Sins of a Duke (5 page)

“At ninety pounds to the hundred the interest rate can’t be more than three percent—say over ten years?”

“That sounds fair and equitable.” Stephen Embry gave a rueful smile. “We do, however, have one more point to discuss.”

“The amount of the loan,” Melbourne supplied. Josefina couldn’t read his expression; if she didn’t know better, they might well have been discussing the weather. “I assume you have a figure in mind, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, I do. To establish import and export, and even immigration, I will need to hire ships, purchase cargo, and of course establish a permanent consulate here in London. I think one hundred thousand pounds should cover that.”

Sir Henry choked. “One hun…hundred thousand? Good God! I thought you would ask for twenty thousand or so.”

“Twenty thousand would hardly be enough for us to approach anyone on equal footing,” the rey replied calmly. “As His Grace said, we are very young. We need to begin from a position of strength or we will never find one.” He blinked, as if suddenly remembering something. “I’m such a fool. Orrin, the prospectus, if you please.”

Melbourne raised an eyebrow. “You have a prospectus?”

“I had a surveyor write one last year, as we prepared for our trip here.” The minister pulled a fat manuscript from his satchel and handed it over. “It details everything,” the rey continued, leaning forward to set it on the desk. “Agriculture, temperature, climate, trading routes, population and growth equations—and it’s illustrated.” He flipped open the leather cover to reveal a sketch of a three-masted rig sailing into a harbor, mountains behind it in the distance and a picturesque mixture of houses, huts, and paved roads flowing down to the dock at the water’s edge below.

“San Saturus, I presume?” Melbourne drawled.

“Yes. And a very good likeness, if I say so myself.”

“This is most impressive,” the banker said, pulling the prospectus around to flip through several of the pages. “Rainfall, planting seasons, even figures for wood harvesting.”

“As I said, Sir Henry, we are very serious about placing Costa Habichuela permanently on the map. I would like it to be listed there as an ally of England.”

The banker stood and stuck out his hand. “One hundred thousand pounds.”

The rey rocked to his feet and shook hands with Sir Henry. “My deepest and most humble thanks to you, sir.”

“Congratulations,” Melbourne put in, his gaze moving
once more to Josefina. “You don’t happen to have another copy of that prospectus, do you?”

“We had a dozen printed,” she said. “I’m afraid the rest are at Colonel Branbury’s house, however.”

“Come by at eight o’clock tonight,” her father suggested. “We’ll have a brandy before we venture to Almack’s, and I’ll give you one.”

The duke nodded, turning for the door. “I will. If you’ll excuse me, I have some business to take care of before tonight.”

“Good day, Melbourne. And thank you.”

“Until tonight.” His parting glance was at Josefina, and she took a slow breath. She needed to secure his interest. Apparently she already had his attention.

“J
ust why are you dragging me to Almack’s?” Valentine Corbett, the Marquis of Deverill, muttered as he tried to balance half a glass of scotch in the rocking coach.

“Because you married my sister and you’re now part of the family.” Sebastian snagged the glass from his closest friend and took a swallow. “And because you’re incurably cynical.”

“A character trait of which I’ve always been proud.” Deverill recaptured the scotch and nearly had it jostled out of his grip. With an annoyed scowl he opened the coach door and tossed out the liquid, dropping the glass onto the seat beside him. Out of their sight on the street a male voice yelled a curse.

“Valentine. That’s my crest emblazoned on the door, you know.”

“And this is a new jacket. I didn’t want to see it ruined. Though after wearing it to Almack’s I may never want to
see it again.” He sat forward. “So I ask you once more, Melbourne. What am I doing here?”

“I want your opinion.”

“Very well. On what?”

This time Sebastian frowned. “I’m not certain.”

“That’s helpful.”

“Just keep your eyes and ears open tonight.”

“Regarding your new royal friends, I suppose?” Valentine looked at him, then sat back again. “Very well.”

It would have been so much easier if he’d known what it was that had been tickling at him all afternoon. For a former soldier, Stephen Embry definitely knew his way around matters of finance. With two years to formulate a plan, however, he
should
have been knowledgeable. The rey was also glib and charming—but again, if he hadn’t been, King Qental wouldn’t have been moved to grant him a substantial piece of the Mosquito Coast. Granting the loan made sense—even with a hundred thousand pounds at risk, the probability of a profit to investors was very high. And the benefit of having another friendly port in the New World couldn’t be overstated.

“What do you know about Central and South American politics?” he asked, since he couldn’t be more specific even if he wanted to be.

“Only the broad strokes. Spain governs most of it, but the independence movement seems to be filtering south from the Colonies. Bits and pieces are being chipped away, and Spain’s not happy about it. With Bonaparte in their home territory, though, their focus isn’t on undeveloped land an ocean away.”

Sebastian cracked a brief smile. “I sometimes forget that you do pay attention.”

“I’m a husband and a father, now. I’ve found that that circumstance both narrows and broadens one’s perspec
tive.” He kicked Sebastian in the ankle. “If this is going to be another lunatic assignment from you of the keeping-an-eye-on-someone sort, I want more details. What’s going on?”

“You heard about last night, I presume.”

“The chit slapping you and then you dancing with her? No, didn’t hear a bloody thing.”

“Mm-hm. Prinny’s gotten some sort of honor from them, and he thinks very highly of the rey and his entourage. For me, what’s the saying? If something seems too good to be true, etcetera, etcetera.” The explanation was as vague as he could make it; Valentine was as sharp as a knife blade, and no one needed to know that he’d blundered so far as to kiss Princess Josefina.

“I’m a damn chaperone.”

“You—”

“Shay’s the diplomatic one. Why isn’t he here?”

Sebastian cleared his throat.
Because Shay already thinks I’m interested in the chit
wouldn’t suffice; he wanted an unbiased opinion of the entire situation, not his…insanity where it came to Josefina. “I want eyes, not diplomacy.”

“You’re being obtuse, and I think it’s deliberate. But since you’ve dragged me along, I shall do my utmost to fulfill my duty at whatever it is I’m doing.”

The duke nodded. “That is all I ask.”

Ten minutes later as they left the carriage, Colonel Branbury’s butler opened the front door for them. “Your Grace, His Majesty awaits your pleasure in the drawing room. This way.”

“Thank you.”

With Valentine on his heels, Sebastian followed the butler upstairs. The house was well-kept, if small by his standards, and he guessed that Branbury had been a compatriot
of the rey’s when Embry had served in the British army. “Where is Colonel Branbury, if I might ask?”

“The colonel has given over his house to the Costa Habichuela delegation,” the butler returned, “though he has been called back to the Peninsula. He hopes to return before the end of the Season.”

Did Branbury’s absence mean something? Bonaparte
had
been creating havoc on the Peninsula, so the timing of the colonel’s trip might well have been mere coincidence.

Stopping before a set of double doors, the butler knocked and then pushed them both open. “His Grace the Duke of Melbourne and guest, Your Majesty, Your Highness.”

Princess Josefina sat in one of the chairs beside the fire. Sebastian tried to steel his expression, the effort hampered by Valentine elbowing him in the back and muttering “‘And guest’? Since when am I ‘and guest’?”

Sebastian bowed, deliberately keeping his gaze on the seated rey rather than the princess. “Your Majesty, Your Highness, may I present my brother-in-law, the Marquis of Deverill? Valentine, this is Stephen Embry, the Rey of Costa Habichuela, and his daughter, Princess Josefina.”

They both remained seated. Recently crowned or not, neither the rey nor his daughter seemed to require any schooling in social rankings. Sebastian rubbed his left eye to cover the jump of his muscles.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Lord Deverill.”

“And I you, Your Majesty,” Valentine returned with one of his charming smiles. “Sebastian mentioned something about brandy.”

“Yes, indeed.” Finally the rey rose, gesturing to the footman who stood beside the liquor cabinet. “Three brandies and a glass of red wine, if you please, lad.”

“Very good, Your Majesty.”

As Valentine wandered over to collect his drink, Sebastian finally turned his gaze to Princess Josefina. For the
barest of moments his breath caught. Tonight her silk gown was violet, dotted with silver to look like starlight.

“Join me, Melbourne,” she said, gesturing at the chair her father had vacated.

“Of course.” She smelled like lilacs, he decided as he moved past her to sit, though the scent was more likely deadly nightshade.

“So, Your Grace,” she continued in a lower voice, while behind them Valentine and the rey chatted about boots, “have you finally decided to mind your manners?”

“I’m searching for the most diplomatic way to offer you another piece of advice,” he countered, focusing on the emeralds dangling from her ears, sparkling against the midnight of her hair. The ear bobs jangled as she shifted, and he blinked, refocusing in time to see her gaze on his mouth.

“I don’t expect diplomacy from you. Say what you will.”

Even if she wanted to begin an argument, he would not play along. He’d learned that strategy. “I only wanted to advise you that it is the custom here for young ladies making their first appearance at Almack’s to wear white for their presentation to the patronesses.”

Josefina looked down at her dress. “Don’t you like my gown?”

He swallowed, his cock twitching. “It’s very nice. But that’s not the point.”

“What would those patronesses say to a young lady who didn’t bow to their dictates?”

Was that hesitation? Until this second he’d never seen her unsure of her footing. “I’ve seen them ask girls to leave, never to be invited back again,” he answered truthfully.

“That’s absurd.”

“I agree. But it’s also custom.”

“I am not customary.”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “No, you are not that.”

“They wouldn’t dare ask a princess to leave.”

Wouldn’t they? They counted a minor princess among their number. “Honestly, Josefina,” he said in a low voice, “I think you should wear white. Your father is trying to find investors, and some of them will be in attendance tonight. You seem eager to cause a stir, but I do not recommend one of that sort.”

She swept to her feet, the lilac scent intensifying. “Stuff and nonsense,” she muttered. “Is there anything else I should know about this wretched assembly?”

“If you wish to waltz, you have to be presented to the patronesses and gain their permission.”

“Very well. I will wear white, and you will present me.” With that she stomped out of the room.

“A female presents you,” he amended to her back as she vanished.

A snifter of brandy appeared over his shoulder. “As Zachary would say,” Valentine murmured, “St. George’s buttonholes. That chit is exquisite.”

“She’s mad,” Sebastian returned feelingly, keeping his voice down as the rey approached them. “And irritating.” He faced her father. “Do you have a copy of that prospectus for me, Your Majesty?”

“I do.” The rey lifted the tome from a side table and handed it over. “And let me say again how much I respect your business acumen and how thankful I am that the Regent has appointed you to aide us.”

Sebastian inclined his head. “Will Queen Maria be joining us tonight?”

“Yes, she will.” The rey chuckled. “The one universal truth about females everywhere is that they take a very long time to dress.” He turned his attention to Valentine. “I hope His Grace might encourage you to invest in Costa Habichuela as well, Lord Deverill.”

“The—”

“Ah, there she is. Maria, you know Melbourne. And this is his brother-in-law, the Marquis of Deverill.”

A more matronly version of her daughter, Queen Maria stopped inside the drawing room doorway to curtsy. Where her husband seemed friendly and agreeable, the queen fit the traditional view of royalty—elegant, quiet, and a little aloof. Her daughter had inherited all of those qualities except for the reserved tongue.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” she said, straightening. “And thank you, Your Grace, for informing Josefina of the proper custom of dress for this evening. We were unaware.”

“My pleasure, Your Majesty.”

“I expected more retainers or guards or hangers-on running about the house here,” Deverill commented. “Melbourne’s got more than this, and he’s considered spartan in the area of minions.”

“We’re in the process of recruiting more of them,” the rey said, chuckling.

They talked about the weather and other insignificant topics for the next ten minutes. Sebastian was grateful that he’d brought Valentine along, because the marquis held up their end of the conversation while his mind wandered elsewhere. Mostly his fingers itched to open the prospectus and delve deeper into Costa Habichuela. At the back of his mind, though, he was waiting, listening for footfalls on the stairs just outside the door.

Did he like her? Did he hate her? Certainly no one in his thirty-four years had ever spoken to him as she did. All he knew was that in her presence he felt like a lion prowling for its next meal; dark, primal, and not the least bit civilized or even rational.

As long as he was aware of it, he supposed that he
would be able to carry on with his duty to Prinny and ignore it. God knew he’d set aside his personal needs and feelings before.

He heard her come back into the room as the others continued to chat. Blowing out his breath, he faced her.

She wasn’t in white. Rather, a flowing, low-cut gown of ivory draped from her like cascades of shimmering water. With her pale skin, black hair, and dark eyes, she looked like a porcelain doll. A very sensual porcelain doll.

Her lips parted a little, and she smiled at him. “Better?”

He should never have opened his mouth and told her to change clothes. Good heavenly God. This was trouble. She was trouble. “Much more appropriate,” he said stiffly. His mouth felt dry.

“You’ll make me blush, giving me such compliments,” she returned, eyes glittering.

“There you are, my dear. Shall we go, Your Grace?”

Grateful for the distraction, he turned his back on her. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

From the corner of his eye he caught Valentine glancing at him before the marquis walked over to offer his arm to the princess. Sebastian didn’t like that, but he immediately buried the emotion.
Splendid
. Now even Deverill had better manners than he did. But if he touched Josefina now, without giving himself a moment to put some distance between her and the…turmoil she roused in him, he would kiss her again. Or worse.

“Thank you, Lord Deverill,” Josefina said, taking the marquis’s arm. Melbourne probably would have left her standing there in the drawing room and gone ahead without her if he could.

It didn’t make sense. Men didn’t walk away when they
were attracted to someone. Not when both parties were unmarried and of compatible social rank, anyway. For heaven’s sake, if anyone turned away it should be she, because he was only a duke.

“Tell me about Costa Habichuela,” Deverill suggested as he handed her into the coach.

With her parents seated on one side and Melbourne by himself on the other, at this moment the duke wasn’t going anywhere.
Ha
. She sank onto the leather seat beside him, pressing closer as Deverill stuffed himself in next to her. “I haven’t seen much of it, I’m afraid,” she said, smiling at the marquis.

“You haven’t?”

“Well, my mother and I were able to join Father for two days in San Saturus,” she conceded, noting that there wasn’t so much as an inch of give to Melbourne’s side as she rocked against him. It was as though he was fashioned from granite. “That was when our ship anchored in the harbor to collect the rey on our way to England.”

“Where did you reside, then?”

“Morant Bay, in Jamaica, most recently. With my father fighting against Spain in the Americas, he wanted Mother and me somewhere safe and stable. Once he received Costa Habichuela, he was so busy organizing a government and surveying the country that he requested we remain in Jamaica and do what we could to aid him from there.”

“And a tremendous asset Josefina has been, believe you me,” her father put in. “Sharp as a dagger point, the princess is.”

“Father,” she interrupted, more for effect than out of shyness.

“It’s true. And Maria has been invaluable, as well,” the rey continued. “She’s the daughter of a viceroy, you know.”