His Wallflower White by Tammy Andresen

Chapter Six

Millie stood justinside the garden gate as the moon shined bright in the sky. While its cool light comforted her, she was aware that it was a detriment to nighttime prowling. Would Patrick still wish to break into Mr. Labonte’s?

She’d suffered all day from the vague feeling that he’d not come for this meeting tonight. The moon only heightened her worries.

Who could blame him if he didn’t wish to break the law for her benefit? But there was something else making her belly turn with nerves.

She’d tried to suss out her emotions.

He’d given her lovely compliments, the sort that had rung in her head half the night and all day. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d touched her hair, remembering his hands in the locks.

Strong and powerful, but achingly gentle.

She hadn’t even known a man’s hands could be that…kind.

Was he always so considerate?

And did men stay like that or did they…she stopped as she heard a noise nearby.

She tucked deeper into the shadow of the garden wall. Was it Patrick? A servant?

The crunch of gravel made her tuck lower to the ground, her cheek pressed against the cold stone of the wall.

“Millie?”

“Patrick,” she answered, partially rising again. “Is that you?”

“It’s me,” he answered.

“Oh good,” she breathed as she straightened up again.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I thought the moon might give us trouble.”

He opened the gate. “We’ll be fine. Come on. Let’s go.”

Millie had donned trousers once again but, without thought, she slipped her hand into his elbow. She could admit to herself that nerves flitted about her stomach and touching him…. She felt better.

He glanced over at her. “Millie,” a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Men don’t hold onto other men.”

“I know,” she whispered, scowling. “It’s just that…”

He stopped. “We’ll draw more attention to ourselves like this. People will remember two men hanging onto another. You should either don a skirt or walk like a man. Either way, we’ll blend in far better.”

He had a point. This is why she needed him to come with her. “Understood.” She slipped her fingers from his arm, but she missed the feel of him instantly.

His strength and heat made her feel safe and self-assured. Had she lacked in confidence before? She pressed her lips together. She was strong with her brothers and she chose to be silent when interacting with strangers, but that was because she hated to feel vulnerable.

They moved into the street where his horse was tied to a hitch. She quirked a brow. “We’re riding together?”

“That’s right.”

“Two men can ride a horse together but not walk arm in arm?”

He looked down at her. “Fair point.”

And then he reached about her waist and hoisted her up into the saddle.

He untied the animal and then climbed up behind her.

This time, the press of him wasn’t comforting, it was exciting. Breathtakingly so.

Was it the danger? Was it his touch last night?

She didn’t know but her body hummed everywhere he touched her, which was along her entire back and legs. Drat. This was going to be uncomfortable.

And delicious.

As the horse began to move, her body rolled against his with the rhythm. A few days prior she’d found pants liberating. But right now she wished for the layers of fabric that a skirt would provide. Because something hard pressed into her backside and the press of it stole her breath.

“It won’t take us long to get there,” he whispered close to her ear. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”

She swiveled her head to look back at him and immediately regretted the choice, his mouth achingly close to hers. She’d never kissed a man before, but she wondered what it would be like.

Would his lips be soft or firm? Would her mouth tingle the way her skin was at this very moment? “Anything pertaining to my father. I’m just trying to understand the vague outlines of what’s been going on.”

He gave a stiff nod. “We could turn back. It’s not too late.”

The concern in his voice snapped her out of her reverie. She pulled her chin further away from him. “And go home and do what? Sit and wait for my brothers to marry me off?”

He didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by her outburst. In fact, his arm tightened about her. “And you want your freedom.”

“Do you want to know what my brothers are planning? That I marry a rich merchant, one that could fill the ducal coffers.”

His hand fisted in the folds of her shirt. “Are they?”

She snorted. “Why can’t Justice marry some heiress? I hear America has loads of them. Let him sacrifice his entire future to save the dukedom.” But then just a bit of guilt niggled through her. She wasn’t trying to be selfish, just have a bit of choice in her entire future. Perhaps more than a bit.

“Just curious, but why does marriage equal sacrifice?”

She frowned, looking back at him. “What was your family like? Because being in mine was certainly a burden. And I can’t imagine a marriage that begins out of fiscal need will be much better.”

“Fair point,” he replied, his fingers relaxing again. “What will you do then, if not marry this man they’ve chosen?”

That was the hazy part. Chloe was an excellent pianoforte player. She might have been a professional musician if she hadn’t become a duchess.

But Millie’s only talent was keeping rough men in line. A job she rather liked, if she were being honest. But not one that she knew how to turn a profit with. Of course, there were numbers. She was good at those. And men could easily make a living with such a skill but a woman would never…unless Ben agreed to allow her to keep his books. “You don’t think annoying my brothers full time is an option, do you?”

He chuckled, low and quiet, but deep. “Only they can answer that, but I can tell you that some man would surely enjoy having you…annoy him full time.”

She sighed then. He was right and so were her brothers. Marriage likely was her best option. “But how will I know if he’s a good man? This theoretical husband.”

Patrick was silent for a while. So long she looked back at him. “I honestly don’t know. I thought my father was a good man until he sent my sister away.”

“Sent your sister away?” She laid her hand over his. “Why would he do that?”

* * *

Patrick could have cursed himself.Why had he just shared that? But he couldn’t take it back now. “She was…simple.”

Millie sucked in her breath. “I see.”

“But a sweeter person you’ve never met in your life.” He looked down at the ground. “They don’t even visit her. Can you believe that? It’s like she never existed.”

“You visit her, though?” Millie asked. Her voice soft. Neutral.

“Every month,” he answered. “It’s the rest of them I don’t see anymore.”

She didn’t answer at first and then she pushed up on the saddle, her head still twisted around toward him. Her lips came within an inch of his, where she hesitated for a moment. She was going to kiss him.

Every muscle tightened as she hesitated.

Was she about to change her mind?

He didn’t want to risk such a change of fate and so he closed the last inch between them ignoring the voices that said he shouldn’t.

Justice was partially right. Only the best sort of man was good enough for her and he was stealing this kiss. He couldn’t help himself just as he’d been unable to resist plaiting her hair the night before.

Her lips were pliant under his, full and plush, her floral scent wrapping about him.

He pulled back a bit and then kissed her again, her mouth clinging to his, their breath mingling.

Like everything with Millie, this was different. He’d kissed a hundred women before, but never like this. The touch of her mouth branded his soul.

Or perhaps she had already.

He was traipsing about London with an unmarried lady.

He drew back, staring down at her dewy lips and hooded eyes, highlighted by the full light of the moon.

She stole his breath. “Millie,” he said, his voice rough with the emotion coursing through him.

Her lips pressed together. “Should I not have done that? I’m sorry. I…” she reached up and touched her mouth. “I’ve never…”

He knew what she meant. She was a complete innocent, unlike him. He’d not take advantage of that. More than he had already. “Millie, the fault is mine.”

She gave a tiny nod, barely a jerk of her chin. Fortunately, they were spared discussing it further when Labonte’s office came into view.

He turned his horse down an alley and then they slipped toward Labonte’s door.

This had been the part Patrick was less certain about. He’d picked a lock or two in his day, but he was by no means an expert. They might very well be stopped at the door. He’d not break a window or the jam to get in. His goal was to leave without anyone ever knowing they’d been there.

He ran a hand along the frame, noting there was no deadbolt. Trying the handle, he chuckled when the door clicked open, swinging into the office. “The egit doesn’t lock his door.”

Millie slipped past him. “All the better for us.” She started straight through the waiting room heading for the back office.

Several cabinets lined the wall. Millie made her way toward the last one.

“You’ll not start with the first?” he asked, following her.

“Our last name is White,” she offered by way of explanation.

He shook his head, his shoulders relaxing. She had him there.

“Aha,” she said pulling a thick folder from the stack carrying it over to the desk. She opened it. “Can you light a candle?”

He did and watched as she thumbed quickly through the documents.

“What do you see?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Well, my father has never paid Labonte a farthing as far as I can tell.”

“What?” That made no sense.

“But at the back, on very unofficial parchment is a list of transactions, monthly, that Labonte paid to my father.” Her mouth tightened. “And several of them match the mysterious additions our barrister was concerned about.”

“You’re certain they match?”

She nodded absently, still studying the neat columns. “I’ve a good memory for them.” Then, Millie took the page, flipping it over. Then she gasped. “Labonte must not be at all concerned about being caught.”

“Why?” he asked moving closer.

“Because…” she shook her head. “On the back is a very poorly versed poem on the advantages of whisky and wine.”

Patrick stopped. “Whisky and wine?”

“My brother’s ship. His second in command had been using the boat that carried gunpowder to the front lines to bring illegal wine back. We know there’s some connection between Will Parricide and my father. The question is what. Was he part of the wine smuggling? And then there was speculation that my father’s five boats, currently not in use, were used for transportation of illegal whisky from Scotland.”

Patrick scratched his chin. “If your father had five boats, why not just have one of them carry the wine?”

“Because of the war, of course,” she said in a distracted tone. “Only ships involved in the war effort can travel to France. Must make smuggling wine very profitable.” Her gaze skimmed the paper again. “This isn’t direct proof, but it’s as close as we’ll get.”

“What will you do with it?”

She carefully tucked the sheet in her pocket. “I’m still deciding that.”

“What’s to decide?” he asked as she replaced the rest of the file.

She shrugged. “How best to use my information to purchase more time.”

He snuffed out the candle and then placed an arm about her as he made his way to the door. Peeking out to make certain the street was empty, they dashed to his horse and started back for her home.

Though it had been several minutes, he picked up the conversation once they were well clear of Labonte’s. “Time for what?”

“To figure out how I will make a life without a husband, of course.” Time to convince her brothers she was a valuable asset to the dukedom.

He couldn’t help it, his stomach dropped. Millie was not for him. He’d known that. Was it better or worse to think of her always alone?

He wasn’t certain. Nor did he know if she’d actually succeed. Part of him wished for her to have her heart’s desire. He knew she’d suffered as a child. But part of him had another thought entirely…it was a shame that Millie didn’t wish to wed. Because there was so much heart and passion under her hard shell.