Chapter 10

10

Drake couldn’t keep his eyes off Millicent as he helped her into a sage-green woollen coat and offered her his arm to walk outside. She looked magnificent in her white dress, even with the addition of dirt smudges, thanks to Master Bright.

But it was more than her dress that attracted him. Despite his growing suspicions about her, Millicent had somehow found her way into the fractures of his shattered heart. Instead of letting Drake squeeze the damn thing back together, she was blowing it wide open. A rather alarming thought as it was impossible for a man to live with a splintered heart. He would have pondered this longer, but the carriage arriving distracted him.

The crest decorating the door of the beautifully outfitted Landau boldly declared his brother’s coat of arms. Rage washed through Drake like a rogue wave.

‘Bastard!’ he hissed.

‘Pardon?’ Millicent turned, her coffee gaze widening at what she saw.

Drake couldn’t blame her. He probably looked like some kind of crazed monster. Clenching his teeth and tugging her along, he narrowed his gaze as the ostentatious carriage pulled to a stop. ‘It’s my brother. And his wife.’

‘Really? I can’t wait to meet them.’ Drake turned to see if she was mocking him but there was no hint of humour in the curves of her expressive face. Her eyes were focused on the carriage. ‘I have a few things I’d love to say to Nora.’ She looked like a fierce avenging Valkyrie, ready to do battle. In his defence. His lips twitched despite his determination to remain enraged.

‘Don’t waste your time with her. As you said last night, she isn’t worth it.’ Drake could just imagine Millicent confronting the pale, delicate Nora. His former fiancée was no match for Millicent, and the last thing he needed was scandal to distract him from his mission. He never should have shared the entire sordid, embarrassing, heart-wrenching affair to Millicent. He still wasn’t sure why he had. Not that it mattered. Millicent would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to notice the tension between the two brothers, and she was none of those things. Far from it, in fact.

Drake found Millicent frustratingly astute, unnervingly intelligent, and wickedly sensitive to all manner of stimulation. After watching her attack her bitch of a stepmother, he was beginning to realise she was far more than he ever expected.

His earlier suspicions about Millicent’s connection to Lady Philippa reawakened. If Killian’s bride, Hannah, was actually an investigator working under Lady Philippa’s direction, it wasn’t much of a jump to imagine Millicent following in her friend’s footsteps. Her fighting skills certainly weren’t the product of dancing lessons. And it would help explain her courage the night before. If that were the case, he needed to find out exactly who she and Philippa were working for and, more importantly, if Millicent was working against him. As if their impending marriage needed any more complications.

While he desperately wanted to focus his attention on his current fiancée, first, he needed to deal with his ex-fiancée. Nora was here. At his estate. For his wedding.

Bloody fantastic.

‘I shall endeavour not to claw her eyes out, but I make no promises.’

‘Your decorum is admirable,’ Drake teased. Which made no sense. Drake never teased.

Millicent actually growled. It was surprisingly erotic.

The footman leapt down from his perch, opened the door, and set the step with a flourish.

‘Pompous, arrogant ass,’ Drake hissed.

‘Yes, she is.’ Millicent kept her gaze on the carriage.

Despite the fact his little shit of a brother – wearing a canary-yellow waistcoat, pea-green breeches, and a fur outer coat – was descending from the carriage, despite the fact the woman who ruined his heart was about to emerge from the aforementioned carriage, and despite the fact he was about to jump headlong into the parson’s noose with a woman who may or may not be secretly working against him, a bubble of joy burst somewhere in the vicinity of his belly at the sight of Millicent waging war in his defence. It made his heart flutter.

I am a soldier. The private investigator to Prime Minister Russell. Killer of men. Destroyer of evil. I was tortured for over a year and never once uttered a cry. My heart does not flutter.

It fluttered again.

Bollocks!

He turned his full attention to Millicent. ‘Lowering yourself to her level helps no one, regardless of how much I would enjoy watching you castigate her. And don’t think these new guests will distract me from our previous, unfinished conversation, my lady.’ He didn’t miss the flare of colour on her cheeks or how her breasts pressed against the sprigged muslin peeking out from her coat as she took a deep breath. There it was. That damn fluttering again. Perhaps he needed to see his doctor. Mayhap, this was a warning sign of impending apoplexy.

Drake tore his gaze away from Millicent to watch his brother help Nora from the carriage. He hadn’t seen them in almost five years. Half a decade had changed his brother. He was thicker in the waist and thinner in the hair. His cheeks were red from broken capillaries, and Drake wondered how often his brother sank a little too deeply into his cups.

As Nora emerged from the carriage, he felt Millicent stiffen next to him. While the years had left their mark on his brother, Nora looked much unchanged. Her figure remained slender, and her blonde hair still shone in the afternoon sunlight. She had been blessed with the cream and rose complexion so highly regarded in the beau monde. There was a time Drake could imagine the exact shade of her eyelashes. He could tell you the number of freckles on Nora’s shoulder. He marched into the horrors of the Afghan desert with Nora’s face shining like a beacon, giving him courage and faith when the world around him disintegrated into chaos. He thought his heart would never cease aching when she left him. But now, looking at her bluebell eyes, seeing her pink lips pursed in a perfect cupid’s bow, watching her gaze flit over Millicent to land firmly on him, he felt… nothing. Not a damn thing.

It was glorious.

‘Brother!’ Godric Drake, Baron de Vane, strode forward, his baroness floating along beside him in a gown matching her blue eyes and a white, fur-lined coat contrasting her black heart. ‘May we offer you our most heartfelt solicitations on this most wonderful event!’ His brother reached out a hand in greeting. Drake did not move. After an awkward pause, his brother dropped his hand.

‘Come, Beaufort.’ Nora’s voice was soft and far too high. Drake realised he preferred a lower, huskier tone. She let go of her husband’s arm, walked up to Drake, and put a gloved hand on his arm. ‘We are family and have missed you. I was thrilled to receive your invitation.’

Millicent growled again. The damnable flutter was back.

Nora’s sweet scent of peonies clashed with Millicent’s much more appealing citrus and sun-warmed cotton. But while seeing Nora in the flesh did not reignite his former feelings, it did remind Drake of all the reasons distance was key with his new bride. Allowing himself to become vulnerable would only end in destruction.

Drake moved away from both women. Nora’s eyes widened. Her mouth crimped at the corners. She didn’t miss his rejection of her. Neither did Millicent. Her dark eyes flashed with an emotion he couldn’t interpret.

Stepping back, Nora took her husband’s arm once more, though her gaze never left Drake’s face.

‘Lord and Lady de Vane, allow me to introduce my bride-to-be, Miss Millicent Whittenburg.’ Drake held his hand out to Millicent, though now he was too far away to touch her. His fingers itched and his heart kicked hard in his chest. Drake ignored the stupid organ. ‘Her stepmother organised this entire week. Including the guest list.’

Godric threw his head back and laughed, his jowls quivering with mirth. ‘Lord and Lady de Vane. Beaufort, please. We need not be so formal. As Nora said, we are family.’

Drake clenched his jaw. There was a time he would have happily planted his fist into his brother’s face and derived immense pleasure from hearing his nose crack like a walnut. But now he lacked the energy to fuel his ire. It all seemed so patently petty.

‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord and Lady de Vane.’ Millicent’s husky voice vibrated with unspoken hostility. When Godric stepped forward, taking Millicent’s hand in his and pressing a kiss to her gloved knuckles, Drake’s jealousy spiked, inconveniently distracting him from remaining aloof. He took a jolting step forward, reclaiming Millicent’s hand from his brother and tucking it in the crook of his elbow.

Jesus! I am the world’s biggest fool.

‘I’m sure you would like to refresh yourselves before meeting the rest of our guests.’ Millicent emphasised ‘our’, making her own subtle statement. She and Drake were a unit, and based on the glare she sent to Nora, she wanted the woman to be very clear on that point.

Drake forced his twitching lips to remain in a firm line. He refused to be charmed by his future wife.

Their fraught conversation was interrupted by another carriage crunching down the alder-lined drive.

‘Bugger,’ Millicent whispered.

Drake turned to his betrothed and watched her face pale as she narrowed her gaze on the approaching carriage.

Nora gasped at Millicent’s coarse language, her hand fluttering over her chest like a moth hovering over a flame.

Godric’s cheeks reddened in splotchy crimson patches. ‘I say!’

Millicent looked at each of them, straightening her shoulders. ‘Err, I meant there is a bug on her, just there.’ Millicent leaned forward and swatted at a non-existent insect on Nora’s white coat. ‘The words ran together in my alarm. Heavens, I wouldn’t want something nasty to sting you, Lady de Vane. You might swell in unsightly bumps or develop a fever if you aren’t careful.’ But quickly, her gaze returned to the approaching carriage.

‘It appears we have another guest to welcome. Lord Franklin St George, if I’m not mistaken.’ Drake watched Millicent carefully as he spoke the name.

St George was a prime suspect in Drake’s investigation. Was that why Millicent reacted so strongly to his arrival? Did she also know of his potential crimes? If she was engaged in her own investigation, was St George her focus as well?

Or did her reaction stem from something else? He knew his fiancée had a history with St George, but exactly what that history entailed was unclear. Drake didn’t gamble, but he would place money on the odds that Franklin St George was the bastard who compromised his wife-to-be.

A slow-burning rage filled him like hot tar. If St George was the man who treated her innocence so callously, his mistreatment of Millie was reason enough to kill the bastard, let alone whatever connections he might have to the sex-trafficking ring.

‘I’ve played cards with him at White’s before. Capital fellow. How do you know him?’ Godric asked.

‘He’s an old friend of Millicent’s, isn’t he, my love?’ He shouldn’t have used the term of endearment. It came out without thought. But he was too shallow not to enjoy Nora’s sharp inhalation or Millicent’s gaze completely refocusing from the carriage to Drake’s face. With two words, he had accomplished several goals.

Millicent’s lips parted. Whether her reaction was caused by ‘my love’ or referencing St George as an old friend, he could not tell.

‘I wouldn’t call him a friend, darling. More of a family acquaintance.’ Millicent drew out the syllables in ‘darling’, and Drake once more fought the urge to smile. She was sparring with him, even in the use of pet names. What an unexpected moment to find joy.

Fluttering. In his chest.

Definitely something to tell his doctor.

‘Shall we welcome him? And then we can all return to the house together.’ Nora smiled brightly. ‘Millicent, you must tell me how your maid was able to dress your hair so… casually. I wish I could be that brave in my fashion choices.’

Even Drake, with his limited knowledge of female warfare, knew a gauntlet had been thrown. Nora was waging her own battle, and terms of endearment were not her weapon of choice.

Millicent lifted a brow several shades darker than her fiery hair. ‘Don’t feel bad, Nora. Not everyone is as courageous as I am. For example, I would never let fear of competition ever stop me from claiming what I want.’ Millicent turned to Drake and gave him a dazzling smile. Whether her implied declaration of desire was real or simply a reflection of her competitive nature, the flutter in his heart turned into an alarming thunder. ‘Ah, here comes Lord St George.’ Millicent let go of Drake and stepped away from Nora and Godric. ‘Coming, darling?’ She was making it clear. Drake had a choice. He could stay with his brother and sister-in-law, or he could follow her.

Billy was right. She is a corker.

Despite his determination to maintain distance from the woman destroying any hopes of maintaining control, he had no intention of choosing his despised family over his desirable bride.

Drake took two long strides to reclaim his position by her side, recapturing her hand and tucking it in the crook of his arm.

‘Lead on, my lady.’

This was proving to be a most interesting wedding party.

Millie found Drake’s reaction to Nora interesting in the extreme. But she had no time to think on the deeper meaning of his choice to join her instead of remaining with his first love. She thought she had successfully cleared the biggest hurdle of her day when Drake joined her side, but she was wrong.

At least I’m used to being wrong.

One thing was certain. She did not like Elnora Drake. Clearly, the petite, beautiful, awful woman was rethinking her choice of spouse. And who wouldn’t when comparing Drake and Godric?

Nitwit of a woman.

Nora must have been devastated when Drake survived his imprisonment, and she lost her chance at his title.

Nitwit and a ninny.

Even if Drake had no title and Godric was the bloody King of England, Millie would rather spend her days with an impoverished, dangerous, decidedly devilish man than the bowl of pudding parading around in hideous pants and a canary-yellow waistcoat.

Before she could congratulate herself on being a far smarter woman than Drake’s first love, her first love rolled up and ruined everything. Per usual.

Franklin St George, Baron de Borogue, strode forward after stepping out of his carriage, leaving his poor wife to descend alone. Thankfully, the footman assisted her.

Millie tried to imagine Franklin St George drugging a young woman and then nailing her into a coffin to be shipped across the Channel and sold into sex slavery in France. Not a difficult image to conjure, actually. Her stomach rolled, nausea blooming.

‘Major General Drake! Wonderful to see you again. Victoria and I were thrilled to receive an invitation from one of my oldest family friends.’

Lord Franklin St George always had a weak chin. It was something Millie noticed even at the height of her fascination with him. Now, years later, his chin had not improved. He did have lovely, clear grey eyes, but the glint of malice in them ruined the colour completely.

Franklin glanced behind him at his wife. ‘Do hurry up, dear. I’m sure Major General Drake has more important things to do than wait for you to shake out your skirts.’

Victoria was a small, plump woman with strawberry-blonde hair. She wasn’t so much shaking out her skirts as trying to disentangle the lace from where it caught on the carriage step.

‘May I assist you, madame?’ Drake strode over, his black Hessians chewing up the distance easily. He bent over to pull Victoria’s skirt free, and Millie fought the urge to ogle his well-shaped bottom.

Stay focused!

Victoria fluttered her hand over her chest as Drake offered his arm to escort her to her husband. She had large eyes usually focused on her feet, a slight lisp, and her complexion was prone to splotch when she was embarrassed. As it was doing now. She sent her husband a wide-eyed glance as if seeking his approval to take Drake’s arm.

Dear Lord. She has no backbone at all. I’m sure Franklin walks all over her. Or worse.

Millie knew Victoria from their first season together. Millie and her best friend Ivy Cavendale both preferred to decorate the walls rather than parade on the dance floor. They struck up a friendship with Victoria, sensing she was of a similar ilk until the debacle with Franklin St George. Once he made his rejection of Millie clear and set his cap for Victoria, Millie hadn’t felt quite so friendly toward the girl. Which was stupid. She doubted Victoria had any choice in the marriage. And it certainly wasn’t Victoria’s fault Franklin abandoned Millie as soon as he dipped his wick and collected his money.

All the rumours pointed to Victoria’s father being quite the dictator. Then Franklin had stepped in. Millie presumed he picked up where Victoria’s father left off. The poor woman stopped attending events and was only seen at the largest balls, clinging to her husband’s arm despite his obvious attempts to ignore her.

What did I ever see in this man? And why on earth did I care so much about his opinion of me? Perhaps I’m just as big of a ninny nitwit as Nora.

Nora and Godric joined them then. Nora stood far too close to Drake and kept sending him looks that Drake completely missed. Or ignored.

Perhaps not.

Introductions were made. Millie endured Franklin grasping her fingers and pressing a kiss against her knuckles. She would need to thank Penny for insisting she wore gloves. And the quiet growl of Drake behind her, the way he placed his hand on the small of her back, deftly moving her away from Franklin, was quite lovely.

The group of six returned to the house where they were saved from awkward small talk as the rest of the guests returned from their tour of the grounds.

Philippa, looking regal in a deep-plum day dress trimmed with black lace, swept over to Millie. ‘Your betrothed has an excellent greenhouse. During our tour of the estate, I found the exact hue of roses I wish to plant in the gardens at Belgrave Square. Let me show you.’ She didn’t even glance at the other guests before walking out of the drawing room where everyone had gathered.

‘Ahh, the perks of being a duchess.’ Drake leaned close and whispered in Millie’s ear. Shivers tickled down her spine as cloves and leather once more invaded her senses. ‘Best follow her. I only wish I could join you.’ Then, as if he realised his actions, he pulled back, his shoulders stiffening.

Millie couldn’t stop the smile curling her lips, but it froze when she saw Nora manoeuvring for a closer position to Drake. The sneaky woman was batting her lashes at him, no doubt flashing an invitation with her bluer-than-a-bluebell eyes. And why shouldn’t she? Millie’s marriage was one of convenience, not affection. Of course other women would show interest in Drake. It was really none of Millie’s concern and one more reason why she couldn’t allow Drake’s moments of charm to woo her. It would only end in heart ache.

She resigned herself to the fact she couldn’t escape her marriage, but to continue her training with Philippa, she would need to establish a distant union. While she had no interest in pursuing a paramour, she was certain Drake would continue to find his pleasures in whatever way he currently found them. But the jealous rage filling her chest and making it impossible to breathe made her realise a distant marriage may not be to her liking.

Millie was in another pickle.

‘I would like to speak with you privately about an important matter, perhaps later this evening?’ Millie placed a hand on Drake’s arm, partly to reassure herself with his solid mass and partly to stake her claim. She glanced at Nora and narrowed her eyes, widening her lips in a vicious smile.

Back off, or you shall see how accurate I can be at throwing a knife.

Her hidden blades pressed against her skin, and she resisted the urge to tuck her fingers in the slit of her skirt and finger the knife on her thigh. It would be worth it just to wipe that smug expression from Nora’s face.

Drake shifted so his wide back blocked Nora from her view. ‘As would I. There are questions still burning in my mind, madame. Questions that demand answers. Though, I must admit, I’m all aquiver with curiosity as to what you wish to discuss.’ His sarcasm was softened by the warmth in his pale eyes.

Bugger. Speaking with Drake privately means I shall have to be very careful to evade his questions.

She would start the conversation first. Perhaps after she spoke her piece, he would forget all about her behaviour with Patricia.

‘Shall we meet before dinner? While everyone is getting ready?’

‘I’ll come to your rooms. I am beginning to enjoy playing your lady’s maid.’ His broken eyebrow rose as his lips twitched.

‘Scandalous, sir.’

‘I certainly hope so.’

Millie pinched his arm softly and turned before she convinced herself not to follow the duchess at all. Indeed, sparring with Drake was becoming one of her most favourite things.