Sins of a Duke (19 page)

“Yes, it has.”

“I hope—did you talk to Peep? I don’t want her to be hurt by all of this.” Lady Penelope Griffin was such a sweet girl; it didn’t seem like more than a day or two ago that Josefina had felt that confident about her own place in the world.

Sebastian nodded. “I don’t think she quite understands it, but then neither do I.”

“How will you get out of it? Marrying me, I mean.” It would probably include her arrest and hanging, but she wanted to hear him say it. Hearing him condemn her would make her own decisions easier.

Steely gray eyes met hers. “I don’t know yet. My actions will depend on yours, I suppose.”

She glanced at the empty bed between them, and lust
swept through her like a warm breeze. “I assume that means you want something of me. I may be a bit mercenary, Melbourne, but there are some things I won’t do.”

“I’m reassured to hear that. Come here.”

“No. You come here.”

He regarded her in silence. Low heat spread through her, catching her breath and making her heart skitter. In brief moments of insanity she could imagine what it would be like to be married to this man—to be a princess, a real princess, every day for the rest of her life, to walk into a room on his arm, to always have that look he gave her now, only for her. She shivered.

“My question to you,” he said finally, “is where you stand in this. And I’m sorry, but you do have to choose.”

“Between you and my father?” she countered. “That’s not much of a choice, Melbourne, to either betray him or be used and abandoned by you. Or is your plan to whisk me away from danger, to find me employment somewhere in the country, perhaps as a governess? I should make a splendid governess, don’t you think?”

“I can protect you, Josefina.”

“Once the people who’ve dance with me, invited me to their homes, flattered me, courted me—once they learn what’s happened, who I really am, they will never speak to me again. I’m destroyed either way, Sebastian. And no, I’m not blaming you. I went along with this, and it’s on my head. But I do know where reality lies.”

Sebastian walked around the foot of the disheveled bed and stopped just in front of her. “You do know where reality lies,” he agreed quietly, touching her chin with his fingers and tilting her head up to look her in the eye. “Are you going to help me put a stop to the fiction?”

“I will not help see my father hanged.” A tear ran down her face. He wiped it away with his thumb. “I can’t do that.”

He leaned down and kissed her. Sebastian told himself he’d gone to see her tonight because he wanted answers; the truth was, he wanted her even more. Every bit of her aroused him. Even the way she refused to cooperate and make the situation easier for him. Everyone else cooperated with him—it was in their best interest to do so. It could be in hers, as well—enough people owed him favors or money that he could keep her from prison. She was right about one thing, though; Society would never forgive being made to look foolish.
Later,
he told himself. He would make things right later.

“This won’t change anything,” Josefina breathed as she pushed the coat from his shoulders.

“It’s already changed everything.” Sebastian slipped his fingers beneath the thin straps of material at her shoulders and drew them down her arms. Even her skin intoxicated him; smooth, soft, and warm, remembered and new at the same time. Her scent was different than Charlotte’s, lilac rather than summer roses. He was glad of that, though it didn’t take perfume to make him aware of the differences between Charlotte and Josefina.

He kissed her again, trailing his hands down her bare back to her hips and pulling her closer against him. Josefina was a trickster, an actress, and only in the past few days had he begun to realize that she had a conscience, and a heart. She’d risked a great deal, telling him what she had. And she was the key to the rest of it, if he could discover a way to resolve this without forcing her to do what she would otherwise refuse. It had recently become essential not to lose her. How long would he have been able to keep his vow of being rid of her? A day? A week? He’d lasted four hours.

“Sebastian,” she moaned, pushing at him.

He took a half step back, and she reached between them to unbutton his waistcoat. It followed his coat to
the floor, his cravat going after. When he ran his fingers lightly across her breasts, her nipples pebbled. Taking a shuddering breath, he bent down, replacing his fingers with his tongue.

Josefina reached down his back and tugged his shirt free of his trousers. He broke contact with her breasts only long enough to pull the shirt off over his head. The last time he’d been in this room with her, he’d ended with his boots on and his trousers around his knees. Tonight they had hours, and he intended to use them.

At the back of his mind he could acknowledge that this could be his last night with her, his last time to touch her, kiss her, take her. What he wanted was to give her so much pleasure, make her desire for him so overpowering, that he would finally be able to sway her to listen to his logic.

He teased at her with his tongue, with gentle nips of his teeth, and she gave a shuddering moan in response. Arousal tugged hard at him, but he resisted the urge to simply push her down on the bed and mount her like an animal. After four years of abstinence, by choice or not, being with Josefina made him feel as though he’d come to life again.

Releasing her, he sat on the edge of the bed to pull off his boots. Josefina swept around behind him, her breasts pressing against his back as she slid her arms down his shoulders and kissed the nape of his neck. Briefly he reflected that if they could simply remain in bed, they would have no problems whatsoever.

The logical, reserved part of himself began to submerge into the bliss of pure sensation. It was more than that, though. If all he’d required was an offer of sex, there were myriad women who wouldn’t have hesitated to climb into his bed.

“You know,” she murmured, “being with you is bad for me.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. “Is it?”

“Oh, yes. I would be risking much less if you were a shopkeeper or a banker.” She pulled on his shoulders, putting him flat on his back to look up at her. “And I imagine I am equally bad for you.”

“In all the time you’ve been privy to your father’s…plans,” he whispered, pulling her down over him to kiss her again, “how is it that until a few days ago you remained a virgin?”

Her lips smiled against his. “Perhaps I was waiting for you.”

Frowning, Sebastian rolled onto his stomach, ignoring the discomfort to his cock. “I’m already here, Josefina. And for God’s sake, I hear enough empty flattery every time I set foot out-of-doors to last me a lifetime. I asked a question. Pray either answer it truthfully, or decline to answer it at all.”

Deep brown eyes assessed him. “My father has always had a very high opinion of himself,” she said, sliding down on her hands and knees until she lay on her stomach facing him, just inches away. “Because of that, he insisted that everyone else also have a high opinion of him, and of his family. I had very good tutors and governesses, and an exceptional education. And since you want honesty, I wasn’t about to risk throwing away my…potential by falling into bed with a soldier or a tobacco farmer.”

“But I was worth the risk?” he countered, pulling her hand to him and sliding her forefinger into his mouth.

He felt her responding shiver. “That remains to be seen,” she returned. “But I do enjoy being in your company more than anyone else’s I can recall.”

Sebastian was not going to logic himself out of having her. Swiftly he sat up again to remove his second boot and unfasten his trousers. Pushing them down, he kicked out of them. “I didn’t think I liked surprises any
longer,” he said, putting a hand on the small of her back when she would have turned over. “You have proven me wrong.”

Slowly he ran his palms from her shoulders down her back, pausing at her round bottom, and then down her thighs and past her knees to the soles of her feet. Whatever it was about her that drew him, he liked it. He liked thinking as a man rather than as a duke with a world of duties and responsibilities. He liked the challenge of deciphering the twists and turns of her mind, and sinking into the soft curves of her body.

As he ran his mouth back up in the same manner she squirmed, moaning again. “Sebastian, stop teasing.”

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

“Then it’s not teasing.”

“But I want—”

He grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed. “However, if you insist,” he murmured. “Lift up.”

She rose to her hands and knees, and he slid the pillow beneath her hips. Her bottom tilted into the air as she sank back down again at the pressure from his hand. Hard and throbbing, he moved over her, placing his hands on either side of her shoulders, nudging her legs farther apart with his knee.

“Tell me that you want me,” he said, unable to keep the words from ending in a growl.

“I want you,” she gasped.

“Describe it,” he ordered, trying to slow his breathing and the hard pounding of his heart.

“I want you inside me,” Josefina said, arching her bottom against his aching, sensitive cock.

Adjusting himself, he pushed slowly forward, burying himself in her from behind. Tight, and hot, and exquisitely his. No other man had ever had her, and he vowed at
that moment that no other man ever would. “Like this?” he managed.

“Oh, yes,” she groaned as he began slowly pumping his hips. “Yes.”

Only now could he ask himself what the devil he was doing in this woman’s house and in her bed, because now he didn’t care what the answer might be. All that mattered at that moment was the sound of her rhythmic, barely stifled moans, and the indescribable feeling of their joined flesh. If the rest of their lives outside this room could promise half as much, he would never be able to part from her.

He didn’t want to, as it was. Sebastian kissed her shoulders, felt her shake and quiver and come. Slowing his pace, he drew it out for her as long as he could, until she gave a muffled cry into her bed sheets. “Want to try something else now?” he whispered into her ear.

She nodded, her fingers still clutched into the sheets. Pulling away, breathing hard, Sebastian turned onto his back and drew her over his chest. Josefina kissed him hungrily as he pulled her left leg across him so she straddled his hips. Immediately understanding, she sank down onto his length, her satisfied groan nearly sending him past his slipping control.

With his hand on her hips, he showed her how to move. A moan broke from his own lips as she caught on and began lifting up and down on him. “You’re a quick study,” he said, cupping her breasts in his hands.

Josefina leaned forward and kissed him again. “I want to see you lose yourself like I did,” she panted, riding him harder.

“I can’t,” he grunted, trying to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head. “It could mean even more trouble for you.”

“Sebastian, you don’t, ah, have to be in control every moment. Oh, my. Sometimes you’re not supposed to be.”

“With you, you mean? My lack of…control where you’re…concerned is what got us into this mess to begin with.”

“Good.”

He moaned again. “Good?”

“Yes. Good.”

He would have questioned her further, but he lost the power of speech. Trying to push her off him, he fought her for another few seconds, then exploded, shuddering.

“Damnation, Josefina,” he growled when he could speak again. “Don’t you realize what might have just happened?”

She draped herself across his chest, her black hair curtaining her face from him. “Why, do you think things could get worse?”

He brushed the midnight waves back so he could see her eyes. “Yes, now they can.”

Josefina lifted her face, looking at him from inches away. “Now we’re as tangled together in here as we are out there.” She flipped a finger toward the window and London beyond.

He frowned, more angry that she’d fought him than dismayed at what might have come of her—their—actions. “And you consider that a good thing?”

Her expression sobered. “Just think of it this way. The court won’t execute a woman who’s bearing a child.” Her voice caught.

For the first time he realized how frightened she must be by what he threatened. He’d been so concerned with his own righteous indignation that he hadn’t delved into her feelings. “If you’ll trust me, I promise you that no harm will come to you.”

Josefina held his gaze for a long moment. “You don’t know everything I’ve done. And not just in England.”

“When I climbed through your window,” he mur
mured, “I didn’t expect to find you lying here wearing a halo and angel’s wings, Josefina. My only question is whether you’ll make the right decision this time.”

“I don’t think I have much choice,” she finally said.

“Then tell me what you know.”

J
osefina groaned when Conchita flung open the bedchamber curtains. “Close those at once,” she demanded, pulling the blanket over her head.

“His Majesty says you must come downstairs. The Duke of Melbourne is here.”

But he’d just left. Josefina sat up, her heart hammering madly. “What do you mean, he’s here?”

Conchita smiled. “He must be anxious to marry you, Your Highness.”

Good heavens.
They were engaged
. In the deliriousness of last night and earlier this morning, she’d forgotten. If they were married, they could spend every night like that.
Goodness
.

She scrambled out of bed, grabbing her shift off a chair and pulling it on while Conchita stood up to her elbows in the wardrobe. Considering that she had no explanation for why she’d shed her nightrail and crawled back into bed
naked, avoiding the question altogether seemed the wisest course of action.

“What time is it, anyway?” she asked, frowning as Conchita held up an ornate blue gown. “Simpler. This is a morning visit; not a coronation.”

“It’s half ten,” the maid replied. “You must have been done in; I’ve never known you to sleep so late, Your Highness.”

Done in, and awake until nearly five o’clock, when Sebastian had finally climbed back out her window and slipped away. She felt sated, like a cat after a bowl full of cream. “I had a restless night,” she offered, going to the dressing table for her hairbrush.

“I think the rey did, as well. The green one?”

“Yes, that’s fine.” Josefina paused in her brushing, her heart skipping a beat. “What makes you think His Majesty also slept poorly?”

“He had Tomas up and attending him before first light, and then he spent near three hours closeted with Halloway and Orrin.” The maid sent her a sly sideways glance. “Considering who’s about to join the family, I imagine there’s a great deal of preparation to make.”

So he’d met with his cohorts about strategy, and she’d slept through it. Under the circumstances she felt grateful he hadn’t tried to wake her up to participate. She hadn’t told Sebastian everything last night, but she’d done enough—enough to enable him to stop her father or to throw the lot of them into prison.

She dressed and finished her toilette as swiftly as she could, then threw open her door and hurried downstairs to the morning room. In the open doorway she paused, relishing in the abrupt delight that coursed through her as she saw the man standing inside.

Sebastian lounged by the fireplace, a cup of tea and saucer in his hands and his gaze on her father seated
beneath the window. The duke had worn brown and gray, his cravat starched and white and not a fold out of place. Even if she’d never set eyes on him before she would know that this tall, lean man with the deep gray eyes and that sensuous mouth was someone to be reckoned with.

As though sensing her in the doorway, he turned and faced her. Her heart skipped again, for an entirely different reason this time. He was glorious. And that look in his eyes, the possessiveness and the desire, that was for her.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” he said, setting his tea on the mantel and sketching a deep, formal bow. “I hope you slept well.”

Josefina held out her hand to him, hoping her father couldn’t see her fingers shaking. “Good morning, Melbourne. And yes, I slept quite well, thank you.”

He strode forward to take her fingers, bringing them to his lips. At his touch, warm desire flew just under her skin. “Good,” he murmured.

“Now that the greetings are finished with,” the rey said from his chair, “let’s settle matters, shall we?”

Sebastian turned again to face her father. “Before I set pen to paper about anything,” he said, his voice cooling, “I have several matters I want clarified.”

Her father stood. “Until you put pen to paper and sign your agreement to marry Princess Josefina, lad, I simply don’t feel comfortable discussing anything else. A monarch’s, and a father’s, prerogative, I suppose.”

“I go into nothing blind.” Before her eyes the gentle, passionate Sebastian vanished, replaced in the same instant by the implacable Duke of Melbourne. “That is my prerogative.”

“Then I will leave it to you to explain why you proposed to my daughter as a jest. Are you so mighty you think to toy with royalty and escape unscathed?”

For a moment the duke stayed silent. “The advantage
I provide to your…mission
is
my respectability and my status,” he said quietly. “Putting me in a position where either is compromised would undo whatever it is you hope to accomplish by adding me to the equation in the first place.”

“What I hope to accomplish,” her father retorted, his tone less even than the duke’s, “is secure loans to aid my country, and settlers to do the same. That is how we arrived in England, and that is how we shall leave.” He narrowed his light blue eyes. “Anything that counters my statements is merely jealous rumor and speculation.”

“If you expect me to throw my lot in with you, you’re going to have to do better than make pronouncements.”

Her father drew himself up straighter. “You seem to be assuming, Your Grace, that I am perpetrating some sort of fraud. While I admit that our prospectus was partially…borrowed from other sources, that was only done in the interest of saving time better spent setting up a government.”

Heavens
. He seemed so sure of himself that she could almost believe it. Did
he
? Had his wish to be someone important become so all-consuming that he now believed his own fantasies? Was he mad?

“I see,” Sebastian said slowly. “Perhaps I have sped to conclusions I should not have. You must tell me what I would be signing, though. I don’t think that’s an unreasonable request.”

“All I wish you to put in writing is that you will marry my daughter, making her your wife and duchess, and that you will contribute to the betterment of Costa Habichuela in your speech and writing, and by pledging us a sum of say, twenty-five thousand pounds annually.”

Josefina blinked. “Twenty-five thousand?” she gasped. “Father, that’s outrageous! It’s far too much.”

“I won’t debate Josefina’s value, but only my willing
ness to part with sums I could better use to support her. Five thousand a year.” Sebastian
hadn’t
blinked.

“Twenty.”

“Ten, or I might as well purchase my own country.”

The rey’s jaw twitched. “Ten, then.”

“And your daughter would not become a duchess,” Sebastian went on, his fingers brushing hers as he spoke. “She has a higher title, and would retain that.”

“The…” For the first time her father hesitated.

Of course he would want his daughter to have a legitimate title over a lofty invented one. Sebastian was brilliant—and yet he hadn’t wavered about the marriage, itself. Surely he knew he couldn’t marry a soldier’s daughter who routinely tricked people out of their money, even if the betrothal hadn’t been just a ruse invented to save his life.

“I was the only one declared a ruler,” the rey said a moment later, pacing to the window and back, knotting his fingers together as she’d seen him do on countless occasions when he was working through some plan or other. “Maria and Josefina’s titles are honorary. She would of course assume the title of Duchess of Melbourne upon her marriage to you.”

It sounded like complete nonsense, but Sebastian merely nodded. “Josefina’s children, then, would be noble, and not royal.”

“Yes. Correct.”

“Who will inherit your kingdom, then?”

She expected that to stump her father, but he smiled. “You will. And then
you
will be Sebastian Griffin, rey of Costa Habichuela. And still the Duke of Melbourne, naturally.”

“Naturally.” Sebastian regarded the rey. “I think the chasm of our differences is narrowing.”

“I’m gratified to hear that. This is a situation where all of us can do quite well for ourselves if we proceed wisely.
Mine is a new monarchy. I won’t deny that of course your alliance with Josefina lends more respectability to my cause.”

“I don’t join enterprises that don’t make me money,” Sebastian returned in such a matter-of-fact tone that Josefina looked at him. “Particularly when I have concerns over the fate of British citizens. To satisfy me, you will give me both your written assurance that I will be made rey upon your death, and a guarantee that this will be profitable beyond the pittance of loan money designated, I assume, for you.”

“I can’t guarantee that,” her father retorted.

“I can, if you would allow me to advise your investments.”

“Why should I trust you to do that?”

Sebastian smiled, charming and cold at the same time. No wonder most people feared to cross him. “Because I will be a member of your family, Your Majesty. What affects you, affects me, and vice versa.”

That hit on her father’s main point in encouraging the marriage. Josefina watched him, waiting to see whether he would accept Sebastian’s offer, or whether the duke had put too neat a ribbon on the package.

“You have the reputation for being a man of honor and principle, Your Grace,” the rey said, taking a seat once more. “Pray excuse me if I find your conversion somewhat…convenient.”

The duke snorted. “‘Convenient’? It’s anything but.” He lifted an eyebrow. “It was your initial plan to involve me, was it not? Prinny said you requested that I be the one to assist you.”

“Perhaps.”

“Then I suggest you take advantage of my participation.”

Josefina held her breath. Whatever Sebastian was do
ing, obviously her father needed to cooperate in order for it to succeed. But was she at this moment standing by and letting Melbourne set a trap for her father that could end in his incarceration and death?

The rey held out his hand. “Agreed. With reservations.”

Sebastian shook the proffered hand. “I believe I can set your mind at ease.”

“What will set my mind at ease is seeing you standing in a church beside my daughter.”

“I require one month to make the arrangements,” Sebastian said calmly. “A duke and a princess cannot marry without ceremony. We can do without the reading of the banns, but I will have to get dispensation from Canterbury. We will have to hold an engagement ball. And as the wedding will take place at St. Paul’s, there are a limited number of dates from which to choose.”

“St. Paul’s,” her father repeated reverently. “Why not Westminster?”

Sebastian’s face stilled. “My first marriage took place at Westminster,” he said tightly, the first real emotion she’d heard from him all morning touching his voice. “This one will be at St. Paul’s, or not at all. I will not negotiate that point.”

“St. Paul’s will be lovely,” Josefina said firmly, then faced her father. “And a month between the engagement and the wedding seems very short as it is. I don’t want to give the appearance that we’re rushing anything.”

At Sebastian’s sideways glance she had to fight off a blush. After the first time she’d refused to let him leave her as he’d climaxed, it had seemed pointless for him to do so the other four times. Obviously she—they—were tempting fate, but after this disaster with her father she would be parting company from his troupe, anyway. And she would end up ostracized from Society regardless.

“Yes, you’re right, of course,” the rey agreed with clear
reluctance. “I suppose I can delay everyone’s departures by an additional fortnight.”

“I believe we are in agreement, then. I’ll have my solicitor draw up the papers, and we can sign them this afternoon.”

“Very good.” Her father walked to the door. “As you two are now betrothed, I’ll leave you alone for a moment to talk.”

Her heart began pounding all over again at just the thought of spending another few moments in privacy with Sebastian. He gripped her fingers, squeezing them, and met her gaze for the briefest of seconds. Then to her surprise he let her go and walked after her father.

“We’ll have time to talk later,” he said. “If I’m to return by…” he consulted his pocket watch “…four o’clock, say, I have a great deal to do.”

The rey stood aside as Melbourne passed him, stopped in the foyer to collect his hat and gloves, and left the house. The warm parts of her chilled as the front door closed behind him. She shook herself, trying to be rid of the abrupt feeling of loneliness with which his departure had left her. He’d been trying to tell her something. What, she had no idea.

“A month before the wedding,” her father grumbled. “I don’t like it.”

“A month is still pushing the boundaries of propriety,” she said. “He couldn’t make it sooner than that. And neither could we.”

“Yes, yes, I know. But it gives him too much time.”

“Time for what?” she asked, keeping her voice as calm as she could. “To change his mind? He’s putting the agreement in writing. Melbourne would never risk crying off after that.”

“That’s not what troubles me. He’s up to something. My guess is that he means to have me give over all of the loan
money to him for investment, at which time he’ll seize the funds and attempt to expose me.” He smiled. “Well, I have a surprise for him. He’s not getting a single penny.”

Oh, dear
. “If he’s trying to trap you, he’ll be suspicious if you don’t go along with his plans.”

Her father stroked his moustache. “Yes, he will be. Excuse me, Josefina. I have a few things to mull over.”

“Of course, Father.”

She sank into a chair as he left the room. A disaster. It was all a disaster, and she was directly in the middle of it. Sebastian suspected her father, her father suspected Sebastian, and each thought she was on his side. “Damnation,” she muttered under her breath.

If she had someone to talk to, someone with whom she could reason things through, this would have been so much easier. But she knew of no one in whom she could confide. The only women she’d begun to consider friends were Sebastian’s sisters, and they would be on his side. Her mother, or Conchita, even, would both side with their own survival, which meant they would support her father. As for the men in her life, they were even more polarized.

Sebastian had warned her this would happen. The middle ground was fast disappearing, and she needed to choose a side. Legally, morally, the Duke of Melbourne held the high ground. Siding with her father, though, gave her two things—a chance at escape from prosecution, and something that had become absurdly important over the past day: marriage to Sebastian.