Her Willful White: Dark Duke’s Legacy Book 2

by Andresen, Tammy

  “But only one would do.”

  She placed a soft kiss on his lips, hearing him wheeze. Fear fluttered up in her throat. “You need to live long enough to make certain we can make our match official.”

  “I will,” he said, lifting a hand to touch her face. “Don’t you worry.”

  His words did little to abate her fear and she breathed a sigh of relief when Justice and Ben made their way toward them.

  “Will got away.” He coughed again. “He’s as responsible for our fathers’ deaths as that of Le Serpent.”

  “I don’t care,” she answered honestly. “As long as you’re all right, I’ll put my father’s death to rest in my heart. You were right all along. You are my future.”

  He smiled up at her. “That’s my flower.”

  “I love you, Dez.” She answered, cupping his cheeks.

  “I love you, too.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dez spent the next two days in and out of sleep.

  He’d never felt worse in his life.

  But by the third day, the tightness in his chest eased and he knew he’d be all right. The sun was just rising, soft pink light filtering into the room. Fleur lay next to him, her features bathed in the rosy hue, her fingers twined with his.

  His breath caught. She looked so lovely. Part of him wished to wake her. She’d spent nearly every moment by his side the past few days. Being together had only solidified his certainty that Fleur was the only woman for him.

  She’d taught him so much about love and strength.

  But rather than wake her up, he decided to let her sleep, slipping from the bed. He donned a dressing gown and padded toward the kitchen, intent upon a bath. He could still smell smoke and it was time to wash himself clean and begin his future.

  But as he made his way down the stairs, he found Justice coming up them. “You’re up early.”

  Justice shook his head. “You mean late. Haven’t been to bed yet.”

  Dez grinned. “That makes more sense.”

  Justice winked. “It’s not what you think. No carousing, just investigating.”

  “Tell me.” Dez grimaced.

  “Come find me in Ben’s study when you’re done breaking your fast. I can wait another hour or two to sleep.”

  “Are you sure?” Justice looked nearly as tired as Dez felt.

  Justice gave a nod. “It’ll be better if we tell you everything together.”

  Dez clenched his jaw. “Fair enough. I’ll be ready in an hour.”

  After bathing and dressing, he made his way to his brother’s study. He smiled. A month ago, the idea of this house belonging to his brother had bothered him. And when he’d discovered that it had gone to all of them, not just Ben, he’d been relieved. But now, he didn’t care. He was going to move to France and this house felt like it belonged with his brother.

  When he entered, both his brothers waited for him wearing matching frowns of consternation.

  His gut clenching, Dez slid into a seat next to the fire.

  “I’m glad to see you well,” Ben said in greeting. “We were all worried.”

  Justice winked. “Fleur most of all. I don’t think she’s hardly slept.”

  That made Dez smile. “That would explain why she’s still asleep. She hardly moved as I bathed and changed.”

  “Have you decided when the wedding will be?”

  Dez scratched his hand along his jaw. He’d bathed but not shaved. “I’ve decided to appeal to her uncle one more time.”

  Ben gave a single nod of agreement. “Wise choice.”

  “Thank you, but we’re not here to talk about Fleur, are we?”

  Justice rose then and crossed over to Ben’s desk, grabbing a folded piece of parchment. He brought it back over to Dez, holding it out to him. “I went back to the cavern after the smoke had cleared. I found this in the jacket pocket of Le Serpent.”

  Dez unfolded the sheet as he shifted in his seat, sick dread making his chest tight. Pierre Dupont was at the top of the names. “It’s Fleur’s father.”

  “Keep reading,” Justice returned.

  There were ten names on the sheet, including that of their father, the Duke of Whitehaven. And, at the very bottom, R. White.

  “Fuck,” he muttered. “The missing sibling we’re supposed to find, the bastard sibling our father never told us about until his death, is on a list of people Le Serpent killed?”

  Ben shrugged. “The name is at the bottom. We don’t know he made it through the list. Our father’s and Fleur’s are at the top. And now Le Serpent is dead.”

  He rested his head in one of his hands. “And Will? He’s still out there.”

  Justice leaned forward. “I know you’ve got a business to run, Dez. But perhaps it’s time to pull Sayden from the manufacturing and bring him here. What was it Fleur said…the people, they are what’s important.”

  Dez shook his head. “That woman’s got a way of realigning my priorities.”

  They all chuckled.

  Ben scrubbed his scalp. “We also discussed hiring some of your former colleagues. Other fighters.”

  Justice cocked his head as he considered. “Good plan. But they’ll not do as well as our own flesh and blood.”

  Ben looked down at his hands. “The other piece to this puzzle is that, financially, the dukedom is sinking.”

  Dez blinked in surprise. “What?”

  “That fucking house.” Ben gestured vaguely west. “He spent every farthing he could gather building it. Many of the properties still produce. With time, we’ll climb out of it. And I’m in no way asking you to financially support the dukedom but…”

  “But?” he asked.

  “I’d hate to see the only Whites who are currently earning money cease running their business.”

  “Agreed,” Dez answered. “But I actually can make the dukedom some money. Perhaps I can lease your other three ships from you. We’ve got plenty of product. It’s transportation that has proven difficult. And with the war at a possible end, we should sell as much as we can.”

  Ben stood. “Done.” Then he leaned in and looked at the fire.

  “There is one other asset we can leverage,” Justice said, his frown deepening as he spoke. “We could also sell this house if need be.”

  Dez winced. He knew how much it meant to Ben. “Not a bad plan,” Ben said.

  That made Dez’s head snap up. “You’d do that?”

  “For my family? Yes. For Chloe? In a heartbeat. As Fleur said, it’s the people who are important.”

  Dez softened on the inside. Fleur. How much heart she’d brought into their lives astounded him still. “Am I caught up?”

  Ben raked a hand through his hair. “One other thing. As soon as you’re well, I thought we’d make our way to London. Our barrister is there, researching this R. White. And Justice’s old fighting chums, as well.”

  Dez gave a nod of agreement. “If Fleur’s uncle doesn’t consent, perhaps you could petition the Archbishop of Canterbury on our behalf.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Dez turned and left, heading back to his room. He had a powerful need to see Fleur. Touch her, hold her in his arms.

  While this was far from over, so much had become clear since he’d met her. Most of all, how much he loved her.

  He found her stretching in the bed.

  She gave him a glowing smile. “Have you already gotten up? How did I miss that?”

  “You were tired,” he said as he stretched out next to her and pulled her up against his side. “It’s hard work going around saving grown men from themselves.”

  “And spies,” she added.

  “You did, indeed, save me from a very dastardly character.”

  She snuggled closer. “I was worried about you. You coughed terribly for the longest time.”

  “I’m sorry to have worried you love.” He kissed the top of her head, inhaling her scent. “Will you forgive me?”

  “Of course,” she said as her
leg slid over his. “But promise never to do it again.”

  “I solemnly swear.”

  She pressed closer. “You’re feeling well?”

  “Fit as can be.” He brushed back a few stray locks of hair. “We’re off to London in a few days.”

  Her eyes widened. “Really? Will we marry there?”

  He leaned down, capturing her mouth with his. “Actually, I thought to implore your uncle one more time. Convince him your safety was in question.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “He hated my father. If you tell him that my father brought trouble to your door and that’s why you took me off, he’ll likely concede.”

  He kissed her again. “Excellent. Good to know.”

  “Then why do we go to London if not to wed?”

  “We’re all in agreement that we can’t stay here. And while the mystery of your father’s specific killer has been solved, the one surrounding my late patriarch has only just begun.”

  She gave a tentative nod. “I understand. I’ll help however I can.”

  “Does that mean you’ll stay home while I go off and do the dangerous things?”

  “Doubtful,” she said as she slid on top of him. “You need me to look out for you.”

  “I do, indeed,” he answered, holding her hips in his hands. This was where they belonged. Entwined together. “I love you, Fleur Dupont.”

  She grinned as she nipped at his lips. “And I love you, Destrian White.” Further words were lost as their lips met in a searing kiss.

  Epilogue

  Three days later…

  Fleur stood holding her uncle’s arm as she craned her head through the cracked door, attempting to catch sight of Destrian.

  “You’ll be wed soon enough,” he grouched, pulling at the knot in his cravat. “I don’t understand this rush.”

  “What will people think?” Her aunt sighed just behind them.

  But her mother winked. “One look at the two of them, and they will know that Lord White and Fleur have fallen deeply in love.”

  Her uncle gave a snort. “Love. Bah.”

  But her mother’s smile only broadened. “Just like I did, all those years ago.”

  Fleur reached for her mother’s hand, giving her fingers a squeeze. Her mother had viewed her father through a rosy veil her entire married life. Fleur had worn it, as well, and the process of losing that false hero had been so painful.

  But that wasn’t what she had with Destrian. She knew all there was to know about Dez. Or the important things. The sort of man he really is. Her father had been all charm on the outside while Dez wore his grumpy exterior like a shield. But underneath that, was the best sort of man. “It is most certainly a love match with Dez.”

  Her mother’s eyes sparkled. “As soon as this war is over, we’ll show him France.”

  “He ships to France, Mother. He’s been.”

  “Not like this,” her mother answered. “Lazy summer days and the smell of fermenting grapes.”

  Fleur could not argue with that, nor did she wish to as music drifted from inside the church. Chloe was an accomplished pianist and had volunteered to play for the service.

  Her mother and aunt hurried inside as Fleur and her uncle followed.

  Dez stood at the front, Justice and Ben next to him. Millie waited at the front as well, acting as the second witness. Fleur’s heart jumped in her throat as joy spread through her.

  They said their vows, joining hands as smoke from the candles and incense curled about them.

  Never had anything felt so right in Fleur’s entire life. And when they kissed, sealing their marriage, she closed her eyes, wishing to remember this moment always.

  “Lady White,” Dez murmured as he ran a thumb across her lips. “Not regretting your choice, are you?”

  “No, Lord White,” she whispered, opening her eyes and grinning up at him. “I don’t want to forget a thing.”

  His returning grin made her stomach do a silly twist even as he tucked her arm into his elbow. “Good idea. Though I predict this is one of many moments to treasure.”

  “Do you think so?” She gave his arm a squeeze.

  “I do,” He stopped halfway down the aisle and, in front of everyone, kissed her once again. “In fact, I predict, that our adventures are just beginning.”

  Her mother laughed. “See, they’re in love.”

  But Ben groaned behind them. “I don’t think we’ll live through more adventures from you two.”

  Fleur wrinkled her nose. “We’ve got to work on your brother’s attitude.”

  He shook his head. “That’s Chloe’s job.”

  Millie giggled behind them. “That’s very true. Fleur, you’ll have your hands full with my second brother.”

  Dez turned to look back at his sister. “And what of the man who gets stuck with you?”

  Fleur bit the inside of her cheek, to keep from commenting. Now that Millie had started speaking in front of Fleur, the woman’s tongue was not to be matched. Any beau for Millie’s hand would have his work cut out for him.

  They headed out the church door. They’d stop at her uncle and aunt’s home for a wedding breakfast and then it was on to London and the next chapter of their great mystery.

  Want to read more? Check out the entire series:

  Her Wicked White

  Her Willful White

  His Wallflower White

  Her Wanton White

  Her Wild White

  His Wedded White

  His White Wager

  Up next, a sneak peek of His Wallflower White!

  His Wallflower White

  “I do believe I despise London,” Millie declared as she took a bite of a delicate confection. She sat outside one of the many shops that lined the narrow cobblestone street near where they’d taken up residence. The words were the absolute truth. Despite the abundance of pastries, London was loud, busy, and, quite honestly, the place stank of humanity. Literally. It smelled terrible.

  Chloe, her best friend and brother’s wife, gave her a glowing smile. Her honey hair and blue eyes sparkled in the few rays of sun as they sat at a café table outside the shop. Those sorts of grins were Chloe’s specialty. She had an annoying knack for seeing the good in everything. Millie loved her despite such an obvious flaw. “It’s not so bad,” Chloe said leaning closer. “So many people of different walks of life provide an endless amount of amusement.”

  Esme, Millie’s stepmother, or rather, her late father’s wife, nodded her mass of pale blonde locks, her petite frame perfectly draped in black. The color only served to accentuate her light hair and porcelain skin. “London is always good for that. Truth be told, I’ve missed it. Here, it feels like the possibilities are endless.”

  Millie scrunched her nose. “Endlessly smelly.”

  Both Chloe and Esme giggled at that.

  Millie scanned the crowd of people bustling this way and that. They walked with large baskets of goods such as food or clothes. Some alone, some in pairs, chatting. A few leading dogs and one man with a small pig. Curious indeed.

  But to Millie, they weren’t interesting. They were much the same. Which was unfair, she knew. Each of those bodies was living a life full of drama, happiness, pain. But as she stared out at them, they all blended together.

  Then again, Lady Millicent White, sister to the Duke of Whitehaven, wasn’t much for socializing. In fact, she didn’t talk to anyone other than her family. Ever. Period.

  She pressed her lips together, and remembered the very day it started. She’d been seven.

  A diplomat had come to stay with her family. She couldn’t remember from where, but he’d asked her questions that she hadn’t wished to answer. What was her doll’s name? Who was her favorite brother? The response had stuck on her tongue.

  The answers, even then, were too personal to share with a stranger. How did a little girl explain that her doll was named after the mother she had no memory of? Or that her favorite brother was Ben, only he’d grown cold and di
stant over the past few years?

  And so she’d said nothing.

  The moment their guest had gone, her father had switched her hands for her rudeness. Not that the punishment had deterred her. Not a bit. If anything, she’d realized something important that day. She had power, too. Silence, in and of itself, was a form of control. She couldn’t openly disobey. Not like her four brothers. But she could withhold. That was hers to command.

  “Of course, my possibilities are not currently endless.” Esme looked down at the black fabric she wore. “In fact, they’re quite limited.”

  Millie understood. As a duke’s widow, Esme was supposed to be in full mourning. And she more or less was adhering to the strict social code that governed such events. She wore all black and had refrained from attending any social events, but Esme had not contained herself within their townhome. They’d begun taking trips like these out and about the city.

  The weather had warmed nicely, and Esme wasn’t really grieving. How could one actually mourn the loss of such a wretched man as Millie’s father?

  Chloe reached for Esme’s hand. “Ben claims you needn’t attend those rules at all. He says that as a duchess, you’re one of the few people who can break them at will, and no one will dare say a word.”

  Esme gave a sad smile to Chloe, her fingers gripping Chloe’s tighter for just a moment before she let the other woman’s hand go. “You are the duchess now, dear. I am the dowager. And if I want to marry again, I need to put on the air of a mourning widow. Appearing unfeeling will not endear me to new suitors. Never mind that no one mourns the loss of the last Duke of Whitehaven. No one will care that I was thrust into a loveless marriage with a cruel man.”

  Millie grimaced at that. Esme made several pertinent points. She scanned the crowd again, not because she looked for anyone in particular, but her thoughts were lost in the past again, memories of her father, swirling about her thoughts. How could one man have so much and be so miserable?

  Millie’s memories stopped short, however, when a man caught her gaze. A stranger, though he looked oddly familiar. As though she’d seen him before. But as she searched her memory, she couldn’t place him. And surely she’d remember a man such as him.