Sins of a Duke (3 page)

The duke sketched a bow, just deep enough to avoid insult, and shallow enough to make clear that he was doing no more and no less than custom dictated. “Of course.” He gestured to someone out of her line of sight. “Allow me to introduce you to our host and hostess for the evening, Lord and Lady Elkins. Thomas, Mary, Princess Josefina of Costa Habichuela.”

“You do us great honor, Your Highness,” the viscountess gushed, sinking into a deep, reverential curtsy.

That was more like it. “I’m very pleased to meet you,” she said, putting into her tone all of the graciousness she refused to grant Melbourne. Every fiber of her seemed aware of him, and the angrier and less controlled he be
came, the more she liked it. Not quite the course of action her mother had recomended, but she couldn’t deny that the results excited and aroused her.
He
aroused her.

“You must meet everyone,” Lady Elkins continued, reaching out as if to take Josefina’s arm and then obviously reconsidering. “If you’ll join me, Your Highness?”

“Yes, of course,” Josefina replied, and snapped her fingers at Melbourne. “Don’t wander too far, Duke.”

He favored her with a hard smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Princess.”

Good. Deliberately holding himself in check or not, at least the Duke of Melbourne understood his place. As for who would ask permission to touch whom, she would see about that.

A
s Lady Elkins led Princess Josefina into the admiring crowd, Sebastian turned his back and headed for the nearest floor-length window that opened onto the grounds. It was closed, but he shoved it open and stepped outside onto the stone terrace. Shaking, he clenched the granite balustrade in front of him so hard his knuckles showed white.

“Seb?”

He closed his eyes, trying to slow his breathing and the beat of his heart. “Go away,” he grunted.

Instead he heard the crunch of boots on old leaves as Charlemagne walked closer. “Apologies. People are talking, and I’m having a bit of trouble coming up with an explanation as to why Her Highness would hit you. Any suggestions?”

“Let it be.”

Shay cleared his throat. “Are you certain about that? The look you gave her when you were dan—”

Sebastian whipped around to face his younger brother.
“What look?” he snapped. If he couldn’t rid himself of this frustration, he was going to burst.

“Christ, Melbourne. Nothing.”

“What look, Shay?” he pressed. Angry, frustrated, aroused—whatever the devil she’d done to him, he couldn’t think straight. He advanced on his brother. “What?”

“Fine. Lust. You—you looked like you wanted to throw her on the floor and…I know that’s not you, but half a hundred people saw—”

“Lust,” Sebastian interrupted again. Heat burned just beneath his skin. Lust made sense. “Let them say what they will. My reputation can withstand the charge that I had a lustful look on my face.”

With a nod, Shay stepped backward. “Don’t kill me, but are you well? How about a whiskey? I’ll fetch you one.”

The duke looked at his brother for a long moment. “It may surprise you, but on rare occasion I do have baser thoughts.”

“You’re human, Seb. I know you’d like us all to forget that sometimes, but you are.”

If this chaos was being human, he didn’t like it. “Whatever thoughts I might entertain, I have no intention of acting on them. So go back inside with me, and laugh.”

“Laugh?”

“Yes. We’re highly amused by the eccentricities of Princess Josefina.” Putting his usual calm expression back on his face, he threw an arm across Charlemagne’s shoulders and steered him back in the direction of the ballroom. “So laugh, dammit.”

Whatever the devil the princess thought to accomplish by attacking and baiting him, she would learn that she’d just engaged in battle with a master. If she knew what was best, she would immediately surrender. Of course, considering how close he’d been to physical embarrassment earlier, the wisest course of action for himself would be to
call the meeting a draw and stay as far away from her as possible.

However strong his resolve to be untouched by any of this, the rest of the Griffin clan remained annoyingly attentive. The moment he convinced Shay to go away, Zachary and Caroline appeared. At least they served to distract him from the damned princess.

“It’s as bloody hot as Hades in here,” Zachary complained, tugging on his elegant white cravat and clearly doing his damnedest to avoid talking about anything significant.

“Of course it is,” Sebastian returned, keeping his back to the dance floor and whomever Princess Josefina might be dancing with. “You know how Lady Elkins feels about air from out-of-doors.”

“At least you could have the good grace to sweat, Seb.”

It was his internal temperature that troubled him tonight. “I’m a duke; I don’t sweat,” he offered. “Go dance with your wife.”

“I’m keeping you company.”

“You’re keeping an eye on me, you mean.”

“All I’m saying is that Shay and I wrestled for it, and I lost.”

Beyond Zachary’s shoulder a pair of cabinet ministers hovered, red-faced and sweating. Sebastian swiftly hid a frown of his own before it could alter his expression. Truthfully, after that slap he’d thought he would be mobbed with members of Parliament, all of them convinced that he must be weakening and that the Elkins ball was the time and place to attack. He only hoped one of them
would
anger him—he had a great deal of ire bottled up and waiting to explode.

“Your Grace,” a sweet, feminine voice cooed behind him, “surely you might take pity on a poor miss without a partner for the quadrille.”

Setting an amiable expression on his face, he turned around. “Lady Frederica. You look lovely this evening.”

The young lady curtsied, all burgundy gown and coiled blonde hair and impossibly long eyelashes. “Thank you, Your Grace. That’s very kind of you.”

“I would be pleased to escort you to the refreshment table, my lady, but I won’t be dancing again this evening.”

He knew the rules, and he knew how to use them to his advantage. He’d danced with the princess, but that could be seen as a clear exception. If he danced with Lady Frederica, however, every other lady present would with good reason assume he would be just as willing to partner with them. By refusing the first request he received, they should likewise all understand that he wished to be left alone.

He knew why they pursued him, but for God’s sake, after four years they should realize he had no intention of remarrying. The only way he could make it more clear was to hang a sign around his neck, and that would ruin his cravat.

Lady Frederica reddened. “Of course, Your Grace. An escort would be welcome.”

Very well, so now he would have to chat with a few of the other stubborn, marriage-hunting females prowling about tonight. It was still better than having to dance with them—and far easier to conclude.

And that was a good thing. He had enough on his plate this evening. As he looked up, he caught Princess Josefina gazing at him. Their eyes met, and she swiftly turned away. If she knew what was good for her, she wouldn’t protest when he sent her home all by herself. Because calm as he might look now on the outside, inside he felt just short of a predatory lion. And this lion intended to keep his pride intact.

“How was your evening, daughter?”

Josefina handed her cloak to her maid, Conchita, and made her way into the room her father had commandeered for his office. “It was abysmal,” she said, sinking into the chair across the desk from him. “I don’t know where you heard that the Duke of Melbourne would be able to help you forward the development of Costa Habichuela, but I found him to be aloof, rude, and arrogant.” Well, not aloof, perhaps, but definitely the other two.

She still fairly shook with unreleased tension, but except for blasted Melbourne, she’d done Costa Habichuela proud this evening, if she did say so herself. And she’d meant to be nicer to him. If he hadn’t surprised her by not appearing in person to escort her and then by simply walking up as though he owned the world, she would have reacted differently.

Or she thought she would have. Something about him just…sent her off-kilter. Insulting as his parting words were, perhaps it would be for the best if they simply avoided one another from now on. She certainly had enough to do without battling dastards.

“His assistance could mean the difference between success and failure,” the rey replied on the tail of her thoughts. “And I doubt we’ll find a more worthy spouse for you anywhere in England.”

“That may be a bit much to expect. He makes me uncomfortable.”

He looked up from the map that covered the desk between them. “That’s good. It will keep you on your toes. Complacency never led to anything but failure.” The rey smiled. “And just remember, though our royal ascension may be recent, we
are
royalty. And however arrogant he may be or how uncomfortable he makes you, your blood is bluer than his.”

“I think ice runs in his veins and not blood at all, but yes, I remember.”

Her father nodded. “That’s all I ask. Now get some sleep. We have a very full day planned for tomorrow.”

Rising, Josefina stepped around the table to kiss her father on the cheek. After three weeks on a ship from Jamaica, two days in a bumpy coach from Brighton, and one very long day in London, she could use some sleep. And she hoped that whatever her father had planned for tomorrow
did
include Melbourne. Perhaps they didn’t like one another, but she would not be the one to concede defeat. That would be for him to do.

“No. I won’t pay a penny more than four shillings a sack,” Sebastian said, reaching for a paper at his elbow.

“It’s rumored to be a very high-quality crop.” Shay made a note in the ledger book in front of him. “We paid three shillings eight last year.”

“It’s coffee beans, Shay. Not gold dust. Four shillings. I doubt they’ll find a better price elsewhere. Let them look.”

The middle Griffin brother nodded. “That’s all I have for now, then.” Slowly he closed the ledger. “So are we ever going to discuss last night?”

Sebastian cleared his throat. “No, we are not. I was forced by duty to dance with a lunatic, and I did so. The end.”

“But you were attracted to her; that was obvious.”

“Was it?” he asked sharply.

“To me. To the family, I mean. Caro nearly slapped Zachary, his jaw was hanging open so far. No one else noticed a thing, I’m certain.”

“She’s pretty.” He stood, practically shoving Charlemagne out of the opposite chair and into the hallway. “And a lunatic. I find the combination at first glance intriguing, and at
second glance horrific.”

“All the same, Seb, it’s been a long—”

“Stop it,” Sebastian interrupted. “I loved Charlotte. I still love her. With you and Zach and Eleanor married and procreating, and with Peep nearly eight, the Griffin bloodline is secure. That would be my only reason for pursuing anyone, and I’m grateful to all three of you for saving me from being placed in that position.”

“Still, even if you aren’t interested in remarrying, there is still the fact that sex is fun.” Charlemagne made a face. “Not with the lunatic, I mean, but there are any number of—”

“Have I
ever
given the impression that I require your advice or assistance with anything regarding women?” For God’s sake, one slap from that…female and his own family thought he’d lost his ability to reason. He could only imagine what the rest of his peers must be thinking. And that, unfortunately, could be a problem.

“Of course not. But the thing is, you haven’t shown the slightest interest since Charlotte died.”

“I believe that to be my affair. To you I’ll admit that Princess Josefina surprised me last night. From now on I’ll stay out of slapping range.” Sebastian forced a smile. “And I won’t be sorry to see her gone, something which will hopefully come about sooner rather than later.”

Shay spent another moment gazing at him. Sebastian didn’t know what he might be looking to see—regret? Evidence of prevarication?—but he wouldn’t see anything his older brother didn’t wish him to.

“Fine,” Charlemagne finally said, walking down the hallway. “You’re the one who can read minds, not me. You can hardly blame us for wanting to see you happy, though.”

“I am content,” Sebastian returned diplomatically. “And at any rate, bedding a mad woman would not be condu
cive to my continued peace of mind.”

“I’ll write Prask with our offer. I imagine he’ll accept it, since you’re right about the price.”

“I’m always right.”

As he walked Shay out the front door, he could feel the relative emptiness of Griffin House pushing against his shoulders. Peep was there, and servants aplenty, but it was a bloody large house for just Penelope and him to rattle around in.

“Melbourne?”

He started. “Apologies, Shay. What were you saying?”

“I just asked if you were still going to Almack’s tonight.”

“Prinny sent a note asking me to escort the Costa Habichuela contingent there, so yes, I suppose I am. I had to cancel my visit to Vauxhall with Peep. Lord and Lady Bernard are taking her and Mary Haley.”

“I wager it was a close choice, though, Lady Margaret Trent or Her Highness.” Shay shot him a brief grin. “You might want to put on Great-grandfather Harold’s suit of armor before you go.”

“I’ll consider it.”

Chuckling, Shay clapped him on the shoulder and made his way down the front steps to his horse. A moment later he was gone down the street. Sebastian watched for a moment, then turned back inside.

“Any letters, Stanton?” he asked, as the butler closed the door behind him.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Stanton lifted the salver off the foyer table. A pile of hand-delivered missives and invitations and calling cards awaited his attention. His secretary, Rivers, would have taken the business correspondence, which meant all of these here were social.

He scooped up the lot of them. “Thank you.”

“Very good. And Your Grace? I was instructed to inform you that Lady Penelope requests an audience at your earliest convenience.”

Sebastian grinned. “Where is she?”

“In the music room with Mrs. Beacham—and an unnamed friend.”

“Unnamed?”

“At Lady Penelope’s request, Your Grace.”

Dropping his correspondence off in his office, Sebastian climbed the stairs to the first floor. Even from the far end of the house and through the closed door he could hear the pianoforte. Either Peep’s playing had vastly improved since yesterday, or the unnamed friend was playing—and quite well.

“Please don’t let it be Lady Margaret Trent,” he muttered, and pushed open the door. “You wanted to see me, P—” he began, and clamped his mouth shut.

His daughter danced a jig across the floor, but she wasn’t what caught his immediate, startled, attention. Sitting at the pianoforte, an easy smile on her face as her fingers flew nimbly across the keys, was
her
. The lunatic. Princess Josefina Embry. The low tug began again in his gut.

“Papa, look!” Peep gestured toward the instrument. “She’s a princess.”

“Yes, I know. We’ve met.” Belatedly he sketched a bow. “Your Highness.”

Still playing, she inclined her head. “Melbourne.”

“If I might ask,” he said, sending an annoyed glance at Mrs. Beacham, “what are you doing in my music room?”

“I came to see you, actually.”

“I saw her at the door,” Peep took up, “and told her you were closeted with Uncle Shay. And then she said she was Princess Josefina, so I invited her to come listen while I took my music lesson. She grew up in Jamaica, and she
knows pirate music.”