Sins of a Duke

For everyone who’s been waiting,
some patiently and some not,
for Sebastian’s story.
You know who you are.
Enjoy.

June 1813

F
rom the expressions on the faces of the soldiers who marched up from the Horse Guards, someone was in for a bloodbath. With a silent curse Sebastian Griffin, the Duke of Melbourne, galloped past them, reaching his destination a half mile in front of the soldiers. Not much distance, and not much time.

He pulled his bay stallion to a halt and swung to the ground. “Who’s in charge here?” he yelled into the wall of noise before him, scarcely noting his two younger brothers and his brother-in-law riding up behind him.

“That would be me,” a guttural voice came from the front of the angry crowd. A stout man dressed as most of his fellows were in the worn clothing of farmers and other members of the working class pushed his way through to Sebastian on one side of the crowd. “What d’you want, boy?”

Boy
. No one had called him a boy in seventeen years, since he’d inherited the dukedom at the age of seventeen.
He lifted an eyebrow. “I want to know why you think that battering down the gates of Carlton House will gain any of you either food or sympathy for your cause.”

“And who the bloody hell are you, to ride up on your fancy horse with your fancy friends?” the fellow demanded.

Sebastian ignored the question, instead turning to face the second group of riders just arriving. “Buy every food item in the market at Picadilly,” he instructed his secretary. “Have it delivered to Westminster Abbey.”

Rivers nodded, turning his gelding. “Right away, Your Grace.”

“Jennings, go with him. I want blankets and a selection of clothing for any who might need them.”

“Fast as the wind, Your Grace.”

When he faced the large fellow again, a portion of his belligerent expression had been replaced by confusion. “So you think you can give us some bread and a shirt and we’ll go away? That is not—”

“There are what, three hundred of you?” Sebastian broke in, taking a moment to look at the dirty, hungry, desperate faces in the crowd and resisting the urge to check over his shoulder for the soldiers. “Go to Westminster, and I’ll meet you there. We will sit down like gentlemen and discuss how to keep your people well and fed until your fields can be replanted and the irrigation situation improved.”

“I don’t—”

“If you persist in attacking the Prince Regent’s residence, he will be forced to summon soldiers for his own protection.” He held the man’s gaze for a moment. “You have children here, sir. Do not make this worse. Not when I give you my word to help you make it better.”

“I still don’t have your name, sir…Your Grace. Don’t know that I trust a nobleman.”

“I am the Duke of Melbourne. If you know anything
about me, you know that when I give my word, I do not break it.”

The fellow took an abrupt step forward. Both Shay and Zachary moved in, but Sebastian motioned his brothers back. These people were desperate, and looking for someone on whom to take out a season’s worth of frustrations. Damn Kesling for ignoring the plight of people whose farms bordered his estate. With a measured breath he held out his hand.

The muscles of his jaw jumping, the farmer shook it. “I’m Brown, Your Grace. Nathan Brown. And I have heard of you.”

“I will meet you in the Abbey in two hours, Mr. Brown.”

Brown nodded. “I’ll be there.”

At Mr. Brown’s encouragement, the crowd began to move east, in the direction of Westminster Abbey. Several of them grabbed his hands, and he smiled and nodded at them as they passed. As the last of them left the Carlton House gates, he took a deep breath.

“Well done, Seb,” his youngest brother, Lord Zachary Griffin, commented. “Considering that I only had one pistol with me, that might have been a bit sticky.”

“Mm-hm. Shay, go tell the Rector of St. Margaret’s that the Abbey will have guests for a day or two.”

His middle brother turned for the Abbey. “On my way.”

Sebastian swung back up onto Merlin. “So am I. I have a meeting in two hours.”

His brother-in-law, Valentine Corbett, Lord Deverill, flashed him a grin. “What do you do on mornings when you’re not rescuing the monarchy and feeding the poor and the destitute?”

“I feed Zachary, which can be nearly as perilous,” he returned, trotting over to have a word with a shaken-looking
secretary of Prinny’s as the man appeared on the far side of the gate, flanked by a half dozen equally unnerved royal guards. “The rest of you go back to whatever you were doing. Green will stay with me.”

His groomsman nodded, and the rest of his group departed, Zach and Valentine last. Though he pretended not to, he could hear their muttering about the chances he took and what might have happened if Mr. Brown had been armed with more than righteous indignation. As far as he was concerned, though, as a duke, and in particular as the Duke of Melbourne, he was doing no more and no less than his duty to the Crown, and to the people of England. And that was how he spent every morning. And afternoon. And evening.

Once he left Carlton House, passing the soldiers less than a street away from the Regent’s residence, he slowed the bay to a civilized trot more suitable for navigating Mayfair. Three streets down they turned onto Grosvenor Square and then up the gated drive of Griffin House. Sliding out of the saddle, Sebastian flipped the reins to Green and strode up the front steps as the groom took Merlin around the house to the stable.

As he reached the front door it opened. “I trust you were successful, Your Grace?” the butler asked, stepping back to allow Sebastian entry.

“Thankfully, Stanton. Is my daughter awake yet?”

“I don’t believe so, Your Grace. Shall I send for her?”

“Yes. I want to see her before I leave for Parliament. When Rivers returns, please inform him that we’ll have to reschedule our luncheon meeting for tomorrow. I’ll need to be at Westminster Abbey for a good part of the day.”

“Very good, Your Grace.”

Handing over his hat, gloves, and caped greatcoat, Sebastian strolled into the breakfast room. On the sideboard generous piles of bread, fruit, and sliced meats awaited
his selection, while the
London Times
had already been ironed flat and set by his place at the head of the table. He chose his meal and then seated himself to read about the latest tariff agreements reached between Britain and the United States, averting any possible renewal of hostilities between the two countries. According to the news writers, apparently His Grace, the Duke of Melbourne, had pressed the government until it came to its senses.

“For the moment, at least,” he murmured to himself, gesturing for coffee. One of the pair of footmen hurried forward to pour a steaming cup. Sebastian inhaled deeply before he took a sip. Thank God for the Americas.

“I was awake, Papa,” a lilting young voice came from the doorway, and he looked up.

“Good morning, Peep,” he said, grinning. “You look very pretty.”

At nearly eight years of age, Lady Penelope Griffin had begun to develop her own sense of fashion, and this morning she wore a bright yellow muslin dress dotted with white flowers, and a matching yellow hat covered with a profusion of white daisies. She curtsied to him before she pranced up for a kiss. “I am very fetching, aren’t I?” she returned, adjusting her hat.

“I take it you and Mrs. Beacham are attending Mary Haley’s birthday party, then?”

“Yes. I’m giving Mary a matching white hat with yellow daffodils.”

“You will be the loveliest young ladies in London, then.”

She took a peach and two toasted slices of bread from the sideboard, then sat at his elbow. “I think we will be. Might I invite Mary over to tea tomorrow?”

“I thought you were having luncheon with your aunties tomorrow,” he said, covering his slight frown.

“Oh, yes. I forgot. My schedule is frightfully busy these days, you know.”

For a moment Sebastian gazed at his dark-haired, gray-eyed daughter. It physically hurt to think that in ten years or so her schedule would include outings with beaux and evenings at soirees where he would watch her dance with eager young men.

“Vauxhall has acrobats tomorrow evening,” he said a little abruptly. “Why not ask Mary and Lord and Lady Bernard if they’d care to join us there?”

Peep bounced in her chair. “Acrobats? And jugglers?”

“I believe so.”

“Yes, please!” She took a large bite of peach, then looked at him sideways. “But you know that Mary’s aunt is visiting, and she’ll want to join us, and then she’ll want to marry you.”

Wonderful
. “Well, in that case, perhaps we—”

The breakfast room door opened. “Good morning, all,” his youngest brother, Zachary, said, sauntering into the room and heading directly for the sideboard.

“When I said you should go home, I meant
your
home,” Sebastian observed, smiling at his brother’s back. Obviously Zach had been designated to make certain the family patriarch had returned home in one piece.

“Caroline has a morning sitting with the Duke of York. She said my presence would remind him of you, which would remind him that he’s not very well liked in the House of Lords.”

“Is that because he had favors from that chit, and she made him promote all those soldiers?”

Good God
. “What do you know of that, Peep?” Sebastian asked his daughter, sending an annoyed glance at Zachary as his brother took the seat opposite her.

“Uncle Shay said that the Duke should learn to keep his trousers buttoned, and he wouldn’t owe women favors. Did she sew up his trousers for him?”

“Exactly,” Zach put in, chuckling. “The end result of all
this being that I get to come to Griffin House and have breakfast with my favorite niece.”

She shook her dark curls. “You shouldn’t say that. What if Aunt Nell and Uncle Valentine heard you? They would be hurt that you don’t like Rose as much as you like me.”

“Yes, Zachary, how would you ever explain to your sister that her daughter is inferior to mine?” Sebastian prompted, lifting an eyebrow and for the moment pretending that he wasn’t supremely grateful to have a bit of adult company about for other than preventing riots. Since Shay had married and left Griffin House last summer, things had been…He shook himself.
None of that, now
.

“Well, Rose is lovely, of course, but she’s only five months old. You have to admit that her conversation isn’t terribly sparkling.”

Penelope laughed. “That’s because she doesn’t have any teeth yet.” She reached across the table and patted her uncle’s hand. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll like her better when she gets a bit older.”

Zachary smiled back at her. “I’m sure I will. And I appreciate your discretion.”

“Of course. I don’t want Uncle Valentine to punch you in the head.”

“Thank you. Neither do I.”

They chatted about nonsense until Sebastian pushed away from the table. “Do you have a moment, Zach?” he asked.

His brother stood. “Certainly. Peep, I’ll give you a shilling if you put marmalade on that slice of bread for me.”

“Two shillings,” she said, reaching for the jar.

“Done.”

Sebastian stepped across the hallway to the morning room and half-closed the door as Zachary joined him. “Peep wishes to ask Mary Haley to Vauxhall tomorrow
night. Her aunt, Lady Margaret Trent, will likely be joining us.”

Zach made a face. “I thought you were going to ask me to help you with Mr. Brown and his very annoyed friends. Of course Caro and I will join you at Vauxhall.”

Sighing in relief, Sebastian clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Mr. Brown is simple. Lady Margaret I want to keep my distance from.”

“As if any of us want old pinch face added to the family.”

“Hm.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Not likely to happen regardless of your chaperoning services.”

His brother reached back to close the door the rest of the way. “Are you well, Seb? I mean…aside from your occasional morning acts of heroics, with just you and Peep living here now, it’s—”

“I am not having this conversation.” Sebastian clenched his jaw. “So whatever you’re implying, don’t trouble yourself.”

“I see. My apologies. Are you still bringing Caro and me to the Elkins soiree, then, or shall we fend for ourselves?”

“I’ll be by with the carriage at eight.” Sebastian studied the view out the front window. “And I’m well. I’m adjusting to a smaller household. Again.” To anyone outside of his family, he never would have admitted that much.

Zachary cleared his throat. “It’s just…Don’t bite my head off, but within the past two years Nell, Shay, and I have all married. You…I don’t wish to see you sad when we’ve all found such happiness.” He shrugged. “I know I’m not saying it well, but I do remember, you know. I remember you four years ago when Charlotte died. Just because we’ve moved out doesn’t mean we’ve abandoned you. The—”

“For God’s sake, Zachary,” Sebastian retorted, using
every ounce of his infamous self-control to keep his voice cool and level, “I’m not an invalid. And don’t try to put yourself in my boots. I’ve been the head of this family for the past seventeen years. Once you’ve held that responsibility for even a day, then you can empathize. Until then, you’ll have to take me at my word.” He took a step closer. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to leave for Parliament, then take luncheon with three hundred angry farmers and their families.”

Without another word he brushed past his brother, pulled open the door, and returned to the breakfast room. “Peep, my love,” he drawled, putting a smile back on his face, “promise me that you’ll tell me all about the party today when I return.”

She stood up, and he squatted down to hug her. “I promise. You’ll be home for dinner?”

“I should be home well before that.”

“And then you’re going to that ball with Uncle Zachary and everyone.”

“I have to, Penelope.” He hugged her tighter. “When I give my word to be somewhere and then don’t make an appearance, it hurts peoples’ feelings.” That didn’t even begin to explain it, but his daughter still had plenty of time to learn the nuances of being a Griffin and a duke’s daughter.

“Very well,” she said with a deep sigh, releasing him. “I love you, Papa.”