Her Wanton White: Dark Duke’s Legacy Page 3

  “Uncle Albert,” she gasped.

  Justice winced. It was to her credit that she didn’t wish to speak ill of her father, but the situation did seem to merit the act. Perhaps he was biased, though. He never hesitated to think ill of the man who’d sired him.

  “I love him. He’s my brother. He’s not cruel and he doesn’t mean to be unkind. But he has the ridiculous notion that the entire world is here to serve his needs.”

  He couldn’t see Violet, but he heard the pain in her voice when she spoke. “Still. I am his daughter and am required to do as he bids.”

  Justice heard the general’s elbows thump on the desktop. “You are required to secure your own future. Your father has proven he won’t do it for you. At least not well. That Macklemeyer is a snake in the grass, and I’ll figure out the hows and the whys of what he does and with whom. In the meantime, you find another suitor.”

  “I’ll try,” she said. The swishing of her skirts told Justice the interview was almost done. “Thank you, Uncle. For everything. I feel much relieved to know that I have someone else to rely on.”

  Justice grimaced as he eased off the wall. She appeared to be as gentle as she was beautiful. The sort of woman a man like Parricide would grind into dust.

  Somehow, he hated that notion, but there was little he could do. He had his own problems. And besides, her uncle could certainly take care of his niece. The other man had the situation well in hand. What was more, Justice had discovered an excellent ally. A general.

  “Poppet,” the general said as his footsteps sounded around the desk. “Don’t give up hope. If that doesn’t work, we’ll find another way.”

  “I know,” she answered. “But sincerely, what if Papa ends up in prison? There aren’t that many men willing to pay for my hand.”

  Justice nearly growled with malcontent. So, Parricide was buying her hand to save her father from his debts. Well, wasn’t that just shitty.

  And something his own father would have absolutely done.

  “You underestimate yourself.”

  “I haven’t much to offer—” she whispered.

  “You’re beautiful, kind and accomplished. There are plenty of men out there looking for a bride like you.” General Wright cleared his throat. “I’ll keep your father out of prison. What we’re working on now is keeping you from a different sort of cage.”

  The truth of those words settled over Justice even as he started down the hall. He’d already gotten answers for his two most pressing questions but that had only spurred more. If the general wasn’t in league with Parricide, would he be an ally in Justice’s fight? Should he ask?

  He quickly made his way back the parlor, stretching himself back out on the settee. Moments later, niece and uncle appeared in the entry.

  In the light of day, he noted Violet’s hair was a bit redder than he’d first thought, her eyes a greenish shade of hazel.

  Her lips were lush and full and her face…a delicate beauty with high cheek bones and eyes that were a touch sultry. Her lips parted softly as their eyes met. “Lord Justice, it was a pleasure to see you again.”

  “And you, as well,” he answered, giving a short bow even as his gaze lingered. In another life, he might have pursued a woman like this.

  General Wright gave him a keen eye. “Lord Justice, are you available for dinner this evening?”

  Justice didn’t need to ask to know that Lady Violet would be invited as well. And that her uncle had identified another potential suitor.

  How did he explain that he had no intention of marrying and even less appetite for buying a bride by paying off her father’s gambling debts? If he even had the funds. He had a nice nest egg set aside but he doubted it compared to the amount of money that Parricide had access to with his illegal operations.

  Nor did he have any desire to wed. Hadn’t he proven long ago he was a heathen? A man with his father’s blood flowing through his veins?

  How vexed would Parricide be if he realized they were courting the same woman?

  A twinge of guilt twisted in his stomach as Violet’s hazel eyes met his again. A question crinkled the corners. They silently asked if he was interested.

  The answer was no.

  He ignored the pull of her beauty and the urge to tuck her back under his arm. She wasn’t his to protect and he didn’t want a wife.

  Which was the only way a man could ever have a woman like Violet.

  But he could pretend. Use this as a tool against Parricide.

  And so, he smiled, sitting straighter. “Dinner? I’d be delighted.”

  Violet sat at the dinner table, quietly eating her soup.

  She’d been raised to be quiet in front of a group of men. Manners and such.

  But tonight, no one was talking.

  Her father had huffed and blustered that this evening was entirely unnecessary. Macklemeyer had returned and they’d best not do anything that might frighten the man away again.

  Her uncle had stoically insisted that his niece should have a choice.

  Her father had attempted to refuse, but her uncle had reminded him that as the benefactor of her social calendar, it was at his discretion. He would decide the necessity of such dinners and he insisted.

  Her father did not like being trumped by his younger brother even if that brother was a general and in charge of thousands of men. He’d blustered and raged and attempted to yell his will into being.

  And all of this was before Lord Justice had arrived.

  Justice had swept in, handsome and dashing and…quiet. He was not a man who filled the void of silence with conversation. He let it settle around them, only raising a brow as he stared at each of them in turn.

  Violet saw no other choice. She’d have to smooth over the evening.

  “Lord Justice,” she asked, forcing a smile despite their tension. The moment their eyes met however, she both tensed and relaxed.

  The energy coming from his eyes made her heart flutter, but it also made her worries over her family melt away.

  “Miss Wright,” he returned, his smile exposing a dimple on his cheek that made heat flush her cheeks.

  “Is your family in Dover, as well?”

  He shook his head. “They’ve all gone to another of my brother’s properties. I can’t remember which.”

  “You didn’t go with them?” she asked, leaning a bit closer. Violet was always with family. To separate from them would be…interesting.

  He shook his head. “No. I love them, of course, but I’m used to being independent. I can only tolerate so much togetherness before I need a bit of time to myself.”

  “I heard you were a fighter,” her father interjected. “I can see how that might lead to an independent spirit.” He did not sound as though he approved.

  Violet looked over at her father. On their first meeting of Lord Justice, he’d seemed interested in the man. But now she wasn’t so certain. His air was almost accusatory.

  “I was independent before my boxing days,” Justice said lightly. “Flows in my blood. All of my brothers are the same.”

  “Family trait,” her uncle added mildly. “We’ve got a few of those.”

  “I’ve heard that a great deal of gambling accompanies boxing,” her father pressed, his brow furrowing.

  Justice didn’t look at all concerned as he leaned casually in his chair “It’s the country’s pastime. Gaming goes with everything.”

  “My brother understands that,” the general muttered into his glass of wine. Everyone heard him anyway.

  “Are there any other illegal activities you’re involved in?” Her father grated out his voice harsh and accusatory.

  Violet gasped. “Papa!”

  “Hush,” he chided, not looking at her.

  Violet’s lips pressed together as Justice gave her a long stare, his gaze assessing. “My brothers and I manufacture gunpowder, my lord, which we ship to the front lines of the war. My business is open and honest and one of my partners is my brother, the Du
ke of Whitehaven.” The threat was clear. To accuse a duke of such a crime could mean her father, a lowly viscount might have to face the duke’s wrath.

  Her father cleared his throat. “Of course. My apologies if I’ve offended.”

  “No apologies needed.”

  Violet stared at Lord Justice. His jaw held a confident tilt while his body relaxed in an easy position. He appeared completely assured in what he was saying and unruffled by her father’s accusations. Either he was innocent or so guilty that he lied with ease. Either way, she found him completely exciting. Compelling.

  Not only was she already drawn to him, but something about her father’s dislike only heightened her interest. She thought to what her uncle had said earlier. It was time for her to secure her future. What did she want?

  Justice’s gaze locked on hers again and he gave her a confident…smirk, one corner of his mouth lifting.

  She wanted to know what if felt like to defy her father.

  She wanted to know what it might feel like to be held in a man’s arms. A man like Lord Justice.

  The very idea stole her breath.

  Violet was quiet, obedient, family oriented. Where were these thoughts coming from? But then again, if she didn’t start thinking for herself, she’d wind up the wife of the off-putting Erwin Macklemeyer.

  The soup was carried away and the next course served. The rest of the meal passed more amicably and when it was done, the men rose to the garden to smoke their cheroots while she retired to the front parlor. It held a pianoforte, and she began to lightly play as she considered her options.

  She wasn’t such a fool as to allow herself to be ruined.

  But she’d like to marry a man who made her pulse quicken, who seemed easy and confident, not fake and secretive.

  Rising from the bench, she crossed to the window to see if she could catch a glimpse of glowing cigar tips in the moonlight.

  Had Lord Justice come because he was interested in courting her?

  Her pulse raced at the very idea and nibbled her lip as her hands pressed to her stomach. Perhaps her uncle had the right of it, inviting the man here tonight.

  But how would she know? Directness was not always her strong suit and yet she was running out of time.

  Before she could formulate a plan, however, the door to the parlor squeaked. She turned to see why and then nearly jumped in the air.

  Standing in the doorway was Lord Justice. He filled the opening, his dark eyes fixed on her. “Hello.”

  Was he lost? “Hello.”

  “May I join you for a moment?”

  Her lips parted, the word no, rising to them. It had been clear from all their meetings that he hadn’t been in society much but surely he understood the need to be chaperoned? “I don’t think—”

  “It’s just that we’ve not had a chance to speak at all.” And then he gave her another disarming grin, his dimple showing on his cheek.

  She pressed her fingers into her stomach. “Forgive me, my lord, but I must decline. There are proper methods for a man and a woman to spend time together.”

  The grin widened. “I’m not much for proper.”

  Something deep and low inside her pulsed. No, he didn’t seem proper at all. If she were being honest, she found that trait rather…arresting. “All the same, my lord. It’s for your protection as much as mine.”

  He leaned against the door jamb then, giving a single nod of acknowledgement. “Fair enough. Then allow me to ask if you would be interested in a picnic with me. Tomorrow. Or the day after.”

  “A picnic?” Of all the things she’d expected him to say, that had been the last. “Forgive me, but do you picnic regularly?”

  He chuckled then. “I can’t say that I do.”

  She didn’t mean to, but she stepped closer. “That’s a relief of sorts.”

  “How do you mean?” His brows rose as his gaze seemed to take in every detail.

  Heat filled her cheeks again. “You seem more of the out on the deck of a ship or scrapping in a back-alley sort.”

  “Both very true.” He winked. “And what type are you, Miss Violet?”

  She took another step toward him. “You tell me. It’s only fair, after all.”

  His arms crossed as he cocked his head to the side. “Hmmm. You are the very definition of a lady. Grace and manners and beauty.”

  She knew the heat in her cheeks had turned them pink.

  “You do exactly as you’re supposed to.”

  A frown pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Said like that, I sound rather dull in comparison.”

  He pushed off the jamb then, closing much of the distance between them in a single step. “It holds a certain appeal.”

  She pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth. “To you?”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Miss Wright—Violet— I’d like to meet the man who did not find you appealing.”

  It wasn’t exactly an answer. At least not the one she’d hoped. His description of her only confirmed her feelings earlier. “Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to…”

  He shifted. A subtle move but one that brought him close enough that Violet could feel the heat he radiated. His scent wrapped about her. He smelled of fresh sea air and pine with a hint of something masculine underneath. “To what?”

  Dare she say it? He was tempting her. Tempting her to express her desire to break away. But he hadn’t declared any interest in her and she had the vague sense that he was dangerous. Especially to her.

  She opened her mouth to say she wasn’t certain but was spared answering when a knock sounded at the front door.

  Chapter Four

  Damn the woman.

  Every time Justice spoke with Violet, spent time with her, he grew more…interested.

  What was she going to say?

  She had this perfect veneer. Lovely and flawless. Which appealed to him simply because sometimes, he himself felt so…broken.

  But underneath her exterior, something simmered. He didn’t know what yet. Was it passion, desperation, a wild rebelliousness? The only thing he knew for certain was that he wished to find out.

  Justice could never be with someone perfect for long, so the idea that there was more to Violet, intrigued and delighted him. He drew up taller, standing against such feelings. What was he thinking? He could never be with anyone for long. He was meant to be a free man who used his fists to fight from one end of England to the other.

  But damned if he wasn’t tempted to try and peel back a few of Violet’s layers and find out what lay beneath.

  The knock at the door irritated him beyond belief and he swore under his breath at such an interruption. He was on the cusp of removing one of those layers.

  He’d only stepped inside the room for a moment. He wasn’t supposed to be here talking to Violet at all. Which meant he needed to leave. With a last look at her sparkling hazel eyes, Justice turned and stepped out of the room, making his way over to the hall before the butler appeared to open the door.

  Staying out of sight, he was surprised to see a lone woman enter, tall and pretty enough behind her spectacles. He heard Violet’s cry. “Samantha!”

  She stepped out of front room as well, and though he’d just seen her, his gaze was instantly drawn to her once again.

  The two women embraced as Samantha squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m so happy to see you.”

  Justice would have liked to know more about their relationship and who Samantha was to Violet, but he’d done enough eavesdropping and so he turned back to the garden and the men he’d left for far too long already.

  Lord Smithfield gave him a hard stare as he approached. “Where have you been?”

  The man didn’t trust him, that much was clear. And he’d put money on the fact that Parricide had filled Smithfield’s head with all sorts of lies. Not that Justice blamed him. At least not on this account. Justice himself had planned to defame Parricide’s character, only rightfully so. The rat had beaten him though, and now Smithfiel
d thought Justice was the villain.

  Time would prove otherwise, with Justice’s help, of course.

  “You’ve another visitor,” he said by way of answer.

  “Another visitor?” General Wright turned toward him. “Who?”

  He shrugged, thinking it best to not reveal what he’d overheard. He and the general were still feeling each other out. Neither had given anything of consequence away during their meeting this morning and the same was true tonight. “I couldn’t say. Tall young woman. Glasses.”

  “Samantha?” The general’s brow furrowed.

  “Our niece?” Smithfield asked, stubbing out his cigar. “What would she be doing here? Now?”

  Justice grimaced. Clearly family business was about to interrupt his evening. He shouldn’t mind. He’d come to express interest in Violet and her father had made it all but clear that he didn’t wish for Justice to court his daughter. He’d have to find another way to gain access to Parricide. “I should take my leave.”

  General Wright gave a quick nod but then he stopped, giving Justice a more assessing stare. “Stay for a bit.”

  Justice readily agreed, despite the dark look that Viscount of Smithfield gave him. He had no better options for finding Parricide. He could only hope that an answer would present itself.

  A little voice added that he also just wanted to see Violet. He liked her. A warm sensation rippled through him as he pictured her face.

  But ignoring that voice, he followed the two men.

  He almost instantly regretted his decision. Because in the brief time he’d been gone, Samantha whatever her name was had begun…crying.

  And watering pot women where not his specialty.

  He stiffened, flexing his neck as he heard her explain that her mother had passed, and debt collectors had cleaned out the house before she could blink an eye.

  Lord Smithfield and General Wright had a sister and she seemed as bad with money as her eldest brother.

  Realization dawned on him.

  If he couldn’t gain access through Violet…

  The watering pot might do.

  He flinched, hating the plan. Even now, he had the urge to step up next to Violet, currently holding the crying woman in her arms. He’d like to feel Violet’s skin. Touch her hair. Hear the answer to his question he’d asked before they were interrupted.