Chapter 18

18

Drake could have held Millie in his arms forever. Knowing she was safe after nearly losing his mind imagining every possible worst-case scenario while racing across fields and forest to find her had taken years off his life. But he would happily trade a decade to the grim reaper if it meant Millie was safe.

While he shared her urgency to chase after the masked man, there was little chance they would catch him after such a head start. Given Lucy’s state and Billy’s injuries, it would be impossible to leave them while Drake and Millie pursued a ghost. It seemed prudent to get back to Alder House, secure St George, fill in Philippa and Reynard, then come up with a plan.

‘Why is Reynard not with you?’ Millie asked as she sat behind Lucy, holding the girl steady as she guided Medusa around an outcropping of rocks. With her skills as a horsewoman on full display, Drake was having trouble keeping his focus.

Billy listed left in front of Drake. He grabbed the boy with one hand while keeping his reins in the other. Billy had taken a hard smack to the back of his head, and while he insisted he was fine, worry gnawed at Drake’s heart. He wouldn’t rest easy until a doctor had seen both Billy and Lucy and declared them fit.

‘He went to help Lucy’s family search for her. I was going to join him when Philippa informed me of your early-morning ride.’

‘You spoke to Philippa?’

‘Yes. She is annoyingly astute.’

‘Agreed. What exactly did she say to have you galloping after me?’

‘She pointed out a truth I’ve been avoiding. I would very much like to tell you everything, but now is not the right time. Can you wait? Until we are home and alone?’ He ached to pour out his heart, but not on horseback with a traumatised girl and an injured boy between them.

Millie narrowed her eyes, watching him as they rode side by side. ‘I can wait.’

It wasn’t a declaration of love, but neither was it a dismissal. She gave him more than he deserved and less than he wanted. Cause to hope, but not reason to celebrate. Yet.

‘How did you find me? We had a healthy head start on you.’ Millie speared him with her sharp gaze.

The flutter in his heart returned with a few skips and a painful thump.

‘I learned how to track in the military.’

Her brow rose, a trick she must have learned from Philippa.

‘And Billy told the stable master his plan.’ He shrugged. ‘So, that helped.’

‘Ah.’ Millie’s dry response had his lips twitching.

God, he loved sparring with her. He only hoped he hadn’t lost his chance to continue their battles for the next five or six decades.

When they reached Alder House, Drake led Millie to the kitchen entrance. He had no wish to alert St George of their arrival.

Cook took in the bedraggled foursome with a raised brow.

‘Please, get Mrs Hammond and Penny.’ Drake’s tone was gruff, but he applauded the woman for her presence of mind. She blinked twice, turned, and gave a sharp command to a young woman up to her elbows in chicken feathers. The girl wiped her hands on her apron and rushed out of the kitchen.

While they waited, Cook put a kettle on to boil.

‘Tea’s what’s needed,’ she said stoutly.

Lucy was given a steaming cup of strong, black tea, while Billy’s was more milk and sugar than anything else.

Mrs Hammond bustled into the kitchen, her starched apron white as a dove, salt-and-pepper hair swept into a perfect bun, and grey eyes taking in every detail. Penny was right behind her.

‘Master Bright!’ Mrs Hammond clucked over him, her steady hands feeling his head for injuries. ‘Ice, Margaret. Now.’ She glanced at Cook, who nodded and quickly left the kitchen, taking a steep staircase into the darkness of the cellar.

Millie turned to Penny. ‘Please help Lucy to one of the guest rooms. You can have the lads bring up a bath and warm water. She’ll need help bathing, and then have Cook send up a tray. Eggs, toast, porridge, I think.’

Penny nodded. ‘I’ll find a fresh nightgown she can wear.’ She turned to Lucy. ‘Don’t worry, little miss. We’ll tuck you into bed snug as a bug until the doctor arrives.’

Millie smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Thank you, Penny. You’re a dear.’

Drake’s heart thumped painfully. God, she was beautiful. And calm in the chaos. And confident in her care of Lucy. And fearsome against her enemies.

She’s a goddamn wonder.

Penny helped Lucy from where she sat at the table, put her arm around the girl, and helped her out of the kitchen.

‘We should find Philippa. She can help us with St George. We might not be able to wait for Reynard to return.’ Millie chewed on her lip, distracting Drake. He wished desperately this mess was over so he could retreat with her into the safety of his room, strip her naked, hold her in his arms, and forget everything except her soft skin, her tart mouth, her lemon and cotton scent.

But first, they must apprehend a killer. Or, at the very least, a kidnapper.

‘Mrs Hammond, will you have the duchess meet us here, please.’ Millie’s husky voice was calm and soothing. It was easy to imagine her leading armies with her confident command and cool composure. She would have made a fierce lieutenant general.

Mrs Hammond squeezed Billy’s shoulder before nodding at Millie. ‘At once, my lady. Of course.’ She turned and took the servants’ stairs to the right of the kitchen table.

Drake sent a boy to the village to inform Lucy’s family she had been found and was safe at Alder House. They were welcome to come immediately and be with her until the doctor allowed her to be moved. Another lad rode like the Devil to collect the doctor. A third was told to find Reynard Renquist and have him return to the house post haste.

Cook arrived with ice.

‘Perhaps we should pour another dish of tea for the duchess,’ Millie murmured, taking the ice from Cook to hold it against Billy’s head.

‘The Duchess of Dorsett? In my kitchen?’ For a moment, Cook looked ready to faint. ‘I can’t have a duchess down here amongst the chicken feathers and pig intestines.’

Millie put a staying hand on Cook’s thick forearm. ‘Have no fear. She’s seen much worse in the ballrooms of the beau monde, I’d wager. This kitchen is clean, well-organised, and a credit to your skills. Chicken feathers and pig guts are all part of the charm.’

Cook ducked her head, and Drake couldn’t stop his smile.

Millie turned to him with a fiery brow raised. ‘What?’

‘Billy was right about you. You’re a corker, Millicent Whittenburg.’

Her cheeks darkened. Drake lifted his hand to feel the heat of her blush against his fingertips.

‘Please don’t tell me I was summoned to the kitchen to watch you two acting like idiots.’ Philippa entered the room, her sharp glare catching Drake like a barb.

‘Philippa.’ Millie turned away from him and quickly updated the duchess.

‘You went after the girl alone?’ Philippa’s black brow arched like a scorpion’s tail, readying to strike.

‘I didn’t have time to find you, Philippa.’

‘You trained her well, Your Grace. She saved the girl and wounded the masked blighter with her blades. You would have been proud.’ Drake jumped to her defence.

Millie looked over her shoulder at him, her full lips parting in surprise.

Yes. I see you. I know how brilliant you are. I just hope I’m not too late.

‘I am proud, but that’s hardly the point.’ Philippa glared at Drake.

‘Don’t you trust her to make her own decisions?’ God, it felt good to throw Philippa’s wisdom back in her face. Even if the duchess reached into her pocket and murdered him with whatever weapon she hid amongst the silk and lace.

‘Smug men are highly annoying and tend to end up with a bullet in their chest. I’d try to remember that, Major General Drake.’ Philippa returned her gaze to Millie. ‘We must apprehend St George immediately. Before he catches wind of this and attempts escape.’

‘I’ve an idea.’ Millie glanced at Drake, the worry in her eyes alerting him that he wasn’t going to like her plan.

Either I trust her, or this doesn’t work.

‘Tell us.’ He nodded.

She should never have told them her silly idea. Now, not only must she speak with St George. She needed to pretend a seduction.

I might be ill.

But it would work. She knew it.

For Queen and country, I suppose.

St George still hadn’t come down for breakfast despite the hour approaching noon. His valet informed them he stayed up late playing cards with some of the men and fell a little too deeply into his cups. Millie asked the valet to deliver a note to Franklin while he helped the bastard get dressed.

The servant gave her a quick nod, showing little loyalty to his employer. She could hardly blame the man. Her guess was Franklin treated his servants as poorly as his wife.

Millie waited for St George in the gardens. Philippa secreted herself behind a holly bush while Drake found a helpfully wide-trunked oak. They weren’t close enough to where she sat on a stone bench to reach Millie if Franklin became violent, but Philippa was an excellent shot, and Drake promised he could cover the distance in a moment if she needed him.

Do I need him?

She didn’t have an answer. Reynard’s words came back to her. She was Drake’s equal.

But can we become partners?

Another question with no easy answer. And one that depended on him as much as Millie. Could they trust each other so fully?

She shook her head. She didn’t have time for such musings when St George still needed to be contained and a masked man needed to be found.

She refocused on the garden path, waiting for Franklin to arrive.

Hopefully, her note would work. She indicated she could no longer fight her attraction to St George. With her wedding looming – less than two days away – she wanted to indulge in her passions before her monster of a fiancé became her husband.

It appealed to the man’s vanity while also giving him what he wanted.

Millie.

Just the idea was enough to make her toss up her accounts in the dormant rose bushes. But when she saw Franklin emerge from the house, she forced her lips into an eager smile.

St George strutted down the gravel drive like a peacock preening. He approached her, blocking her view of the oak.

‘I knew you couldn’t resist me forever, Millicent. But the question is, do I still want you after having to wait so long?’ He lifted his failure of a chin so he could look down his nose at her.

Millie stood, knowing her height always intimidated St George. She was taller than him, even when he wore lifts in his shoes. His gaze locked onto her breasts.

Lovely. I’m going to enjoy this next bit.

Millie rested her hand near the slit in her skirts. She spoke before he had a chance to make any advances.

‘I know about the girl, Franklin. If you tell me who you’re working with, I won’t tell anyone about your part in this.’ It was a lie, but one she hoped he would buy.

Franklin’s grey eyes widened. ‘What are you talking about? What girl? You said in your note you wanted to discuss a liaison. Is this girl an addition you want to make to our little twosome?’

She rolled her eyes, not even trying to hide her disgust. ‘No, you idiot. I lied. Please pay attention. I want to know who your brethren are in the Devil’s Sons. Who are the men organising this horrific trade of women, Franklin? Tell me now, and I’ll do what I can to keep your name out of it.’ For a woman who abhorred lying, Millie was pouring them out rather easily when it came to duping Franklin.

‘So you don’t want to have an affair?’ Comprehension dawned in painfully slow degrees. He grabbed her wrist in a harsh grip. ‘You stupid, little bitch!’ He hissed, pulling her close enough to smell the stale gin on his breath. ‘You don’t know anything! You can’t prove anything .’

‘I found Lucy.’

His grip tightened, and his sad little chin began to quiver.

I have you now, you bastard.

‘She is safe. And she identified you as her kidnapper. It’s over for you. Unless you tell me who you’re working with. It’s the only way out for you, Franklin.’

Watching his face pale as his eyes widened filled Millie with pride at a job well done.

‘It’s not possible. You’re just a silly, useless woman. How could you possibly?—’

‘I’m much more than that. I’m the woman who is going to ruin you far more thoroughly than you ever ruined me.’

He pulled back his hand in a move Millie had seen a thousand times from her stepmother. He was going to try to slap her.

He wouldn’t succeed.

As his hand flew, she knocked it aside with her left hand, then slammed her right fist into his throat.

Franklin’s face turned an alarming shade of purple. He clawed his throat with both hands, gasping loudly as he fell to his knees. She grabbed his head in her hands, slamming her knee into his nose. It exploded in a spray of crimson all over her dress.

‘Even my stepmother hits harder than you, Franklin.’ She spoke to his prostrate form as he writhed on the ground.

‘Miss Millicent!’ Reynard came running around the hedge, skidding on the pebbles as he reached her.

Franklin rolled onto his side, one hand cupping his nose while the other was pressed to his throat. High-pitched gurgles made the blood still pouring from his broken nose bubble in a most distracting way.

Philippa emerged from the holly bush as Drake sauntered over from the oak tree.

‘Nicely done, Millicent. Shame about your dress.’ Philippa eyed the crimson stain on Millie’s split skirts.

She looked down. Her favourite riding habit was a mess. ‘Yes. Next time, I’ll make sure to avoid breaking a nose if at all possible.’

‘Are you well?’ Drake’s icy eyes melted in the sunlight with an emotion Millie was too fearful to name.

Does he truly love me? Is that what this is?

Because words were one thing, but actions were quite another, and far more telling of a person’s true feelings.

‘What the actual hell is going on?’ Reynard looked at each of them, his voice rising. ‘I got word to return post haste, I left the search for the missing girl, saw Miss Millicent being accosted by Franklin St George. Meanwhile, you two were hiding in the shadows. Why did neither of you try to help? And when did you learn to fight like that, Miss Millicent? And why confront St George now? Will someone please explain?’ Reynard looked ready to explode.

‘I wouldn’t mind hearing this tale.’

Millie followed the sound of a vaguely familiar voice. She looked beyond Reynard to see a tall, dark, handsome man strolling along the walk with a petite woman at his side.

‘Hannah!’ She squealed and ran past a shocked Reynard to almost bowl her friend over in a massive hug.

Hannah and Killian were back! And standing in Drake’s garden. It was unbelievable.

‘Millie! We couldn’t possibly miss your wedding.’ Hannah’s strong arms tightened around Millie before releasing her. ‘When Robert received word, we cancelled the rest of our trip and took the next steamship to London!’ Hannah Simmons, former ward to Philippa, now Lady Killian, Duchess of Covington, was a sight for sore eyes.

‘Does Ivy know you’re here?’ Millie kept Hannah’s hand in her own, tugging her closer to where Philippa still watched over a whimpering St George.

Hannah’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. She looked happy and healthy. Marriage agreed with her fierce friend. ‘Not yet. The housekeeper told us you were in the gardens, so we came straight out. I see you’ve been busy.’

‘Hannah. You’ve arrived.’ Philippa nodded at her ward, but the twitch in her lips and slight tremor in her hand betrayed her emotions.

Hannah walked up to Philippa, wrapped her arms around the woman, and pressed a kiss to her smooth cheek.

Millie tried not to stare as she watched Philippa’s porcelain skin turn pink.

Dear Lord. The Duchess of Dorsett is blushing. May wonders never cease.

Philippa awkwardly patted Hannah on the back for a moment before pushing her away. ‘Yes. Well. No time for histrionics.’

Hannah smiled at Philippa. ‘No, we wouldn’t want to be labelled emotional females, would we?’ She poked St George with her toe. ‘Your work, Philippa?’

Philippa shook her head. ‘Millicent. She’s come a long way in a short time. You would be proud.’

Millie’s chest expanded as she tried to contain her joy. First, she took down St George singlehandedly, then Drake was giving her those smouldering looks full of something , now Hannah was here, and Philippa was complimenting her skills at warfare. If she wasn’t trying to dismantle a ring of flesh traders while determining if her future held marriage or a career or both, it would be a fine day.

Drake and Reynard were still huddled around Killian, slapping backs and shaking hands as men were wont to do.

Philippa nodded at the gentlemen. ‘We have much to do and little time in which to accomplish it. Gather the men. They might be useful. A rare event indeed.’

Philippa directed the men to secure Franklin in a wine cellar beneath the kitchen while Philippa and Millie filled Hannah in on everything she had missed.

When Drake, Killian, and Reynard returned, the entire group gathered on the lawn.

‘We need to interrogate Franklin. Once he’s able to talk again, that is.’ Millie looked at Drake. ‘How is he?’

‘Better than he will be after the House of Lords sentences him to hang.’

‘If he lives long enough to hang,’ Philippa added dryly, her arched brow combating his broken one. ‘The Queen has little faith in the House of Lords. If he is going to die anyway, she would prefer the sentence be fulfilled quickly without risk of a corrupt pardon.’

‘Vigilante justice is hardly worthy of a civilised nation.’ Killian crossed his arms.

Hannah put her hands on her hips, narrowing her gaze. ‘And corrupt lords are hardly up to the task of determining a fair judgement. I thought we already discussed this, darling.’ Never before had an endearment held such venom.

‘Discussing and agreeing are not the same thing.’ Killian’s eyes flashed at his wife. Millie wondered if she should throw a bucket of cold water on them. Clearly, arguing was a form of foreplay with Killian and Hannah.

‘If we are to be partners in this, we need to work on the same side. The right side. Queen Victoria’s side.’ Millie thrust out her chin. No point in beating around the bush. Either the men were with them, or they would work alone.

‘You would so quickly dismiss a justice system that has worked for centuries?’ Drake clenched his jaw.

‘The House of Lords has only tried one peer this century when we all know how guilty these men are of crimes ranging from theft to rape to murder. Yet the “honourable” lords refuse to hold their brethren accountable. Does that sound like justice to you?’ Millie faced Drake, refusing to be distracted by his bottom lip, or his icy gaze, or his wickedly erotic brow as it rose in judgement.

‘Perhaps we should all return to the house.’ Reynard stepped between the men and women who had created two distinct lines of battle on the manicured lawn. ‘Luncheon is being prepared. After the beating he took from Miss Millicent, St George can hardly answer any of our questions today. Why don’t we leave him to stew in the cellar, enjoy the rest of the day, and determine our next steps tomorrow morning after we’ve all had time to calm down and think?’

‘Allow me to illuminate the dangers of telling well-armed women to calm down and think, Lord Renquist,’ Philippa spoke quietly.

All three women slipped their hands into their pockets simultaneously.

‘What on earth is going on out here? Did someone organise lawn games without informing the rest of us?’ Patricia’s shrill voice announced her arrival moments before her glaringly fuchsia day dress came into view.

Millie never thought she’d see the day when Patricia actually defused a tense situation.

Apparently, it is today.

Both ladies and gentlemen took a few steps back, dissolving their lines of warfare.

‘Wonderful. My stepmother has brought the entire house of guests with her.’ Millie forced a smile and turned to the group picking their way over the frosty ground.

Drake stepped closer to her. ‘I would still like to speak with you privately. Please.’

Millie glanced at him, struck again by the heady contrast of his handsome features and violent scars. ‘Tonight. I shall send Penny to bed early.’ Her body warmed and her core melted even as her mind despaired. How could they possibly find a way forward when they fought for justice on opposite sides of a silent war?