Sins of a Duke (8 page)

“Because everyone speaks your name with bated breath. You don’t have enough people being argumentative or outrageous in your life,” she answered. “That is still my opinion.”

Then she left the room. He hadn’t mauled her this time, at least, but that was more because of the rapier than because of any self-control on his part. This Josefina, the less arrogant, more sincere one, seemed closer to being a princess than the previous one. And she attracted him even more. Still more troubling, when he talked with her, argued with her, kissed her, for the first time in four years he didn’t feel…lonely.

That had been close. Thank goodness she’d seen him reading that book. All her father needed was for a very influential duke to decide he didn’t like the Central American coastline and discourage all of his peers from purchasing bonds, discounted or not.

As a consequence, though, she had to keep him closer now than she felt comfortable doing. Having someone like Harek escorting her and courting her was much easier—Harek wanted power and prestige and money, and she wanted an ally. Melbourne, on the other hand, seemed to want…her.

“There you are, Your Highness,” the Duke of Harek said, approaching from the direction of the ballroom. “We can’t have you getting lost; that would cause an international scandal.”

Josefina smiled, taking his arm. “I’m pleased you’re here to look after me.”

“Not as pleased as I am, I’ll wager.”

Well, she could agree with that. “It might interest you to know that the Duke of Melbourne has offered to share his box at the theater with us. He wants you—and everyone else—to know that Costa Habichuela still has his support and endorsement.”

Green eyes swept across hers. “Is that the only thing he wants me to know?”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Come now, Your Highness. You have men falling at your feet. Melbourne, though, is considerably more serious competition than”—he looked across the room as they returned inside—“than him, for instance.” The duke gestured at a rounded gentleman with red cheeks and a kindly expression.

The fellow saw their attention, and excused himself from a circle of his fellows to join them. “Your Grace,” he
said, bowing, “would you do me the great honor of introducing me to your companion?”

“Oh, please, Henning,” Harek snorted. “What in God’s name for? It’s not as though you could have anything in the world to converse with her about.”

“I—”

“There you are, Francis,” a familiar deep voice came from behind her. The Duke of Melbourne moved around them to shake the round fellow’s hand. “Have you been introduced to London’s newest delight?”

“I say, Melbourne, no, I hav—”

“Allow me, then. Your Highness, Mr. Francis Henning. Francis, Her Highness, Princess Josefina of Costa Habichuela.”

Henning bowed even lower than he had for Harek. “A very great honor,” he said, as he straightened again. “You shine like a diamond, if I may be so bold.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Henning.” She glanced at Melbourne, to find his gaze on her. This surprised her; she’d thought him incurably arrogant and high in the instep, and yet here he’d arrived to rescue a man much below his station from embarrassment. Her new escort’s reaction had been high-handed and rude in the extreme. Was that how he saw her? She’d certainly been that way toward Melbourne, but that had been personal.

“What do you think, Henning,” Melbourne continued, “should I ask Her Highness for the next dance?”

Oh, dear, she’d barely had time to collect herself since their last conversation. The Francis fellow, though, was grinning. Whether that was because of the question or because the Duke of Melbourne was treating him like a bosom friend, she didn’t know.

“Most definitely, Your Grace,” he chortled.

All three men looked at her expectantly. To escape a dance all she had to say was that she’d already promised it
to her escort. Melbourne would go away, and she would have until tomorrow night to prepare for their next encounter. Still, if it kept his attention on her and away from meddling, she didn’t have much of a choice. Truthfully, it wasn’t a difficult decision, anyway. He was a very fine dancer.

She held out her hand. “If you think you can manage it,” she said.

Taking her fingers, he lifted an eyebrow. “As long as you resist maiming me, I don’t foresee any difficulty.”

Josefina could dispute that, but his touch made her tremble a little. “I make no promises,” she returned.

As Melbourne guided her onto the dance floor, he smiled. In response, her heart flip-flopped. Amazing, that a simple shifting of muscles could so alter a man’s demeanor. “You should do that more often.”

“Introduce you to untitled gentlemen?”

“Smile.”

“Ah. I’ll try to remember that in between slappings and attempted skewerings.”

“You know I never meant to run you through.”

Gray eyes assessed her. “What would you have done if I’d picked up the other rapier?”

The heat his presence caused began to spread. “You would never presume to prick me,” she returned in a low voice.

Music began. A waltz, blast it all. With a country dance they wouldn’t have been able to discuss anything…personal. His sensuous, capable lips curved again, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking.

His hand slid around her waist, drawing her closer. As they swayed and turned in time to the music, the fingers that held hers flexed.
Madre de dios
. She wanted to kiss him again, to feel his mouth on hers, to taste the desire she knew he had for her.

And still he said nothing.

“Is this the way you mean to refrain from arguing with me?” she finally interjected. “To have no conversation with me at all?”

“What do you wish me to say?” he returned in a low murmur. “That I’ve been thinking of pricking you since the first moment we met?”

She gulped a breath. “Have you, now?” she asked, heat spreading downward.

“Yes. You’ve been thinking the same thing, I’ll wager.” Slowly he pulled her a little closer to him.

“Then why is Harek your country’s new liaison to mine?”

Her father should never have requested that Melbourne be involved with something as precarious as Costa Habichuela, she began to realize. Harek was a much more suitable presence. Now, though, she had two dukes to deal with. And this one, the man who saw her far more clearly than she wished, the one whose touch made her shiver and whose kiss melted her insides, this was the one from whom she needed to distance herself. When he’d given her the chance, though, she’d intentionally drawn him back in.

“Harek is your new liaison now because I won’t be led down the garden path all unawares,” he returned.

She shook herself.
Concentrate, blast it all
. “Which garden path is that?”

“Yours.”

“I don’t know what you’re tal—”

“If I am seen in your company, it will be because I decided it should be so—not because someone else ordered or requested it.” His dark gray gaze held hers. “And I won’t be played for a fool.”

“I hardly think that trying to arrange a marriage between a duke and a princess makes either one of us foolish.”

For a moment he danced with her in silence. “You are a great deal of trouble,” he finally whispered.

“Oh, yes, I am that.” She smiled, trying not to shiver at the warm intimacy of his tone. “So what do we do next?”

“We attend the theater tomorrow night.”

“Yes, but when will you kiss me next?”

She thought something flashed behind his eyes—surprise? Lust? It was gone so swiftly that she couldn’t be certain.

“Tomorrow night, at the theater,” he returned.

Oh, my
.

“P
apa, I would like to go to the theater.”

Sebastian walked around the billiards table to make an intentionally poor shot. “I know you would. But the performance tonight is
Hamlet,
and I don’t think you’d like the ending very much.” Aside from that, he didn’t want Peep to witness any more of his barely controlled behavior around Princess Josefina Embry.

“Is it a tragedy?”

A second later he realized that she was talking about the play. “It is. A very large tragedy.” He stepped back as she made her own shot. It wasn’t bad at all; in another two or three years she could probably challenge even Shay’s mathematical precision. “I’ll make you a bargain, Peep. The next play to open at Drury Lane is
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
. If you’ll forego
Hamlet
, I will take you to see the other.”

His daughter leaned on her billiards cue. “Just you and me?”

“Just us.”

She nodded, her smile bright enough to put the sun to shame. “Then yes, I agree. You and I don’t get to spend as much time together as I would like.”

Sebastian tilted his head at her. “You think not?”

“Well, no,” she returned, lining up another shot. “Except for today, I feel like I’ve hardly seen you all week. I’m very busy, and you’re very busy. We need to make time for one another.”

“I apologize for that, then.” He knew he’d been distracted since Prinny had assigned him to Costa Habichuela, but he hadn’t been aware of neglecting Penelope. She was his world, after all.

“A very large birthday party with acrobats would make up for a great deal,” she continued.

“I see.” He stifled a grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Abruptly she set her cue across the table and faced him. “When I said just you and me,” she began, her small face serious, “I didn’t mean that it always has to be that way.”

Sebastian leaned his own cue against the table. “Beg pardon?”

“Well, my friend Mary Haley says that you have to remarry because I’m not a boy.”

“That’s not true,” he said slowly, considering his answer. “You can’t inherit my title, but your Uncle Shay can. I don’t need to remarry, and I don’t need a son. I have you.”

“But do you want to? Get married again, I mean. Because sometimes I think it might be nice to have another female in the house besides me.”

He walked around the table, crouching in front of his daughter. “You have three aunties, now.”

“Yes. And Aunt Nell knows all about fashion, Aunt Caroline is teaching me to paint, and Aunt Sarala knows how to charm snakes.”

“But?” he prompted after a moment, hearing the unspoken reservation in her statement.

Her face folded into a thoughtful scowl. “Nothing. They go home at night, and Aunt Nell has Rose, and nobody has me.” Tears welled in her eyes.

Sebastian pulled his daughter into a tight hug. “I have you, sweetling.” Christ. The thoughts of a seven-year-old humbled him. “Do you want me to get married again, then?” he asked, touching his forehead to hers.

“Not to Mary’s aunt. She laughs like a donkey.” Peep brayed in demonstration.

“So that was her?” he returned, forcing a grin. “I thought it was an actual donkey.” He pulled out his pocket watch. “Shall we adjourn for some luncheon? I have a meeting this afternoon.”

She kissed him on the forehead. “You’re a very good Papa, you know.”

“I do try.”

Rising, he took her hand and they went downstairs to the breakfast room. Peep wanted a mother. It made sense; she probably had only a very vague memory of Charlotte, and though they talked about her often, he’d noticed lately that the tales had the same feel to them as any fairy story.

Did he want to remarry? A year ago he would have dismissed the question. Two years ago, it would have made him angry. Now, though, he simply didn’t know.

What he did know, however, was that Mary Haley’s aunt would make a better match for him than Josefina Embry. For one thing, Lady Margaret Trent wasn’t heir to a Central American monarchy. For another, Margaret didn’t spin his head around as Josefina seemed able to do. He didn’t want his head spun. He liked being in control and having things go as they should.

He barely knew the damn princess, anyway. Josefina claimed to prefer him over Harek, but he doubted that would make any difference if Harek proposed and he didn’t. And he wouldn’t. Sebastian blew out his breath. If he had a
quarter of the heartless, calculating resolve he was well-known for, none of this should be troubling him. Yet obviously it was.

Damn the chit. What he needed to do was take a mistress, someone on whom he could exercise the physical demons that after four years had abruptly made themselves known again. Someone discreet, compliant, and with a pretty enough face that he could forget the dark-eyed one that continued to haunt him. Peep looked up at him.

“What’s wrong?”

Wonderful
. Now he couldn’t even conceal his emotions from an infant. “Nothing. Go ahead, will you? I need to make a note of something before I forget.”

She nodded, walking into luncheon without him. “Stanton,” he heard her say, “did Cook remember that I particularly like cheese toast and asparagus soup?”

“Indeed she did, my lady.”

Sebastian returned upstairs, heading not to his office, but to the library. There, over the fire, hung a portrait of his lovely Charlotte. Her blue eyes twinkled, even on the flat, painted surface. Chestnut hair coiled atop her head and escaped from the pins that held it, as though it had been ruffled by a stray breeze while she’d paused in the garden to smile at him.

He could still recall her voice, her laugh, her touch, just as he remembered her last days, when her skin had been pale and drawn, her eyes dull, and her smile a mask that hadn’t fooled either of them.

What he couldn’t remember was the last time she’d been in his dreams. For months it had been every night, to the point that if not for Peep and his siblings he wouldn’t have wanted to awaken again. Then she’d begun to visit a little less regularly, but still frequently—more days in a month than not. When, then, had it stopped? And why for the past five nights had he dreamed of someone else?

He knew Charlotte’s painted expression wouldn’t change, just as he knew without thinking that of course she would want him and their daughter to be happy. But he wasn’t certain whether it was happiness he would find with Josefina, or disaster.

Gathering himself, he ducked into his office and wrote out a swift note to Lord Beltram, one of the ministers of public records. If anyone could determine the present whereabouts of one John Rice-Able, Beltram could. Before he allowed his heart to become tangled in anything, even pure impossibilities, his mind wanted some answers as to why one person’s paradise was another’s insect-infested swamp.

“I don’t understand,” Conchita said, as she fastened the pearl necklace around Josefina’s neck. “You have two dukes courting you now?”

“No,” Josefina returned, taking one last look into her dressing mirror before she stood, “officially, I am not being courted at all.”

“But unofficially?”

She smiled. “Unofficially I think one of them wants to marry me, and the other one wants to bed me.”

“Jo—Your Highness!”

“I would call that a very promising beginning, wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t call it any such thing.”

Halfway out her bedchamber door, Josefina turned around. “Are you, or are you not, my confidante, Conchita?”

The maid dipped a curtsy. “I am, of course.”

“Then I will say such things to you, because you should know what’s going on.” She frowned briefly. “And because I certainly can’t say those things to anyone else.”

“I apologize, Your Highness.”

Josefina didn’t answer. After having Conchita with her for over ten years, she probably did tend to be a little over-familiar, but at the same time she wanted someone about whom she could trust.

None of that explained why she hadn’t mentioned to her maid that Melbourne had kissed her, or that he meant to do so again tonight. If the cause of Costa Habichuela required that sacrifice of her, she would make it. Josefina touched her fingers to her lips, smiling as her heart accelerated. She would make that sacrifice gladly, and would do so several more times, if required.

The Duke of Harek waited in the foyer as she descended the stairs. “You are lovelier than any creature on this earth,” he said reverently, bowing.

He’d probably hunted enough of those creatures to know. “Thank you, Your Grace. Shall we go? I’m eager to see the theater.”

Outside he handed her and Conchita into his coach, then climbed in behind them. As soon as the door closed, they rumbled down the drive.

“Did you attend the theater in Jamaica?” the duke asked.

“Whenever I could. The last two years, though, we were simply too busy.”

“I’ve been a bit starved for culture, myself. Theater in Quebec consisted mainly of natives dancing about in cured deerskins.”

“I hope we shall both be pleased, then.” Josefina was beginning to wonder whether he ever spoke a sentence that didn’t have a dead animal in it.

“Tell me, when does your father return from Scotland, Your Highness? I confess that I’m anxious to meet the rey and begin my official duties as liaison to Costa Habichuela.”

“You’re fulfilling them already,” she returned, “simply by allowing me to be seen. As for the rey, he meant for the trip to be a brief one, and he should be back in London by the end of next week.”

“Splendid. Most excellent.”

“Yes. I miss him and the queen, and we must begin purchasing supplies for our return voyage.”

“I hope there may be room for additional passengers on that voyage,” he said with a charming smile. “I’m sure there must be a few Britons who would like to start life anew, in the company of the right…well, companion.”

“That will be up to my father,” she returned just as smoothly. If he attempted to make his intentions any clearer, he would have to produce a pastor from his pocket.

“Of course.” He turned the conversation to fox hunting there in England, and seemed to think it would be something she would enjoy watching, if not participating in.

Finally the coach stopped, and he disembarked first. “I know which duke wants to marry you,” Conchita whispered as he handed them down to the ground.

“Hush.”

A horde of vehicles crowded the street in front of the theater. Once they made their way inside, so many people filled the lobby and flowed up the central staircase that she couldn’t even find her own feet. Princess, duke, knight, or wealthy merchant—in the lobby no one had room for a deep breath.

And then the path in front of her cleared. “This way, Your Highness,” the Duke of Melbourne said, offering his arm.

She took it gratefully, belatedly noticing that his brother, Charlemagne, stood just beyond him. Melbourne rarely seemed to go anywhere alone, though at the same time even a complete stranger would know who commanded the group. He wore all black tonight but for his stark white
cravat, and the result was…mesmerizing. Given the other females devouring him with their eyes, she wasn’t the only one to find him so.

“Is it always this crowded?” she asked, climbing the stairs beside him. Before them the crowd parted like a receding ocean wave. For one of the few times since this all had begun, she absolutely felt like a princess.

“You are the toast of the Town, Your Highness,” he returned. “Everyone wants to see the Embrys, who seem to be bringing London so much good fortune.”

“‘Seem to be’?” she returned, keeping the amused expression on her face.

“I know you slapped
me
,” he pointed out, humor deepening his voice. “Who knows how many others you might have maimed.”

“Only you, Melbourne.”

“You may call me Sebastian, if you wish.”

A breath shivered through her. “We’ll see.”

The upstairs crowd wasn’t as dense, and it was there that she saw people whom she recognized from other
ton
gatherings. And she realized that what Melbourne had said was true—as many theater-goers gazed at her as stared at him.

As they continued along the ever-more empty hallway, she glanced behind her to see Harek and Lord Charlemagne in step and discussing something—probably hunting—with Conchita a few feet behind them. After the crowd below, she was somewhat surprised that their party remained intact.

“Almost there,” Melbourne said in a low, intimate voice, sending her a brief sideways glance.

“This theater is far larger than the one at Morant Bay.”

He nodded. “London is a larger city than Morant Bay.”

“And I always had a chaperone with me,” she continued. “Is that why your brother is here? To protect you?”

“From you, I suppose?”

“Who else are you afraid of?”

A heart-stopping smile touched his mouth. “My brother is here to keep Harek occupied, in case you should need me to show you to a private closet.”

“And what if I don’t require that?”

“I leave it up to you, Your Highness.”

“You’re that confident, are you?”

He moved a fraction closer to her. “I suppose we’ll find out.” Melbourne straightened again. “Here we are. After you.” Pulling aside the rich red curtain, he gestured her to step inside his private box.

She felt as though she’d stepped into another world. This theater was easily triple the size of the one she’d frequented in Morant Bay. And the rows of theater-goers below looked like a glittering, multicolored ocean. And all of those people would see her sitting with two dukes and a lord. She smiled. Even her father couldn’t have dreamed of loftier heights.

“Your Highness, you and Harek take the front chairs,” Melbourne was saying. “Shay and I bow to your popularity.”

But she’d wanted to sit beside him. Three chairs sat at the front of the box, another four behind. Conchita had already claimed the least visible one in the corner. She didn’t suppose, though, that Lord Charlemagne would wish to sit in the second row by himself.

Melbourne held her chair for her. “You’ll have to imagine me sitting behind you, gazing at you, at the soft curve of your ear,” he murmured as she sat.