Sins of a Duke (13 page)

“Your Grace, you should have Green accompany you,” Stanton said as he strode down the front step.

“I don’t need a wet-nurse,” Sebastian shot back, swinging into the saddle.

“Of course not. But…a great many people rely on you, and you’re obviously angry, and you haven’t said where you’re going.”

Sebastian pulled Merlin to a stop. He couldn’t recall
Stanton ever expressing his opinion so directly. And the butler had a point. Having a witness to a meeting with Josefina, though, even a discreet one, seemed at the moment both foolhardy and potentially dangerous. “I’ll be at Colonel Branbury’s house,” he said curtly. “Have Shay host if the guests arrive before I return.”

“Very good, Your Grace.”

Twenty minutes later he dismounted, handing Merlin off to a groom. “Leave him standing,” he said brusquely. “I won’t be long.”

As he reached the front door the butler pulled it open. “Good evening, Your Grace,” he intoned.

“I require a word with Princess Josefina,” Sebastian said crisply, stripping off his gloves.

“Her Highness isn’t in. If you would leave your card, I will inform her of your visit when she returns.”

Damnation
. “The rey and Queen Maria, have they returned from Scotland?”

“They arrived this morning, Your Grace, but they’ve all gone for an early dinner with His Grace, Lord Harek.”

“And where might they be?”

“I wasn’t informed, Your Grace.”

“And after? Where will they be going after dinner?”

“I am not at liberty to discuss the royal family’s schedule, Your Grace.”

Sebastian eyed the butler. He could break the man and get the information he wanted within a minute, but the ramifications would be more harmful than the information helpful. It was one of the few times that being no one of consequence would have been useful.

“Very well,” he said curtly. “Please inform Her Highness that I called. I will wait to speak to her at Vauxhall tomorrow night.” He turned on his heel.

Not many people dared rebuff him, and he had to give a point or two to Branbury’s man for his loyalty. He didn’t
appreciate being thwarted under any circumstances, and he badly wanted to track Josefina down. But the questions he had for her and her parents needed to be kept private until he had proof.

Proof
. Proof of what? He returned to Merlin and headed back to Griffin House. Proof that a supposedly fertile country was nothing but swampland? Proof that Costa Habichuela in its entirely probably wasn’t worth the hundred thousand pounds they’d been loaned?

Was that all of it? Embry had taken possession of a plot of mud and borrowed money against it. In itself the action seemed minor, until one took into account all of the Englishmen buying bonds to cover the loan. Their sure investment—the one he’d helped to arrange—was likely to lose them every penny they’d put into it. Banks had been forced to close over less.

As for him personally—well, he’d never trusted Josefina, and his suspicions had proven to be precisely on the mark. That fact did not make him feel any better, however. In fact, the only positive factor in all of this was that she probably had no intention of actually settling in Costa Habichuela.

He pulled Merlin to a stop. She could remain in England. He could…

“Stop it,” he muttered, and Merlin flicked his ears backward.

He could what? Continue to see her? At best she and her parents had fraudulently applied for a loan. At worst, they were stealing outright from the Bank of England and the citizens of London. In no way could he or would he associate the Griffin name with that kind of debacle. The loan disaster itself could do the family more harm than he cared to contemplate.

As he reached Griffin House again, light streamed from every window. A herd of carriages and horses clut
tered the drive and the stable yard, his grooms shouting at one another as they attempted to manage the chaos.

Sebastian sighed as he dismounted and tossed the reins to Green. What he truly wanted tonight was some quiet and a snifter of brandy so he could puzzle the mess out—though what he hoped to discover at the bottom of a bottle, he had no idea.

He desperately needed someone else who could corroborate John Rice-Able’s claims. At the moment it was the Embrys’ word against the professor’s. And people wanted to believe that the charming princess they celebrated was exactly what she claimed to be. Hell, he wanted that, and he knew better.

“Your Grace,” one of the house’s footmen said, pulling open the front door for him, “your guests have all arrived, and have gathered in the drawing room.”

He could hear the noise they were making from outside. “Thank you, Tom. See to your post.”

The footman bowed. “Your Grace.” He raced off in the direction of the pantry—hopefully not to hide, though that seemed a fair idea.

“There you are,” Valentine said, looking down at him from the balcony. “Damn.”

“Why are you cursing?” Sebastian queried, squaring his shoulders and climbing the stairs toward his brother-in-law. “Are you that unhappy to see me?”

“In a word, yes. Because if you’re here, I can’t escape to go looking for you. Remind me again why I’m a part of this lunacy?”

“Because you married my sister, which makes you part of the family, and Caroline married my brother, which makes her part of the family, which means we both have to spend the evening with Caroline’s other family.”

“And again, damn.” Valentine put an arm across his shoulders, steering them toward the drawing room. “They’re
all here, you know.”

“I know.”

“I mean all of the Witfelds. Even the married ones. And their husbands.”

“Damn,” Sebastian muttered.

“My thoughts exactly.”

Caroline had six younger sisters. At last count three of them were married, and one more engaged. Including Caroline, he probably had a baker’s dozen worth of Witfeld clan members in the drawing room—and that didn’t count their offspring. But since he couldn’t avoid them all, at least he could use them to distract himself, to keep himself from wondering where Josefina might be tonight. She and Harek were no doubt chatting and laughing while she plotted how next to bring more trouble to the Griffin doorstep.

With a slight grin Valentine pushed open the drawing room doors and stepped back to allow him unobstructed entry. Every face in the room turned in his direction. Good Lord, Valentine hadn’t been joking. Every Witfeld he’d ever met—and he was certain a few he hadn’t—stood in his drawing room.

“Good evening,” he intoned, pasting on a mild expression. Tonight he would play the amiable host, even if it killed him. He was accustomed to the role, after all, though it felt more difficult than usual this evening—all because at the moment he would much rather be chasing through London after a chit he simultaneously wanted to strangle and to kiss senseless.

The Witfeld herd bowed in an undulating wave. “Your Grace,” everyone breathed, as though he’d just descended from the heavens to share a meal with the mortals.

Taking a breath, he moved in to find the head of the Witfeld household. “Edmund,” he said, shaking the patriarch’s hand. “I hope you had a pleasant trip down to
London.”

“It was noisy, but no other complaints.” Witfeld moved closer. “I apologize for the size of the horde. With the cattle breeding doing so well, Sally decided all of our girls should get to see London. That meant we had to bring along three husbands and a fiancé, plus Susan’s two boys and Grace’s daughter.”

“The more the merrier,” Sebastian returned. “If you have need of anything while you’re here, please let me know.”

“I’m just hoping I don’t misplace any of them.”

“I’ve debated having bells sewn into Peep’s gowns. You might consider that.”

Edmund chuckled. “Don’t tempt me.”

For the next twenty minutes he waded through Witfelds and their in-laws. They’d wintered together the year before last at Melbourne Park, but he hadn’t seen any of them but Edmund since then. The main area of interest tonight centered around the youngsters, with Peep appointing herself her young cousin Rose’s guardian.

“Are you avoiding me, Your Grace?” a sweet feminine voice cooed from behind him.

He turned around. “Miss Anne,” he said with a smile, nodding at the petite young lady with honey-blonde hair and gray-green eyes. As far as he was concerned, the nearly nineteen-year-old was the only Witfeld chit aside from Caroline with anything resembling brains in her head. “I know your sister invited you to London a month ago. Why the delay?”

“Joanna threatened to follow me, as she’s also unattached. I didn’t think it would be wise to unleash her on the Town for the entire Season.”

Considering that Joanna two years ago had attempted to compromise herself in Zach’s presence and thereby trap him into marriage, Sebastian wasn’t about to argue the
point. “Thank you,” he said.

“You know,” Anne continued, looping her arm around his, “there are those who think you and I would be a good match.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Who are these people?”

Anne lowered her head, looking up at him through her long eyelashes. “My mama.”

“Ah. Well, my dear, if you weren’t sixteen years my junior, and if you didn’t terrify me no end, then perhaps.”

She laughed. “I told her that you’re no match for me. But watch yourself with Joanna. She refuses to be the last of us to marry.”

Sebastian glanced in Joanna’s direction, to find the silly girl looking in his direction.
Bloody wonderful
. “Thank you for the warning.”

She patted his arm. “I like having you in my debt.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Did I mention that you terrify me?”

“Yes.”

On the surface, Anne Witfeld and Josefina Embry were very much alike—confident, intelligent, and outspoken. Deeper inside, however, they couldn’t have been more different. Anne was what she presented to the world. Josefina, though, was a tumult of contradictory stories, emotions, feelings, and moods. All in all, in fact, Anne would probably have been a more manageable companion. But he looked upon Anne as a much younger sister with some disturbing tendencies toward being too clever for her own good. No, Josefina was the woman he wanted.

Sebastian blinked. He wanted her in his bed, that was. She was far too dangerous to his equilibrium and his peace of mind for anything more than that. And that didn’t even take into account the fact that she was very likely involved with breaking the law.

“Your Grace?”

Stanton stood at his elbow, but Sebastian had no idea
whether it was the first or the fifth time he’d spoken. “Yes, Stanton?”

“Shall I call for dinner?”

“By all means.”

The butler moved to the front of the room. “Dinner is served,” he announced, and pulled open the double doors of the formal dining room. As he stepped aside, the members of the Griffin and Witfeld families began a loud and laughing stampede to the doorway.

“Sebastian,” Nell’s low voice came, as she took his arm.

He leaned sideways, kissing her hair. “Thank you for coming tonight and helping to level the numbers.”

Surprise crossed her sensitive face. “You’re welcome.”

“Just please keep Joanna away from me,” he continued.

“I shall do my utmost.” His sister cleared her throat. “I came to see you yesterday afternoon. Stanton said you had urgent business at Eton.”

“I did.”

“You took Shay with you.”

Sebastian lowered his brow. “I frequently have Shay join me for business expeditions. What’s amiss, Nell?”

“Nothing, if all you went to see to was business.”

“Then nothing is amiss,” he lied smoothly. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, that would be true, and no one would discover otherwise until and unless he decided that he had proof, and that it was time for them to know. “Are you doubting my leadership of this family?”

She freed her arm. “You know, I thought something might be troubling you, and that you could use a friendly ear. But keep your mask on, Melbourne. Eventually when you wish to take it off you’ll find that there’s nothing beneath it.”

Sebastian inclined his head. “Thank you, my dear. It’s always nice to know where one stands.”

He supposed he could argue that the family didn’t want a
patriarch who bent and broke with every breeze, that though they might complain about his rigidity they actually relied on it. Any such conversation, though, would be a waste of breath. He knew what his family required to remain safe and secure, and he provided that regardless of the cost to himself.

And that was why the only thoughts he should be having about Josefina Embry were how best to distance the Griffins from any possible scandal. Under no circumstances should he be thinking about her smooth skin and her soft mouth and the fascination he found in never knowing what she might say or do next.

“—for luncheon tomorrow,” Eleanor was saying. “I think she might enjoy it, since she’s always talking about becoming a pirate and traveling the world.”

Penelope
. That had to be whom Nell was discussing. “That’s fine,” he improvised. “I’ll be in Parliament most of the day.”

His sister looked at him for the space of several seconds. “I know you’re human,” she finally said. “I’ve seen it.”

“Well, by all means continue your observation. I have a dinner to host.” He handed her to her seat and made his way to the head of the table. Yes, he was human. And where Princess Josefina was concerned, he needed to become less so. Immediately.

J
osefina stood on the front steps of Branbury House and waved as Harek’s coach rolled off into the night. Pleasant as both he and the evening had been, she was glad he was gone; all she’d wanted for the past few hours was the chance to retire to her bed chamber alone and think.

The rey stood in the foyer behind her as she turned around. “I think Melbourne may have done us a favor in withdrawing,” he commented, removing his gloves and handing them over to Grimm. “What an amiable fellow Charles is.”

She smiled. “He is that.”

“He wants to marry you.”

Josefina stopped halfway to the stairs.
Don’t be disappointed
, she told herself. Melbourne would never make such an offer, regardless. “I thought he might,” she said aloud.

“I haven’t given my definitive approval yet,” her father continued, “since for one thing I only met him this morning,
and for another I have to consider timing. With the land office opening tomorrow, interest will already be high. In a fortnight or so, when our celebrity has begun to recede a bit, that will be the time to make the announcement, I think.”

“You might ask me if I like him,” she countered.

He waved a hand at her. “Your mother said you liked him. We already discussed it. It’s more important, though, that he understand our goals.”

“I believe you can convince anyone of anything.”
Well, nearly anyone
. She drew a breath. “And now I shall say goodnight, because I am quite tired.”

The rey smiled. “Yes, get a good night’s sleep. The people will want to see you looking radiant tomorrow.”

She watched him down the hall in the direction of his office before she climbed the stairs. Once Conchita had helped her into her night rail and left, she sat in bed for a long moment, looking into the darkness and listening.

As the house settled into its night quiet she rose again and lit the candle on her bed stand. The prospectus she’d authored sat on her writing table. The other book, the one she’d borrowed this morning from Lord Allendale’s library, lay at the back of her wardrobe behind a stack of hat boxes.

She knew of a handful of people who’d seen Costa Habichuela with their own eyes—her father and his military colleagues, all of whom were presently in his service and shared his vision, and this John Rice-Able, whose book Melbourne had been reading when she’d found him in the library. Perhaps Mr. Rice-Able could answer a few of the questions that had very recently begun troubling her.

Silently she sat at the writing table and opened the book to the section on Central America.

An hour later the candle had burned down to a nub, and she’d read the entire section twice. Josefina sat back, rub
bing her eyes. It might not be true, she told herself, turning to her prospectus and flipping through it, re-reading some of her pasted-together phrases. Of course she hadn’t believed that her father had been gifted with a paradise, despite what he boasted, but Rice-Able described Costa Habichuela as hell.

“His book could be a lie,” she muttered, standing to return the book to its hiding place. Who was to say whether his book had any more credibility than hers? Simply because she’d never seen Costa Habichuela with her own eyes didn’t mean everything she’d put together had been false. Previously, though, she hadn’t cared. Her father’s letters emphasized what he wanted her to present in the prospectus, and she’d done so. It had been enough to secure their loans. But perhaps she’d done her job too well.

When something seemed too good to be true, a man was supposed to pause for a second to wonder whether that might be the case. If people invested in bonds without first doing research, they were foolish. Perhaps they shouldn’t have made Costa Habichuela so…perfect. But as of her father’s return from Scotland this had become more than a bank swindle. He was either selling poor, hopeful people plots of land that could be settled and made profitable, or he was tricking them into buying their own graves. And with Mr. Rice-Able’s written accounts, she had reason to doubt that her father’s descriptions resembled Costa Habichuela at all. And now it mattered; she might be a thief, but she wasn’t a murderer.

What was she supposed to do, though? Tell the authorities? Tell Sebastian? She might as well throw herself into the Thames. The safer alternative, then, was to do nothing. To allow her father to load his ships with immigrants and sail them across the Atlantic. If Melbourne and Mr. Rice-Able were correct, in all likelihood no one would ever hear from the settlers again, and if any did survive then she and
her parents would be long gone before anyone heard the tale—and with countless hundreds of thousands of pounds to secure their continued freedom and well-being.

Just do nothing. It would be simple. And she had more than a suspicion that even if the worst were true, and even if amiable Lord Harek were to find out about it, the wealth they would receive in exchange would be more than enough to compensate him for any blows to his conscience. With a duke along, their next money-raising effort would have much more respectability.

But then, what if the worst was true, and she did go along with it, and the authorities found out before they could flee? They wouldn’t just be imprisoned or transported for this. They could well be executed.

An icy shaft of fear ran through her. Even doing nothing might not be an option, if Melbourne went to anyone with his suspicions. And why wouldn’t he? He was a Griffin, a paragon of virtue, a legendary defender of England. They might have had sex, but according to him, that had been practically in defiance of his own best interest. So even if she might dream of being with him again, why should she believe for one second that he would choose protecting her over the welfare of what were essentially his citizens?

She’d nearly chosen him over her
own
welfare, and that was more and more clearly insanity. Being a good lover did not make him a good protector. And the fact that she believed Melbourne to be a good man made the circumstances even more perilous for her and her family, now that her father had decided that one hundred and fifty thousand pounds wasn’t enough.

She needed to talk to someone. She needed to tell her father about Sebastian, and hope that he would either be able to tell her that Costa Habichuela was close enough to a paradise that they had nothing to fear, or that he had
a plan to protect them. To protect her. As if he could possibly have a plan to protect her heart.

She went downstairs early to find both of her parents already eating breakfast. Another flutter of nerves twisted through her gut. First some answers about the true nature of Costa Habichuela, she told herself. Determine how much difficulty she—they—might be in. Only then could and would she decide what to do with what she knew.

“Good morning,” she began, smiling, and headed for the sideboard, though the thought of eating anything at all made her stomach roil. As Grimm held her chair for her, she nodded her thanks and sat opposite her mother, with the rey at the head of the table. “Grimm, please give us some privacy,” she continued.

“Of course, Your Highness.” The butler snapped his fingers. He and the two hovering footmen in the room vacated, closing the doors behind them, and in a moment she and her parents were alone.

“What’s this?” her father asked. “Charles will be here within the hour. We have a very important appearance to make this morning.”

“I’m aware of that.” Josefina sat for a moment, gathering herself. “Father, I have some concerns about this next step we’re taking. I think we need to discuss them.”

He lifted a light eyebrow. “We discussed this already.”

“Yes, but where are you sending these settlers?”

“Are you jesting?”

“I’m quite serious. I would like to hear exactly what your plans are.”

He set down his fork with a clatter. “I will not be interrogated by you. This project has been our sole concern for the past two years. Why are you questioning it now?”

“Because I think you left out some details,” she returned.
“I thought this was about loan money. And perhaps marrying me off to a peer. Nothing more.”

“That was the original idea.”

“Then why alter our plans?”

“Did you have any idea that we would be handed one hundred and fifty thousand pounds within a fortnight of our arrival in London?”

“No. Our reception here has been astounding.”

“Yes, it has been. We’ve been presented with the opportunity to double that. Perhaps triple it. We’ll never have to worry about money again. We can live like royalty.” He laughed. “What am I saying? We
are
royalty.”

“I have no difficulty with that,” she returned. “As of this moment, we’re only hurting the banks. They’ll have to refund that bond money to the investors or face riots. The citizens won’t lose anything but hopefully some of their naivete.”

“And?”

“And that changes once you begin selling land. These people are buying a dream, Father. A hope for the future. What are they going to find when they get to Costa Habichuela?”

“Paradise.”

She drew a breath. “That’s what we’ve told everyone else. What’s the truth?”

The rey frowned. “It is not your place to question me, Josefina. You will play your part with a smile. Because if you don’t, we’ll all swing for this. Do you understand that?”

Josefina swallowed. “I understand.” It was the closest he’d ever come to admitting anything, even about the loan money. The secret of their success, he always said, was to treat what they did as real, even among themselves. “Just tell me if there will be trouble when the ships and settlers arrive at Costa Habichuela.”

“I imagine there will be.” Stephen Embry leaned forward, grabbing her hand. “But we shall be gone from England by then. And Josefina, this is the last time we will speak of this.” He released her again.

Oh, dear
. She’d been right. Melbourne had been right. And once he heard about the land sales—if she’d been uneasy about it, she couldn’t imagine how he might react. Or rather, she could imagine it. “There’s one more thing,” she said quietly, misery rising in her heart.

“Make it quick. We can’t afford to make the household staff suspicious.”

“I know. It’s just that…” God, she didn’t want to say it. “Melbourne has been asking some very pointed questions about the conditions in Costa Habichuela. I don’t think he believes the prospectus. In fact, I know he doesn’t. He knows we took the information from other reports.”

Slowly her father pushed to his feet. “Did you tell him anything?”

“No! Of course not. But I don’t know what he’ll do when he learns that you’re—we’re—encouraging people to sail off and settle there.”

The rey strode to the sideboard and back. “Damnation,” he muttered, chewing on his moustache as he paced. “I should never have suggested his involvement. I was thinking of the benefit of having the Griffin name attached to ours, not that the self-righteous fool would delve into our affairs. This is my fault.”

Melbourne was a great many things, but she would never consider him a fool. “We should cancel our engagement with him at Vauxhall.”

“That won’t do any good. As you said, once he hears about the land sales he’s bound to do something. No, we’ll meet him as intended. I’ll take care of matters.”

The way he said it sounded ominous. “How?”

“Don’t worry yourself over it.” He snapped his fingers several times. “Just avoid him until tonight.”

“I’m going to luncheon with his sisters and his daughter.”

“Would he confide in them?”

Would he
? He seemed so private, even to those he knew well. “I don’t think so.”

“Then go to luncheon.” He crossed around the table again to kiss his wife. “I’ll meet you both in the foyer in forty minutes. I need to talk to Captain Milton. Vauxhall is a very crowded place, after all. Anyone can get in if they have the entrance fee. And a man like Melbourne has enemies. A number of them, I’m sure.”

As he left the room, Josefina looked at her mother. Nagging horror touched her as she considered her father’s words. “He wouldn’t,” she whispered.

“He’s angry,” Maria Embry soothed. “He’ll find a way through this. Your father is a very clever man. And I know he’s grateful that you told him of Lord Melbourne’s concerns.”

“Yes, but this isn’t about tricking someone into paying plantation rental to us or buying livestock that doesn’t exist, Mama. This—”

Grimm and the footmen returned to the breakfast room, and Queen Maria resumed her breakfast. Josefina tried to, but what little appetite she’d had was now gone completely.

She’d done her duty to her family, and told them about a very likely and serious threat. Her father had said he would deal with it. Therefore, everything was back where it belonged, proceeding exactly according to the plan the rey had begun mapping out two years earlier—except for the settlement of Costa Habichuela.

Why, then, did she feel sick with dread? If something happened now to Sebastian, it would be her fault. They
had no agreement between them, and she’d certainly never promised him anything, but this felt like a betrayal. Not just of him, but of her heart.

“Thank you for seeing me, Admiral,” Sebastian said, offering his hand to the uniformed man standing behind the large mahogany desk.

Admiral Mattingly had a warm, hard grip, and a reputation much the same. “It’s a pleasure, Your Grace,” he rasped, “though an unexpected one, to be sure. What may I do for you?”

At the admiral’s gesture, Sebastian took a seat, declining the offer of a cigar. “I have an odd request,” he began, wondering what the rest of his family would think if they learned that he’d left London and Parliament for the second time in three days, this time for Dover. “I’m looking for anyone who might have sailed along the eastern coast of Central America. I’ve been offered some timber at a very good price, but I would like an outside opinion of the quality before I agree to anything.”

“Most of our fleet’s either in the Mediterranean or along the western coast of Spain at the moment.”

“Yes, I know my odds aren’t very favorable, but I wanted to try.”