit out. “I’ll not have my wife finance my future.”

Ben smiled. “Good.” Then he rubbed his hands together. “We’ll consider your money a deposit then. You’ll take over my business and you’ll pay me annually for the next…twenty years. Let’s say ten percent. That should give you plenty to live off of.”

Patrick blinked. “But don’t you need money now?”

“I do,” Ben regarded him with a steady eye. “But the advantage of being a duke is that creditors will be held at bay with a solid plan in place. And I’ve enough assets that I’m slowly selling to keep them happy.”

Patrick slumped back in his chair. There it was. His dream was coming true.

But somehow, it didn’t feel nearly as good as he’d hoped. Since meeting Millie, his wants had shifted, and without her affection, owning a business, fulfilling his dream, wasn’t nearly good enough.