His Wallflower White by Tammy Andresen

Chapter Four

Millie peeked down the hall,once again checking to make certain no one would see her enter Ben’s study. She’d decided to search the piles once again. It was the only place she might garner information.

A bit of guilt niggled through her belly to think that she was breeching his trust. They’d been estranged for years and had only recently reconnected.

But she pushed that thought aside.

This was about her future.

With that in mind, she pushed open the door, tiptoeing back into the room. And she began looking through all the stacks again.

Starting with the ones that involved the dukedom.

And what she found astounded her. Because while there were still assets, and profits, there were massive expenditures from the mammoth gothic revival home her father had built. There were also, according to one barrister, mysterious sums that were added to the accounts without explanation. But they’d stopped upon her father’s death, leaving a large debt yet to be paid.

What did it all mean?

Was her brother Ben in trouble? She nibbled at her lip. Perhaps Ben needed the jewelry more than she did. Had offering the diamond to Patrick been a mistake?

Then again, solving these mysteries could only help her brother.

She thrummed her fingers on the desk as she read through several more pieces of correspondence.

The unexplained entries had begun fifteen months prior. Sporadic sums of varying amounts. Then another sheet caught her eye. Ben had been drawing out a timeline with Dez’s business.

She squinted as she noted that her brother Dez had promoted his second in command, Will Parricide, fifteen months prior as well. Surely that was a coincidence?

Except for that two weeks ago, Dez had discovered that Will had been stealing from him, using his position on Dez’s ships to bring in smuggled wine from France. Is that what they’d been searching for last night? Stolen wine?

She sat back in the chair, her brow wrinkling.

How might she prove or disprove that the sums of money were connected to Parricide?

She didn’t know that she could.

But there was one man she could talk with and that was her father’s architect. The two were exceptionally close and though she’d have to be careful, she might be able to glean some information from him. If her father had been involved in something, he’d have known.

Thumbing through the last stack of papers, she found a letter that identified five ships belonging to the dukedom, one of which Ben had given to Dez to keep his business operational. On a piece of parchment just beneath was a note in Ben’s handwriting.

What was the original use of these ships? Smuggling whisky?

She gasped.Clearly her brothers also suspected smuggling.

Voices in the hall caught her attention and she straightened the papers, her heart jumping into her throat. Holding a hand over her chest, she came around the desk.

She’d just made it to the other side when Justice pushed open the door. He stopped, glaring at her for a moment. “What are you doing in here?”

She pasted on her best smile. “Looking for ink. I’ve correspondence that needs attending.”

Justice grunted as he continued into the room. “You’re right. Being a woman is bloody boring.”

Her expression relaxed into something far more genuine. She appreciated the sentiment but just this moment, her life had become far less dull. “May I ask what are you doing in here?”

He quirked a brow. “What does it look like? Running a fucking dukedom while the actual duke goes out and plays with his horses.”

“Ben is out playing with horses?” She leaned her hip onto the desk, curious about Justice’s meaning.

Justice grunted. “I jest. There is some deficit in the books. I think he’s going to sell his old business to help support the dukedom. See, we’re all doing our part. Yours is marrying that Jensen fellow.”

Millie ignored the reference to the man they wished for her to marry. She wanted to know as little as possible about the man so she chose another question, about Ben, though she was already well aware of the answer. “His old business?”

“Ben used to breed horses to support himself before he inherited the title.”

Her eyes widened. Ben loved being a horse trader. “He’s going to sell?” And clearly, the deficit she’d discovered in the dukedom was no secret.

And it explained Ben’s insistence on marrying her to a wealthy man. She winced. She truly wanted to help but not like that.

Justice grunted. “Despite what I just said, I’m not sure I envy him. I always thought being the heir was the preferred position. But the more I think on it, the more I wonder.”

“It’s a burden,” she answered. “Even I can see that.”

Justice nodded. “You know he gave Dez a boat to keep us all in business?”

“I do.”

“Despite his money problems, he offered Dez all five of them.” Justice came around and sat at the desk. “Bloody good of him.”

“Dez didn’t accept?”

Justice shook his head. “You know Dez. Independent as hell. Says he’s going to buy them from Ben. But if the war ends, I’m not sure what we’ll be shipping.”

Her heart twisted in her chest. Apparently, all of the Whites were struggling with the future. “Not gunpowder?” she asked, suddenly wishing she could do more to help the dukedom, but would her brothers let her run the ledgers? Trust her with the accounting? It would free Ben to work on other streams of revenue.

Justice shrugged. “There will still be a need, of course, but not as great. And Sayden’s damn good at making it, but it isn’t the safest business. I for one would prefer he take fewer risks.”

Her mouth twisted, realizing that all her brothers faced financial hardship. And Sayden faced far more than that. No wonder they wished for her and Esme to find husbands and marry. For the first time, she considered what not marrying did to them. She winced.

“Is there anything I can do?”

He raised his brows. “Besides the obvious?”

“Obvious?”

“Marry the merchant. Maybe we could even ship his goods.”

She blinked, trying to clear the irritation that rose up like bile. “My possible contribution is to marry a man? I couldn’t possibly do something myself?” Like actually making their money work for them.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” she tilted her chin at a defiant angle. “I’m smart, too. Good with numbers and ledgers.”

Justice grunted but his look grew wary. “I didn’t mean it as an insult, Millie. Would you like to research new businesses? Negotiate a new contract? Find a new product for Sayden to produce?”

She gave Justice a hard stare. “I’m capable of more than just slipping a ring on my finger, you know.”

“What’s your objection to marriage? You know I’ve noticed.” He leaned back in the chair, kicking one foot up on the desk, directly onto one of Ben’s neat stacks.

She sniffed. “I don’t—"

“Yes you do,” he fired back despite his relaxed position.

Her heart had begun to pound in her chest, a lump clogging her throat. “You got to leave.”

“What?”

Her eyes burned as she considered her answer. What was the harm in telling the truth? After his comments last night, he already understood. At least partially. “Father. You got to leave. I never did. And when I marry… I won’t be able to leave that cage either. I’ll be trapped.”

His foot dropped to the floor and he sat up so suddenly that an entire pile scattered to the floor. “I see.”

She looked down at Ben’s careful work. “We’d better clean those up.”

Justice gave a silent nod as he bent over.

“I’ll do it,” she said as she came around the desk and dropped to her knees. She already knew the order they should be placed in. And in this moment, she actually appreciated Justice’s silence. It was an acceptance of sorts that she hadn’t expected.

But as she finished neatly restacking the papers in more of less the same order they’d been in, Justice finally spoke. “What then?”

“What, what?”

“What will you do if you don’t wed?”

It was a good question. And as she set the papers back on the desk, she gave the only answer that came to mind. “Anything I want.”

* * *

Patrick leanedagainst the carriage house, carefully tucked into a shadow as the carriage pulled around to collect the women.

He’d been warned they’d be leaving by one of the footmen. And as the carriage started, he grabbed the back and took the other seat reserved for servants. The staff was aware of his position, though, and so was Millie.

The charade was a bit like an onion in its layers.

But as the carriage rumbled from Mayfair into Cheapside, he wondered where they were headed. The ladies had not ventured further than the local shops since arriving in the city. Were they visiting a merchant perhaps? Had the new duchess chosen fabric for her curtains? He smiled. Had she gone with silk?

The idea made him shake his head. Thinking back to Justice’s comments from the night before last making him chuckle to himself. The man was still wild, barely broken. Patrick had been just like him, chafing at a father that didn’t really care about the spare. Certainly hadn’t provided for his second son, or any of his children beyond the heir. Patrick’s sister had it far worse than Patrick could even imagine. What was more, he’d wanted to punch out a great deal of his anger.

But somewhere over the past few years, his temper had cooled. Now all he wished for was a quieter life full of...what?

The carriage slowed and he jumped down, slipping into the shadows as the vehicle stopped.

He watched the women exit and then enter a small shop. “Labonte’s Architecture?” he muttered. “What the hell are they going there for?”

Coming around the building, he peeked into the window and watched as Millie sat with the former duchess in a small waiting area. Then a door opened, and an older man waved them into what was clearly his office. Patrick looked around but saw no one else so he slowly opened the door and slipped into the waiting area.

The room was dark and relatively cool. Posh, overstuffed furniture sat to one side, the highly polished wood catching glints of the sun. The man had money.

“Good to see you, too,” Millie was saying.

“What can I help you with today, Lady Millicent?”

There was a short pause. “I wished to speak with you about my father. I know how close you were to him.”

“Of course. My condolences.”

“Thank you,” Millie replied. “And may I just add, the house you built for him is stunning.”

The other man chuckled. “It is, isn’t it? One of my finest accomplishments.”

“Indeed,” a different woman answered. “I enjoyed my brief stay there.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Labonte answered. “I don’t need to tell you how important it was to your late husband to build that temple to God and to a belief in moral standards that is slipping from our society.”

There was a pregnant pause before Millie cleared her throat. “My father certainly held morality in high regard.”

Patrick could hear the edge in her voice, the bitterness. Or was that his imagination? But her next words answered his question. “Mr. Labonte, you don’t think my father would have ever engaged in any illegal behavior?”

Mr. Labonte cleared his throat, a blustering sound. “Of course not. What a ridiculous question. Why would you ask such a thing?”

Another pause. “No reason. Something he mentioned in his will. He wants us to right any wrongs and I’d hate to disappoint him by not following his instructions to the letter.”

The other man chuckled then. “Oh, I see. That does make sense. Your kindness is admirable, but your brothers will surely sort all of that out.”

“My brothers.” Millie leaned forward. “They are all working hard and I wish to help them, Mr. Labonte. Perhaps you could help me help them?”

Patrick’s brows raised. He’d seen a few sides of Millie but this one was new. Subtle and delicate, she softened the other man. Patrick hoped never to have to face this side of her. He’d never survive it. She’d have him wrapped about her finger in no time.

The other man shifted causing his chair to squeak. “Well, in his younger days, he caused a bit of trouble. Much like Lord Justice and Lord Sayden.”

Millie nodded. “Smuggling?”

The other man choked. “What would you give that idea?” His voice rose with each word. “Don’t say things like that about your father, young lady.”

Millie stood abruptly, the other two women following suite. “You’re right, of course. Forgive me. And thank you for your time today. It’s much appreciated.”

Patrick turned and left the shop, slipping out the door before Millie could make her way out. But they’d discuss this meeting later. He didn’t know how yet, but he had a few ideas. Millie wasn’t the only one capable of sneaking about.