Her Wanton White: Dark Duke’s Legacy Page 5

  “My pleasure,” he rumbled back with a benign sort of grin that gave nothing away.

  “It’s not necessary,” she tried again, looking for some clue as to his motivation.

  He pulled her just a touch closer. Was that some sort of sign? “I’m on a bit of a break from my normal duties and free to pursue whatever takes my fancy.”

  “And what has taken your fancy?” Samantha asked from just behind them. Before he could answer, however, she spoke again. “What are your normal duties?”

  He opened his mouth again, but Samantha was off now, and Violet had to grin. She ought to take a leaf from her cousin’s book and just ask what she wished to know.

  “Come to think of it, what is your business? Who do you work with? Why are you on a break?”

  “Samantha.” Violet looked over her shoulder, winking at her cousin. “Give the man a chance to speak. Would you prefer he answer in the order you asked? He’s going to have to take notes if you pepper him with any more questions.”

  He smiled. “You, Miss Wright, are a manager of people. Never forget that.”

  Warmth spread through her. Whatever reason he’d chosen to compliment her, she appreciated the words a great deal. “Thank you, my lord.”

  With a nod, he looked back at Samantha. “I make gunpowder with my brothers. Well, to answer multiple questions at once, I don’t actually manufacture. My job is to keep the gunpowder from being stolen or damaged by competitors. My brother Sayden creates the product, and my brother Destrian ships it.”

  “What interesting names,” Samantha murmured.

  “My father was an interesting man.” She felt his muscles flex under her hand, his fist clenching at the words. Did he not like his father either? “Biblical some of them. Like the eldest, Benedict. Others are more life lessons, like my name for example. But either way, my father wanted God to love him.”

  Samantha paused. “You didn’t mean that he loved God, did you?”

  “No.” Justice snorted. “He was far too self-centered for that.”

  Samantha gave a silent nod. “May I ask again why you’re on a break?”

  Justice’s mouth tightened. Even Violet noticed it. “My brothers would prefer I was with them, I’m sure. But…” he pulled her a bit closer once again. “With the war near an end, I need to do a bit of searching to help clear the path for the future.”

  “You mean your future business prospects?” Violet asked.

  She noted his slight wince. Her own heart skipped to match it. “That and put some old demons to rest.”

  “Is Macklemeyer one of the demons?” Samantha asked, moving to Justice’s other side.

  He stopped glancing over at her, the cords of his neck growing taut. “Why would you think that?”

  “Your warning to Violet not to marry him,” Samantha said simply.

  Justice slowly turned, letting out a long slow breath. “He’s not a good man.”

  “Tell me why,” Samantha replied, her gaze flitting to Violet’s.

  Violet wanted to ask more questions. Wished to know what information Justice had. But in this moment, all she could feel was relief. Someone understood and agreed with her. And that someone was Justice White. The man who made her heart pound in her chest.

  “I’ll tell you more soon, but I think I should speak with your uncle first. There are matters of your safety that need to be addressed.”

  Violet nodded, her insides clenching with dread and hope. Could she find her way out of this match with Macklemeyer? “You’ll tell him what you know tonight?”

  “I will,” Justice answered. “But I don’t know that it will help. In terms of your father, I’m not sure my word will matter. He’s taken a dislike to me while he fancies Macklemeyer.”

  “Speaking of self-serving,” Samantha muttered. “I wonder how his opinion would change if you offered a great deal of money for Violet’s hand?”

  Justice cleared his throat. “You know what would happen. He’d likely switch allegiances. Sorry, Miss Wright.”

  Her chin dipped. Because it both hurt to realize everyone saw how little her father cared about her, and how selfish his interests were. But she also noted that Lord Justice had not rushed in to make any concrete offers. “After you speak with our uncle, would you be willing to give us some additional information?”

  Samantha nodded. “Please. Uncle Albert truly means well but he may or may not keep us informed. He’s got a military attitude toward secrets and leaking information he doesn’t deem completely necessary.”

  Justice gave a single nod. “Of course. Why don’t we take a carriage ride and picnic together? Perhaps tomorrow?”

  Violet’s gaze narrowed. “We’d enjoy that very much. And we appreciate your willingness to picnic even though it doesn’t suit you.” They stopped as they reached the modiste’s shop. She drew in a breath, studying his face. There had been a great deal he hadn’t said in this conversation. And while her body ached at the feel of his arm, she had to confess that she wondered about his motives, his past, his relationship with Macklemeyer, and his interest in her.

  He laughed then. “I see you’ve gotten to know me, too.” And he opened the door, allowing both ladies to enter.

  She flushed as she dipped her head again, passing by him to walk into the shop. She had. And she liked what she knew of him. Strong, independent, not a man who would shy away from a fight. But there was so much she didn’t know. Her belly fluttered again as his hip brushed hers. She could not allow her attraction to cloud her mind. Which meant, beyond this picnic they’d just planned, she’d need to begin the search for a husband in earnest.

  Chapter Six

  Later that evening, Justice sat in the front room of the general’s home once again. The sun cast shadows along the wall as he sipped on whiskey, which should have warmed him but somehow seemed cold. He knew why. This time, the room wasn’t adorned with a beautiful redhead who made his blood turn to fire.

  Ridiculous.

  Violet was a tool to reach his end goal, that was all. He had a fight to win, and she was the means to do it. So why had he warned her off a match with Macklemeyer today? When did one woman’s life mean more than his entire livelihood? His family? His future?

  But that was part of the problem. He couldn’t quite bring himself to make her a sacrificial lamb.

  Since when did one woman’s happiness trump his need to pummel the shit out of a man who deserved it?

  “I’m surprised you’re not attending the prize fight tonight,” General Wright said as he poured himself a second glass. “You’ve got the look of a fighter.”

  “Indeed,” he answered with an easy smile. “Because I was a fighter. Four years before I left to go into business with my brothers.”

  “I see.” The general raised his glass. “Then it’s even more surprising that you won’t attend. Not only will there be a fight first, but now the town is holding other festivities after. Should be a fun time and everyone will be there.”

  Everyone? Was the general attempting to tell him something? “I’ll likely wander over when we’re finished. I like to imagine I can still win.” He wasn’t talking about the ring.

  The other man turned back to him. “Well, I won’t keep you long then. Thank you for coming.”

  “My pleasure.” He flexed his hands around his glass as the general seated himself across from Justice.

  “Let’s cut to the point. Macklemeyer. Tell me what you know.”

  Justice raised a brow. The general hadn’t been jesting. They were getting right to the heart of it rather quickly. “I was going to say the same to you.”

  The general grimaced, his drink clinking on the table next to him. “That’s easy enough. I know almost nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Justice found that surprising but the pained look on the other man’s face lent credence to his assertion.

  Odd. The fact a general as powerful as the man before him hadn’t learned anything was, in and of itself, concerning. “I can find no
record of this business he claims to own, no one who’s ever worked with him or for him, no birth record even. Nothing.”

  Interesting.

  A lack of birth record wasn’t that uncommon, but he’d considered Parricide intelligent enough to create a better front. Or perhaps he’d been attempting exactly that when he’d tried to kidnap Millie and steal Destrian’s ships. “And your brother? He isn’t concerned?”

  “My brother,” the other man grunted. “How much did you hear earlier today at the inn?”

  “Enough,” Justice said, flexing his hand.

  “My brother saw a pile of coins and didn’t look any further. His own need for money has blinded him.” The general shook his head. “But he’ll ruin Violet’s life before he’s realized his mistake. Of that, I’m sure.”

  “You’re a good man to try and stop him.” Justice wished he were that good. That noble. Old wounds ached in his chest.

  “You can help me, can’t you?” the general asked, as he gave Justice a careful appraisal.

  Justice rolled his head, trying to loosen the tension knotting his muscles. His attack of morals was making this conversation more difficult. He’d been trying to play his cards close, keep what he knew for himself in case he needed it. But Violet might end up hurt if he didn’t share, and that protective need he felt when around her swelled again. “I’ve the man calling himself Macklemeyer for nearly two years. He was my brother’s second in command though he went by the name of William Parricide.”

  The general didn’t move a muscle, but Justice could have sworn the man grew paler. “I see.”

  Justice shifted, worried he’d already shared too much. While he wished for General Wright to keep Violet safe, he also needed to catch Parricide, and keeping some information to himself would ensure continued bargaining chips later if he’d need them.

  He hated himself a little for it. But protecting his family and catching Parricide had always been his first priority. And while this place was darker without Violet’s presence, his mind was also clearer. He ignored the voice within his own thoughts that accused him of being selfish. Yes, he wanted the fight more than Violet’s happiness. That was his way, and she wasn’t his problem. “But in the time I’ve known him, he’s never owned a company nor shipped his own goods. He only worked for us. But then again, there is a great deal I still don’t know.”

  “Damnation,” the other man muttered softly. “Where is his money from?”

  Justice’s stomach clenched. Did he say?

  But the general, his gaze trained on the far wall, asked another question before Justice needed to answer. “Parricide? You don’t think that’s his actual name?”

  “I had assumed that Parricide was an alias. It’s a bit on the nose.”

  “How so?”

  Justice leaned forward, his elbows coming to rest on his knees. “Well. He set one of my brother’s ships on fire. Not quite an attempt to kill his father but as my brother was his boss, it seemed apropos.”

  “Intentionally?”

  They were getting onto shakier ground. How did Justice explain that Parricide had sacrificed the ship in order to blame the French in an attempt to sabotage the efforts to end the war? The man was a smuggler and he wished to continue his business. He was also a cold-blooded murderer. “My brother discovered that Parricide had been stealing.”

  General Wright let out a long shaky breath. “So Macklemeyer is Parricide? But both may be aliases?”

  Justice gave a quick nod. He wasn’t ready to share that Parricide had been stashing goods in the tunnels under the very castle where General Wright was stationed. If Justice told him the truth, he might drop the hammer of the military down on Parricide’s head. It was Justice’s job to deliver—well—justice. In addition, if the troops failed…Parricide could slip away, and lord only knew how Justice might be able to find him again. He’d gotten lucky this time. He didn’t need the might of the military sending Parricide into hiding again.

  General Wright picked up his glass and took a large swallow. As he set the glass down again, he rubbed his fingers along his temple. “My nieces need to be here with me.”

  “They do,” Justice answered. And though he shouldn’t, he added. “And that farce of a courtship should be dissolved.”

  General Wright winced. “That will be easier said than done. Do you, for example, have evidence that Macklemeyer set the fire?”

  “He confessed it to both me and my brother, the Duke of Whitehaven. Would you consider the testimonies of two men enough?”

  The general nodded. “I do. Would your brother be willing to put that in writing for me to show my brother and conduct the arrest?”

  Justice let out a long breath. He’d hoped to do this on his own. It was his fight. But for Violet’s sake…he could do this one thing for her. “I’ll ask him.” He might not have told her uncle everything, but he could do this. Despite his commitment to his family, Justice couldn’t deny his desire to protect Violet. And that included from himself.

  The general gave a quick nod. “Thank you.”

  Justice never asked anyone for anything. When had he changed that policy? But he already knew the answer. When he’d met Violet Wright.

  He stood, readying himself to head out the door. If Violet was going to be out at the dance tonight, he’d be there, too. It wasn’t because he wanted to see her. Absolutely not. If she were there, perhaps Parricide would attend.

  But all he could see was the red glint of her hair and the sparkle in her eyes as he made his way out into the night.

  Violet stood dressed and ready for the evening.

  A local dance was being held and her father had suggested they attend. Normally, he’d never add last-minute activities to their schedule, but nothing had been normal of late.

  Samantha had donned one of Violet’s gowns so she could join them. Fortunately, her cousin was less concerned with the fit than most. Because where Violet was of average height and fairly curvy, Samantha was tall and fashionably thin.

  Her father descended the stairs, looking dapper in his evening wear. “Are we ready?” he called out, his eyes appearing a bit glassy, his smile tipped to one side.

  He’d begun drinking already Violet realized with a frown. “Ready,” she replied.

  “Good,” he chuckled. “We’ve reason to celebrate tonight.”

  “Celebrate?” she asked, dread snaking down her spine. What did that mean?

  Her father’s smile grew. “I had a visitor while you both were out shopping today.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask which visitor, but she didn’t bother. He’d likely tell her and, somehow, silence would say more in this moment than parroting back another question.

  Her father cocked his head, likely waiting for her to ask. When she didn’t, he continued on as though she had. “Mr. Macklemeyer.”

  She felt the blood drain from her face. “He came here?”

  “He did. And he wasn’t lying. He looked as though he’d been ill. But he’s on the mend now and, even better, we’ve moved forward in our agreement.”

  Samantha reached for her hand, clasping Violet’s fingers tightly in her own. “Steady,” she whispered.

  “How did you move forward?” she choked out, her breath coming in uneven gasps. She liked how her father had called it their agreement. He didn’t even bother to call it her match.

  Her father patted his pocket and something inside her died. Money had changed hands. She was sure of it. Once Macklemeyer began to fund her father, it would be much more difficult for her to back out of the arrangement. “He’s formerly requested to court you.”

  Her head spun as she struggled to keep her feet. How would she free herself now? She didn’t think she could. Unless her father returned the money.

  And then the trickle of dread turned into a river. “Where is the dance tonight? At the church?” Why hadn’t she asked earlier?

  “The town square,” her father said as he stepped down the last three steps.
“What does it matter?”

  Her mouth went dry. Her father was already drunk, and gambling was one of his favorite past times. “I thought the fight was happening at the church.”

  “It’s been moved to behind the inn so that men might attend both.” Then his jaw hardened even as his gaze slid away. “Why?”

  Her chin notched up. Her father had every intention of betting on that fight, which meant the money would likely be gone by the morning. And she’d be stuck with Macklemeyer forever. “I don’t feel well this evening. Perhaps we should stay—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he shot back. “Mr. Macklemeyer will be there, as well. He wants to see you. This is your chance to spend real quality time with the man. Get to know him.”

  She didn’t want to know him. She didn’t even want to be in the same county as him.

  But she found herself loaded into the carriage and off to the town center. The moment they arrived, her father disappeared into the crowd, leaving her and Samantha to wander the outskirts of the festivities. Although the band played, the dancing wouldn’t begin for some time. Not until all the men returned. Several booths were open and women milled about, chatting in groups. “We may as well discuss all of this,” Samantha murmured. “We’ve nothing better to do.”

  “I might cry if we do,” Violet replied. “And I can’t cry here.”

  Samantha nodded. “Just listen then.”

  “All right,” she answered, drawing in a steadying breath.

  Samantha stopped, leaning close. “Here’s what I know so far. Lord Justice—”

  “Wait.” Violet stopped walking, interrupting Samantha as she held up her hand. “I thought for certain you meant Macklemeyer.”

  “I’ll get to him,” Samantha said, pulling her toward a quiet alley between the general store and the baker’s shop. “But the two men are inextricably tied.”

  Violet had thought the same. A vague notion that her cousin was sure to have put some fine points on. “How do you know? What have you learned? You’ve only been here a day.”