Her Wicked White

by Tammy Andresen

  Millie gave a quiet smile, not uttering a word as Chloe grinned all the broader. “We’re pleased to have met you as well.”

  Tyron leaned forward in his seat. “I, for one, am delighted at our luck. Who knew this dinner would be so pleasant?”

  “I’m sure my father is pleased to have died so that you could have this opportunity,” Ben said from his position next to the hearth.

  Chloe’s smile grew brittle. He’d finally started talking and that’s what he’d chosen to say?

  “I beg your pardon?” Tyron turned to the duke, a frown making his angular features even more severe.

  “His Grace meant that it’s such unfortunate circumstances that brought us together,” Chloe said while adjusting her skirts.

  Ben walked toward them, giving her a long look of what appeared to be disapproval. “I know what I meant, Miss Fairly. Let’s not celebrate overly much as it’s grief for our common loss that had brought us together.”

  “Of course,” Lambford added, shifting in his seat. “We meant no offense, Your Grace.”

  Ben stood over them for several seconds before he finally took a seat at the head of the group. “I’m sure you did not, Lambford.”

  Tyron sat up straighter. “You must be hurting terribly.” His face pulled into a sneer. “With all the time you spent with your father.”

  Chloe pressed her mouth together. Ben had made it clear that she wasn’t to speak on his behalf, but this conversation was heading toward disaster.

  “You’re treading on business that isn’t yours.”

  Tyron sniffed. “He was an active member of this community whenever he was here. He talked often of his sons, particularly his heir. He had a great deal to say about you.”

  “Careful,” Ben rumbled.

  Chloe held in a gasp of surprise. The implication was clear. Tyron thought he knew something about Ben’s relationship with his father and he found Ben lacking.

  “I only want to honor what a great man he was.” Tyron’s lip curled as he stared at Ben.

  Then Ben did something completely unexpected. Rather than respond, he looked at Chloe. “Miss Fairly?”

  Chloe’s lips parted in surprise. He’d just chastised her for speaking on his behalf but now he invited her to intervene? She sat up a bit straighter. “I’m not certain I spent as much time with your father as Lord Tyron, but I can say father and son share a strength that is both admirable and comforting.”

  Ben’s brow lifted. “How very diplomatic, Miss Fairly.”

  Was that a compliment or a criticism? She found it difficult to tell. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  “I would add,” Tyron sneered. “That you both make a habit of—”

  “Look at that gull,” Lambford interrupted. “Do they often fly so close to the windows?”

  “They do,” Ben replied, looking rather amused for a man who was about to be insulted.

  Chloe clasped her hands. Lambford had the right of the situation. A deflection was best. “Your Grace, would it be appropriate for us to play a game? I know the situation is not a happy one, but a diversion may—”

  “By all means.” Ben waved his hand.

  “A word game, perhaps?” she asked looking to the ceiling as though really contemplating. In reality, she knew exactly the rhyming game she’d suggest. It was a more innocent game that would keep the men distantly polite while avoiding further conversation with the surly duke and the belligerent guest who seemed intent upon lecturing the new duke on proper comportment of his new title.

  “A lovely thought.” Lambford leaned forward. “But I’d much rather play something like Blindman’s Bluff.”

  Her stomach fluttered uncomfortably as Chloe clasped her hands. That game allowed for far too much touching.

  “Or.” Tyron raised a finger leering once again. While he’d been successfully diverted, Chloe feared, he’d now turned his attention to her. “Poor Kitty.”

  Chloe’s eyes widened. She knew exactly why the man wanted to play that game. One player would get down on all fours while another stroked the first player’s back saying ‘poor kitty’ three times without laughing. It involved a great deal of touching and she had no intention of allowing either of these men that sort of liberty with her or Millie.

  “Hide and seek?” She gave what she hoped was her most charming smile. “That could be fun.”

  Tyron stared at her his gaze travelling from the top of her head clear down to her toes. “Miss Fairly, surely we could play something more entertaining than that.”

  She shivered, a bit of revulsion running down her spine.

  “I think hide and seek is the perfect game. I shall count first,” Ben announced, and Chloe started in surprise. She’d assumed he’d not participate. He didn’t seem like the sort to go in for games. “All players must hide separately,” he added, raising a finger.

  She notched her chin, staring at him. Was he attempting to diplomatically diffuse the situation? “Close your eyes, Your Grace,” she said standing.

  He stood too, dutifully placing a hand on his eyes and began to count.

  The rest of the guests scattered. Chloe made her way toward the pianoforte, intent upon hiding behind its large mass when a hand came around her waist. She yelped the tiniest bit as she looked behind her shoulder right into Tyron’s angular face. “Hide well, Miss Fairly,” he said.

  Her stomach pitched as she wrenched away.

  With her heart hammering in her chest, she slid into the small space between the bench and the pianoforte.

  “Twenty,” Ben called, dropping his hand from his eyes. Then he turned and headed straight for her.

  So much for her hiding space.

  When he reached the pianoforte, he dropped to his knees in front of her. “Chloe.”

  The use of her given name was not lost on her. “Yes?”

  “Do I need to punch him in that hawk of a nose?”

  She covered her mouth as she stifled a giggle. Her heart rate had returned to normal, but it skipped a beat with those words. He was irritating as anything, this man, but he was also…a gentleman.

  The thought surprised her. But despite his gruff exterior, he was ready to fight to keep pawing men away from her, and that softened her a great deal. “I’m fine, Your Grace. But thank you.”

  He reached out a hand and helped her out of her hiding spot.

  At the touch of his hand, another shiver raced through her, but this was not fear. It was awareness at the strength of his hand, the comfort and excitement that pulsed through her at his touch.

  He let her hand go again, slowly releasing her fingers as he turned and crossed the room, pulling Millie from her spot. And then he leaned on the back of settee beginning to whistle.

  Chloe’s mouth dropped open. How long was he going to leave the two lords in their hiding spots?

  She snapped her jaw together, pressing her lips closed to keep from laughing. He was punishing them within the parameters of the game. It was brilliant and a bit devious. She let out a long breath.

  She was accustomed to overly handsy lords.

  Being a woman of no means but travelling in circles with the elite, men often took advantage of her unprotected status.

  Chloe made certain to never be alone, so their behavior was always checked by the crowd …but still. Men had touched her in all sorts of inappropriate places, and it was in those moments that she missed her former life the most.

  But tonight, she need not worry.

  The Duke of Whitehaven might be irritable and rough, but he’d also not allow another man any sort of liberties.

  Her shoulders relaxed. For the first time in a long time, she was free to just eat dinner without worry or vigilance.

  Ben had spent the better part of the past decade assessing horseflesh. A person did not just look at an animal to determine its strength, its speed. At least Ben didn’t. When he truly wanted to understand an animal’s potential, he listened.

  Was the horse’s gait smooth? Did it
stutter? Did its hooves float over the ground or strike hard? He’d fine-tuned his hearing to the point where he didn’t need to look to know where each player had hidden.

  Lambford had a hard thump to his footfalls, likely because he carried so much extra weight. Millie tiptoed.

  And Chloe? She glided over the ground, her steps full of the same grace that infused her conversation.

  Tyron, however, stalked like a beast of prey. And when he’d grabbed Chloe, hissing in her ear, Ben had not caught the words, but he knew the tone.

  If that man laid a single finger on Chloe again…

  He pushed off the settee he’d leaned against and crossed to Lambford, tapping the man on the shoulder.

  The man loudly groaned as he unfolded himself from behind a potted plant. Ben turned toward the screen where Tyron waited to be discovered.

  Who was the hunter now? “Come out, come out wherever you are,” he said softly as he moved across the room.

  Then he stopped in the middle, staring at the screen. Tyron was quiet, he’d give him that. But Ben could be silent when necessary and as he started moving again, his feet didn’t even whisper on the floor.

  He had a few debts to settle with this man. One for his rudeness and the other for his inappropriate behavior toward Chloe.

  He reached the screen, a slow grin spreading across his features. This should be fun, and, he hoped, a lesson for Tyron on how the man treated a lady under Ben’s protection. He stepped to the side, ready to spring his trap.

  And then he pounced. Jumping behind the screen with a primal growl.

  Tyron let out a high-pitched scream that sounded like a woman’s, a fact that Ben enjoyed far more than he likely should.

  Tyron’s face went chalk white and then beet red as his teeth gnashed together. “That was not sporting.”

  He stepped closer to Tyron. “Neither was the way you touched Miss Fairly. Don’t do it again.”

  The man’s eyes squinted into slits. “Is she more than just a companion?”

  Ben didn’t like where the man was going with this. The point was to stay away from Chloe. “You’ve been warned.”

  Tyron’s shoulders straightened. “You might be a duke, but you’re not your father.”

  The screen hid them from the rest of the group, a fact Ben took full advantage of. Stepping closer, he leaned his face into Tyron’s. “Stay away from her.”

  Tyron straightened. “He was right about you; you don’t have the control or fortitude to be the duke.”

  Ben’s fists clenched at his sides. Tyron thought him weak. Weak enough that Tyron thought he could take liberties with a with a woman under Ben’s protection. Nothing he said in this moment would change Tyron’s mind.

  The time for talk was over.

  Had his father said those things about him? In all likelihood, yes. Was he right? Perhaps. But Ben knew, whatever he lacked, he could keep Chloe from harm for a single evening.

  He turned then, without a word to Tyron and crossed the room to where Chloe still stood next to the pianoforte. With deliberate intent, he held out an elbow to her and escorted her back to the settee.

  If Tyron touched her again…the man was going to pay. He’d been warned.

  Fortunately for everyone, the butler chose that moment to announce that dinner had been served.

  With a glare at Tyron, they made their way to the dining room. Chloe kept up a steady stream of engaging conversation, which Lambford heartily participated in, but the rest of them had gone silent. Well, Millie continued to be silent, and with only a few exceptions, he’d been mostly silent, too. But Tyron now joined them with a sullen quiet, making the man’s features even more pronounced.

  By the second course, the lack of conversation had grown stifling. When Chloe rose from the table, excusing herself, Ben couldn’t blame her. The effort must be exhausting. But an absolute silence fell in the dining room at her absence. Lambford tried. Ben had to confess; the man had a few good qualities. “This rain. Do you think it will end soon?”

  Millie muttered her first words of the evening. “It’s England.”

  “Right,” Lambford answered, looking down at his plate. “Good soup. Excellent.”

  If Chloe had been attempting to demonstrate her skills in order to continue her employment, she’d done a marvelous job. Her short absence only highlighted her abilities.

  Tyron rose from the table as well, muttering something as he made his way to the door and Ben straightened. Was it coincidence that Tyron was leaving at the same time as Chloe? He doubted it.

  And while several footmen were stationed in the dining room, the halls were likely to be unattended. “Excuse me,” he said as he rose too, following Tyron out the door.

  He reached the hall just in time to see Tyron duck behind a high back bench. With a growl, he crouched near the fern that stood just next to the dining room doors.

  He’d catch Tyron in whatever deceit he was planning and then he’d use that as the excuse he needed to give the man a good thrashing.

  The light swish of skirts echoed down the hall and he knew that Chloe was returning from whatever repose she’d needed to take.

  His muscles tensed as he waited to see what Tyron planned.

  But even he wasn’t prepared for the way the man jumped out, grabbing Chloe’s arm with one hand and covering her mouth with the other.

  In a flurry of skirts, he backed her against the wall.

  A red haze clouded Ben’s vision as he stood, barreling toward the pair. He could hear Chloe’s muffled protests as she struggled to free herself.

  Had he promised a thrashing? He’d meant a beating. Mayhap with a dash of dismemberment. He might be a sorry excuse for a duke but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give Tyron the punishment he so richly deserved.

  Chapter Six

  Chloe tried to breathe but Lord Tyron’s hand covered her mouth and nose even as his body pressed her flat to the wall.

  “Tell me the truth,” he spit in her ear. “Are you giving yourself to the duke?”

  She tugged at his arm, trying to breathe, trying to break free as she thrashed her head back and forth. She couldn’t have answered if she wanted to. Not only could she not speak but her throat was closing, a fog clouding her eyes.

  She scratched harder at his arm, desperate for a breath, to break free.

  “You’re beautiful, I’ll give you that, but you’ve been corrupted living with a man of such little moral fiber.”

  She blinked as she attempted to process those words. Tyron had backed her against the wall, and he was accusing Ben of lacking morals?

  He pressed his thin lips to her neck, a sick knot sliding down into her stomach. She blinked her eyes, afraid she was losing a battle to remain aware when, from over Tyron’s shoulder, Ben’s face appeared.

  Was she imagining him there? A grumpy guardian angel?

  But in the next moment she sucked in a giant gulp of air as Tyron let her go, his body spinning toward the ground.

  Ben barely looked at her as he stalked toward the man now sprawled on the floor. “I told you what would happen if you touched her.” And then he lifted his fist and planted it in the middle of Tyron’s overlarge nose.

  Blood spurted from his nostrils, even as his hands flew to cover his face.

  Ben raised another fist, when Chloe gasped in another breath. “Your Grace,” she cried. It wasn’t that Tyron didn’t deserve another punch. He did.

  But as she sunk to her knees, unable to stay standing. She really wanted Ben’s strength to bolster her up. She’d let her guard down and she’d nearly paid a dear price.

  Ben turned to look at her, his face drawn in deep lines of anger, but a quick scan of her face and his features changed. He didn’t relax exactly, but his fist dropped. Instead of hitting Tyron, he grabbed him by his cravat and jerked him into a sitting position. Then, he began dragging him down the hall.

  Tyron grabbed Ben’s hand, trying to free himself from the duke’s grasp. Ben ignored him a
s he continued to yank him toward the stairs. “I know that you think I’m a weaker man than my father,” Ben spit as he pulled. “But I need you to know that I’ve got that cold bastard flowing in my veins. Between that and a dukedom at my disposal I’ll bury you if I see your ugly face again. I might have killed you tonight but there is a lady present, and she is the only reason I’m showing you mercy.”

  They reached the stairs and, without pause, Ben began dragging the man down the steps as Tyron flailed, attempting to catch his breath and right himself. Part of Chloe wished to follow just to see how the exchange ended but her legs would not hold her.

  Millie rushed from the dining room and started toward her brother, only to catch sight of Chloe on the floor and turned to her friend instead. Dropping to the floor, she wrapped her arms about Chloe as Lambford appeared as well.

  The front door opened, and Chloe didn’t need to see the act to know that Ben had thrown the man bodily from the house.

  As the door shut again with a deafening slam, Millie squeezed her tighter.

  Lambford took a step back as Ben crested the stairs striding toward them. “Your Grace,” Lambford yelped. “I need you to know I in no way condone whatever behavior Lord Tyron engaged in to cause you to…” he stopped when Ben passed him, heading toward Chloe and Millie.

  Over his shoulder, Ben gave Lambford a quick glance. “I’m sure you understand that tonight’s dinner must be postponed. We look forward to your next visit, Lord Lambford. And next time, leave your cousin at home.”

  “Of course.” Lambford bowed. “I completely understand. Another time. Certainly.” Then he bowed again. “Ladies.”

  “Please tell Lord Tyron that I am an excellent marksman,” Ben said as he stopped, standing over Chloe. “Good night, Lord Lambford.”

  “Good night.” Lambford quickly headed for the stairs and even Chloe had to confess the man could be spritely when the situation required it.

  She looked up to Ben, his face still set in deep lines of irritation. Not that she cared. She’d never been so glad to see an angry man in her life. “Thank you,” she whispered in a raspy voice, realizing her vocal cords weren’t quite working properly.