Her Wanton White: Dark Duke’s Legacy

by Tammy Andresen

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Macklemeyer sneered. “I’d hardly call her perfect.”

  “She’s pretty enough. Should be fun.”

  “Cold as witch’s tit,” Macklemeyer fired back, his voice dripping with derision.

  Well, if she’d wondered how he might feel about her, she had her answer. Rather than be offended, she was relieved to know he didn’t like her either. That ought to make ending things simpler.

  “Even that can be fun, if you like that sort of thing.”

  Both men chuckled at that. It made her stomach turn with worry and bile crept into the back of her throat, though she had no idea what they actually meant.

  “When does the boat sail?” Macklemeyer asked.

  “With the tide, tomorrow night. We’ll load the brandy after dark.”

  “Good,” he answered crossing his arms as he looked up at the sky. “Now I should get back. Wouldn’t want to keep my lovely bride-to-be waiting.”

  The other man gave a low chuckle that made her shiver. They started moving inside and she followed. As soon as they entered the room, they parted ways and Violet wove through the crowd until she caught up to Macklemeyer. Her gut churned with what she was about to do but it was better to just get this over with.

  “Mr. Macklemeyer,” she said as she pushed down the nausea rising in her stomach.

  He turned to look at her, his eyes cold as ever. At least now she understood. “Miss Wright.”

  She drew in a deep fortifying breath. “Might I have a word?”

  He didn’t move, and for a moment, he just stared. “In regard to what?”

  “Our courtship.” She stepped closer, twisting her hands together. “I don’t mean to be forward but—”

  “You’re never forward,” he said, his hand coming to grip her elbow. And then before she could say another word, he was propelling her back toward the garden.

  She had two choices. Allow him to continue or stop him and this time, after how he’d kissed her last night, she had no intention of being alone with him. She planted her feet and nearly tripped when he gave her a good hard tug.

  “Oh,” she cried. A different man would have stopped.

  Justice flitted through her thoughts. He would never pull her like that.

  Not that he’d court her either. Not that it mattered. What she meant was that Justice always treated her with basic dignity. Something Macklemeyer knew so little about.

  He only pulled the harder until they were out the door and quickly moving toward the shadows. “Let go of me,” she cried.

  “Finally, a spine,” he gritted back.

  “I’ve always had a spine,” she said, anger making her heels dig in harder. She was tired of being pushed around, of being abused by the men who should have cared for her. “Which is why I have no intention of marrying you.”

  He gave her a final tug and swung her into the shadows. Fear trickled down her spine. Out of sight, what would he do to her? Though he wasn’t as large as a man like Justice, he was deceptively strong, and she gasped in a breath, trying to steady herself as his hand flew up and then came down again across her cheek.

  Pain exploded under her eye, but she’d barely made a sound when his face dropped to her face, his hot breath blowing on her cheek. Her knees buckled as she shrunk lower. She tried to pull away, but he held firm, and her muscles refused to work. “You’ll marry me, and you’ll paste a smile on your face. If you don’t, I’ll see your father in prison by the month’s end.”

  Then he let her go and stormed off, leaving her in the shadows, her gloved hand covering what was certain to be a horrid bruise. A whimper escaped her lips. No man had ever hit her before and as pain throbbed in her cheek, self-pity welled in her chest. He’d made her feel so helpless.

  Tears stung at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

  She’d not cry over Erwin Macklemeyer or whatever his name was. Not now. Not ever.

  And she’d not marry him either.

  But she needed to see Justice, right away. She’d learned some valuable information and she’d allow Macklemeyer to strike her again before she let it go to waste.

  Straightening her shoulders, she shook off her worry and fear as she made her way inside to find her family. She had a plan.

  Chapter Nine

  It was well past midnight as Justice sat alone in the study, staring at his drink.

  Technically, it was his brother Ben’s study. Though they owned the house equally, the duke had managed to claim the room.

  Which was likely fair.

  With a dukedom came a whole set of worries and problems. And his brothers had come with more than most. Thanks to his father’s construction project, Ben was in debt up to his ears and selling everything he possibly could to make up the deficit.

  And while Justice had never been a team player, it had occurred to him that a coal mine might keep the creditors at bay to prevent his brother from sinking.

  The whiskey in his glass had been a gift from his father, a whole crate of it had been given to him in his father’s will.

  Which might have seemed like a nice gesture.

  Except Justice was certain his father had stolen the goods, creating a smuggling ring of his own that had also financed the massive estate he’d built in the Gothic Revival style.

  The gall of the man. He had everything in the world, and he’d skirted taxes to make more money to pay for more lavish items.

  His hand tightened on the glass. He’d considered dumping the entire crate in the ocean as a final send off to his father.

  A note had come with the gift. Each of his siblings had received one. A personal letter.

  One line in particular still haunted Justice.

  * * *

  To the son most like me, God is the answer.

  * * *

  Justice had still held the letter in his pocket. God might be the answer, but it wasn’t because his father told him so. Who wrote that while giving a gift of stolen whiskey? Did his father not understand that he hadn’t practiced what he preached? Not even a little. And building a home in a religiously motivated style of architecture did not make him a good man. Especially when he’d sacrificed his children’s future to accomplish the task.

  But the 5th Duke of Whitehaven’s hypocrisy mattered less to Justice than the other questions pinging in his head. Was he like his father? Did anger and greed swell in his veins like the tide? If it did, he knew what he needed to do. Solve this mystery, keep his family safe, and forget Violet so that she might find a good man of her own.

  But what if he wasn’t that man? What if he’d tamed the beast inside and Violet was helping him to cage the animal forever? He’d begun to wonder if marrying Violet might actually be the choice he needed to make. The answer his father had referred to. The problem was that the note haunted him still. Was he the same cold son of a bitch that his father had been?

  It that were true…

  He should stay away from the likes of Violet Wright.

  Then again, Sayden had made several sound points. Not the least of which was the fact that marrying Violet would help him defeat Macklemeyer.

  A knock sounded at the door. “What?” he called, taking a large swallow of his whiskey.

  “My lord,” the butler said as he opened the door. “You have visitors.”

  “Visitors? At this time of night?” Who the hell would be here now? He hardly knew anyone in Dover beyond the general and his nieces.

  “That’s right,” the butler’s voice dropped as he leaned forward, his face pinching. “Two women.”

  He stood. The only women it could possibly be were…without a word, he went striding out the door and down the stairs. Sure enough, Violet and Samantha stood side by side by the front door.

  “Violet,” he barked out, worry making his limbs tight. Why would she come here? Especially at this time of night. Something had to be wrong.

  Her head snapped up and even in the dim light of the entry, he could see
a bruise along her cheekbone. Her ivory skin making the dark color on her face even more pronounced.

  “Justice,” she said, her voice shaking the tiniest bit.

  He was down the rest of the stairs in a second, his hand sliding along her jaw and tipping her head to get a better look. “What happened?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she answered. “I came to tell you—”

  “What do you mean it doesn’t matter,” he said back, anger bubbling up inside. He felt like hitting things now. Whoever did this to her was going to pay. He might not be good enough for her, but he’d see anyone who hurt her suffer. It was the least he could do for the woman who was working her way deep inside his soul. “It matters to me.”

  “Macklemeyer,” Samantha answered. “The two of you should probably talk. I’ll wait in your sitting room. Is that over here?” And she pointed to her right.

  He gave a stiff nod as Samantha headed for the door. She didn’t look back as she softly closed the heavy oak paneled door behind her.

  The moment the other woman disappeared, Justice wrapped his arms about her waist, and lifted Violet into his arms. The soft curves of her body pressed to his as he carried her toward the library, located on the other side of the entry.

  Only a few candles glowed but he didn’t need to see her. The feel of her pressed to him was enough. “Tell me what happened,” he said the moment he’d closed the door.

  In hushed words, she recounted the events of the evening. With every word, tension coiled around him like a noose. Every other muscle was so taut until he was like a bow, ready to snap.

  “Violet,” he groaned when she was done. “He’ll pay for hurting you. I promise you that.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t care about that. But I needed to tell you about his plans. This might be your chance to catch him.”

  She was right. He still held her, his fingers rising up to smooth back her hair as he looked down into her eyes. “And what of you?”

  “If you succeed,” she whispered, “I’ll be free from him.”

  “But your father still needs some way to pay off his debts.”

  She shrugged. “That’s a problem for another day. Macklemeyer is today’s issue. If I’ve learned anything, it’s to take problems as they come.”

  True. And smart. But it still grinded him to think of her at the world’s mercy. “Will you still try to find a husband?”

  She looked away, nibbling at her lower lip, and he realized what an absurd question it was to ask while he held her in his arms. When deep down, he wanted her for himself. His eyes closed as he slid his hand down the curve of her spine.

  “I don’t know,” she said softly, a tremble in her voice. “My father is fairly intent.”

  He winced. She might be stuck in another match.

  “Samantha thinks she can support us both.”

  His eyes snapped back open. “What?”

  She smiled. “That’s right. If we go off on our own, I’ll find a way to be useful to her. She needs help finding buyers. I could be good at that. And then, I could make my own future rather than be forced into marrying a man I don’t want or care a whit about.”

  He hated the idea.

  On the surface, it should have been good news. She’d not marry another, not be tied to some man who wasn’t him.

  But Violet was so soft. What if someone attempted to take advantage of her? She’d be alone, operating in a man’s world. What if Samantha didn’t succeed and Violet had to resort to drastic measures to support them? “Violet,” he said, his fear and disapproval surely ringing in his voice.

  She shook her head. “Like I said, that is a problem for another day. Right now, I’ve done as I said I would and passed on the information. And while, I suppose, it doesn’t really matter anymore if I’m ruined. I should return home before I am missed.”

  It mattered to him. Which was why he didn’t let her go. Instead, he dropped his head closer, resting his forehead against hers. “I’ve got another idea for you to consider.”

  “What?” she asked.

  But instead of answering, he kissed her, long and slow, his mouth moving over hers with a leisurely pace that belied her insistence that she leave. He didn’t want her to go anywhere.

  And when he slanted her mouth open and slid his tongue along hers, he felt her shudder against him. It made him ache all the more for her.

  She tasted of cinnamon and cloves, and he dove deeper as she snaked her hands around his neck.

  He slid the tips of his fingers down her cheek and over her neck. Tracing her collarbone, he dipped lower, skimming the pad of his middle finger over her breast. He felt the peak stiffen under the light touch and his responding groan was lost in their kiss.

  He couldn’t let her go. Not now and not later. She belonged here in his arms. But he pushed those thoughts aside. He wasn’t doing this because he couldn’t live without her.

  Sayden’s plan was a good one. And, in addition to helping his family, he’d be aiding her, too. Everyone got something.

  “Violet,” he groaned as he ripped his mouth away. “I’m going to speak with your father.”

  “About?” she asked, her breath coming in short gasps. He could feel the pounding of her heart against his own.

  “Our marriage.”

  Marriage?

  Words failed her as her mouth opened and closed. Violet blinked up at him, attempting to clear the cobwebs from her thoughts. His kiss had muddled her brain and his words weren’t making sense. “I’m sorry?”

  He kissed her again, the touch more heated, more frenzied in a way that stole her breath and her reason. When he finally lifted his head again, her pulse was racing even as her body hummed with need.

  “Our marriage,” he repeated kissing a path to her ear, as he kneaded the soft globe of her breast. She arched into the touch, pleasure coursing through her and settling in a throbbing ache between her thighs. “Listen. We can help each other.”

  “Help?” she asked, a bit of her passion cooling. She leaned back to look at him.

  He nodded. “You need to secure your future and I…” he paused, his mouth pressing into a firm line.

  “What do you need?” she asked. While this conversation had taken her by surprise, his touch had made her think…that he cared.

  “I need to catch Macklemeyer.”

  “I’ve already given you information for that.”

  He nodded. “I need to start a new business. And Samantha, she can help.”

  This was about his business? Hurt made her chest ache. She tried to take a step back, then. “Then perhaps you should be speaking with Samantha.”

  “I don’t want Samantha.”

  That salved her hurt a bit. “You’re suggesting that we…” she swallowed. “We make a match of convenience?”

  He nodded, a small smile pulling at his lips. “It’s a bit more than convenient, I think. But essentially, yes. It has a great many advantages.”

  She gave a stiff nod. “Of course.” But it was hurt, not excitement that rippled through her stomach. She dropped her arms and stepped out of his arms. “Can I think on it?” On the surface he was correct. But so many things about that proposal bothered her. She’d just determined to make her own path.

  And he hadn’t exactly declared his feelings…

  He wanted her.

  But she was beginning to wonder if she felt a great deal more than just passion.

  “Of course,” he answered. “I have to speak with your father and your uncle tomorrow.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “It’s time that your father put an end to your courtship. It’s gotten downright dangerous. Unless he’s done that already. After what Macklemeyer did?”

  She shook her head. “He was too far into his cups to even…” she trailed off, wincing.

  “Jesus.” Justice squeezed her waist. “Well, that’s about to come to an end. I’ll need your uncle’s help and I’m sure he’ll be an asset when speaking to your
father as well.”

  Justice dropped one more kiss on her lips before he started for the doors once again.

  Her head was spinning. Justice was delivering everything he’d promised.

  He was moving the pieces to catch Macklemeyer. He knew how to change her father’s course and he’d offered marriage.

  It was everything she’d wanted and yet…

  They reached the entry and Justice let her go to knock on the door to the sitting room. Violet wrapped her arms about her waist as Samantha stepped out and took her hand.

  Justice met her gaze, his eyes holding hers. “I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll speak before I talk to your father and uncle.”

  She nodded as Samantha took her hand and pulled her toward the door.

  “Please tell me he proposed,” Samantha said as they climbed into the carriage.

  Violet gasped. “How did you know?”

  Samantha settled into the seat across from her. “The man is beyond infatuated.”

  Violet held her breath as she considered those words. She sat, too, shaking her head. “That’s not what he said. In fact, he gave me a great many very practical reasons.”

  Samantha waved her hand. “He’s not used to emotions. Give him time. In the meantime, marrying him will ensure both our futures. Not that I am pressuring you. If you don’t wish to do so, we’ll find another way.”

  Violet smiled at Samantha. “You really are the smartest person I know.”

  “And you’re the kindest I know. And a man like Justice, he’ll make sure that gentle nature is protected. Think about that.”

  She would.

  In fact, she barely slept considering all the possibilities.

  Finally, as the sun began to rise, she fell asleep. But in her heart, she’d found her answer.

  Chapter Ten

  Sayden sat next to him, his pleased smile making Justice’s hand itch. He’d like to punch that expression right off his brother’s face.

  He hated when Sayden was right.

  He almost regretted bringing Sayden to this meeting with Violet’s father and uncle. He wished he had left his brother home, but he needed a second voice in this argument. And perhaps another pair of fists if it didn’t go according to plan.