Beside her, Conchita reached over to fluff her sleeve. “Ready, Your Highness?”
“Even if I wasn’t, since Mother and Father are on their way to Scotland to talk with the banking ministers there, I don’t think I have much choice.” She drew a breath. “But yes, I’m ready.”
Lieutenant May hopped out to lower the coach steps and offered her a hand to the ground. As she emerged, the true size of the crowd struck her.
More than two hundred people lined the street in front of the Bank of England, and the doors hadn’t even opened yet. They’d advertised the availability of the stocks in the newspaper only yesterday, but the well-heeled queue wrapped all the way around the building and into the alleyway.
As they approached, Sir Henry Sparks emerged from the group of employees standing at the entrance. “Good morning, Your Highness,” he said, beaming. “Quite a turnout we have, isn’t it?”
“This is amazing. Do you think they’ll mind if I say something?”
“I think they would love it.”
Lieutenant May turned a crate on its side and helped her onto it. “Good morning,” she said in a carrying voice, and the noise around her died down. “I am Princess Josefina, and I want to be the first to welcome you to your new partnership with Costa Habichuela!”
The crowd roared. At Sir Henry’s signal, the bankers opened the door and stepped through. Behind them, the queue moved forward. Costa Habichuela was officially open for business.
She stepped down and waded into the crowd, recognizing many of them from her excursions into their ballrooms and assembly halls. For over an hour she smiled and shook hands and answered questions. Originally Melbourne was to have been with her, but all her father had said that morning was that there had been a change of plans. In a way, though she could have used his presence to further bolster investor confidence, the day’s goal was to sell bonds—not to think about kissing Melbourne.
Finally she thanked Sir Henry once more, and nodded at May. The lieutenant helped part the crowd again for her to exit. Applause followed her as she stepped back into the carriage.
“My goodness, that went well,” Conchita exclaimed, grinning. “Your father will be so pleased.”
“I’ll send him the news as soon as we return to Branbury House,” she said, settling back and fanning her face. They had all worked so hard for this, and now, finally, they could begin to see the results.
At the moment, though, she looked forward to nothing so much as a quiet sit-down with a book. Her face felt stretched from smiling for so long.
“Are you still attending the Allendale soiree tonight?” Conchita asked. “I thought perhaps the mustard-colored silk would be appropriate.”
“I assume I am. Melbourne was to escort me. If he hasn’t sent over a note, I suppose I shall be forced to send one to him.”
When they stopped on the front drive of the borrowed house, however, she thought that perhaps a note wouldn’t be necessary. A curricle stood there, and though she’d never seen Melbourne in one, she supposed that he owned several.
“I trust your morning was successful, Your Highness?” Grimm the butler intoned as he pulled open the front door.
“Indeed it was. Who is calling?”
“Charles Stenway, the Duke of Harek, Your Highness. He awaits your pleasure in the morning room.”
“Harek? I’ve never heard of him.” She sighed as she pulled off her gloves. “Very well. Conchita?”
The two of them walked into the morning room. Halfway inside, she stopped. A well-built man of medium height stood by the fireplace, his blond hair edged with copper in the fire’s glow. He faced her, then sketched a deep, reverential bow. “Your Highness,” he said in a low, cultured voice.
Belatedly she inclined her head. “Your Grace. I’m pleased to meet you, but I have to admit, I’m somewhat at a loss as to the reason for your presence. You’re aware that the rey my father is on his way to Scotland?”
“Yes, your butler informed me. Might we sit?” He gestured at the couch.
“Certainly.” Rather than the couch, though, which would mean a more intimate conversation, she sank into one of the overstuffed chairs that bordered the fireplace. Conchita stood behind her. “What may I do for you, then?”
“The Prince Regent sent for me this morning, and requested that I serve as the British liaison to Costa Habichuela. I gratefully accepted the honor, of course. And so I came directly here to—”
“What happened to Melbourne?” she interrupted.
“His Highness said that his duties demanded his attention elsewhere.” He flipped his fingers in a dismissive gesture. “Truth be told, Melbourne is always engaged in some enterprise or other. He would have made a fine merchant.”
She swiftly reassessed her opinion of Harek. He seemed both ambitious and eager to please, and apparently was either very traditional or very jealous of Melbourne. “You don’t approve of a nobleman engaging in business?”
“It’s unseemly. Business is what solicitors and accountants and bankers are for.” He gave her a warm smile. “Let us not talk of such things. I believe you are attending the Allendale ball tonight? It would be my pleasure to offer you escort.”
Josefina smiled back at him. “If I might ask, are you married, Your Grace?”
“I am lamentably single,” he returned. “I have spent the last few years abroad in Canada, and only recently returned.”
“And what did you do in Canada, Your Grace, since you do not personally engage in business?”
“I hunted. Remarkable place, Canada. Deer, moose, bears, mountain lions, geese, wolves, beavers—an amazing variety of wildlife.”
“And how thoughtful of them all to be located in one place for your pleasure.”
“Ah, you jest.” He chuckled.
“And now you’ve returned home.”
His green eyes twinkled as they met hers. “And now I’ve returned home. A hopefully fortuitous event for both of us.”
Well, he’d made his meaning clear enough. “We shall see.” Gesturing at Conchita, she rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some correspondence. May I expect you at eight o’clock tonight?”
He stood when she did. “I will be here. If you require anything before then, please send me word. I’ve given my address to your butler, and I am at your disposal.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. I shall see you tonight.”
Harek took a step forward. “With your permission,” he said, and reached for her fingers. Silently he bowed over her hand, brushing his lips against her knuckles. “Until tonight, Your Highness,” he said, bowing again.
“Good afternoon,” she returned, watching as Conchita showed him out.
As the maid returned, Josefina made her way to the writing desk. “That was interesting,” she said, pulling out a sheet of paper. “I’ll have to let Father know that we have a new liaison.”
“One who already wants to marry you, I think,” Conchita added.
“At least he’s polite. I can’t see myself moved to slap him.”
But could she see herself moved to kiss him? That, she supposed, was beside the point. Damn Melbourne anyway, the coward. She’d obviously been too much for him, and he’d fled. She only hoped he would attend the ball tonight, so she could show him how easily he’d been replaced.
Chapter 7
“Willits, haven’t we had this conversation already?” Sebastian asked over the noise of the country dance being played in the Allendale ballroom.
“I remain unconvinced that reducing a labor force is good for the economy,” the viscount returned.
“Then vote against the measure. Personally, I believe that encouraging families to send their children to school rather than having them make bricks will better benefit England into the future. An ignorant population requires more monetary assistance from its government, rather than less.”
“But—”
“No,” Sebastian cut him off. “That is my argument. Agree with it, or don’t. I’m
not going to discuss it further.” He inclined his head and turned away. “Good evening.”
“That was a bit harsh,” Zachary said, approaching from the doorway, his wife on his arm. “You’ll make him weep.”
“I’ve discovered there’s only so much idiocy I can tolerate,” the duke returned, drawing a breath and trying to cool his temper. Willits might have deserved a set-down, but the man could provide helpful votes on occasion.
“This should make you smile, then,” Zach commented, already grinning. “You tell him, Caro. I don’t want to get blamed for it.”
Caroline delicately cleared her throat. “My mother has just written me. She and my father are coming to London. I’m not sure who else will be joining them.”
Oh, good God. “That’s good news,” he said. “I know you’ve missed them.”
“Look,” Zachary chortled. “Now Seb’s going to cry.”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit cruel, brother, to vaunt your wife’s family as a device of torture?”
“I…I meant no such thing. You know I like them.” He faced his wife. “You know I do, Caroline.”
She smiled. “He’s bamming you, Zachary.”
“That’s nice, isn’t it? I’m going to get a drink.” With a half-amused glare, Zachary stomped off.
“I do love him, you know,” Caroline said quietly, a look of happiness on her face as she gazed after her husband. “So much. He rarely takes people at their face value. He always sees more. Very painterlike of him, really.”
“Which is why so many people like him.” Leaning down, Sebastian kissed Caroline on the cheek. “I shall apologize every day if you like, for trying to discourage your union. You are very good for him.”
“And he is very good for me.” Her smile deepened. “Instead of a string of apologies, I will ask for the next dance.”
“It’s yours.” He held out his hand, and she clasped it.
“Oh, I say,” Zachary grumbled, a trio of glasses in his hands, as they joined the line forming for the country dance.
The music began, and the two rows of dancers bowed to one another. As soon as Sebastian stepped onto the floor it seemed as though every unmarried female present grabbed a father or a brother or a slow-moving male bystander to join in, but he was accustomed to that. And this time it was, in a sense, a relief. Whatever his family might reckon, no one else seemed to think that he’d formed an attachment to any one female in particular. Which was good, because he hadn’t.
He circled Caroline, then the chit standing to her right, sidestepped, and touched hands with the next female over. Lightning coursed from his fingertips to his toes at the contact. Christ.
“Oh, good evening, Melbourne,” Princess Josefina said, and moved back down the line again.
It took all of his control to keep from rubbing his fingertips. They felt burned. What the devil was she doing there? The Costa Habichuela contingent had journeyed to Scotland in search of further loans—or so he’d thought.
As he turned, he slid a glance down the line. Josefina stepped forward around the man opposite her and moved back to the line again. The Duke of Harek.
For the next ten minutes he kept the easy, mildly amused expression on his face. Inside, however, he didn’t feel nearly as calm. It was one thing to see her when he hadn’t expected to, when he’d thought he would have another fortnight to resolve his…confusion before he saw her again. It was something else entirely to stumble across her in the company of another man.
They shifted, circling one another again. “I thought you too busy to attend a party,” she said.
“It was the escorting duties that took too much of my time,” he returned. “Not the soirees.”
“Ah. I thought perhaps it was fear of me.”
Before he could answer that, the dance swept her away again. Damnation. How could her mere presence set his world spinning? He practically governed England, and he couldn’t speak to her without…without wanting more of her. Wanting her. Badly.
The music ended. He shook himself and joined in the applause, then escorted Caroline back to Zachary.
“Seb?” Zachary muttered, handing over a glass of port.
“I’m fine,” he grumbled, taking a deep swallow.
“I meant that she’s—”
“May I take one of your precious moments?” her melodious voice came from behind him.
Steeling himself, he turned around. “Of course, Your Highness,” he said crisply. “Harek.”
“Melbourne,” Harek replied. “I wanted to come over and thank you. When you resigned from your liaison post, Prinny summoned me to take it over. I have never been more pleased to serve my country.” He smiled at Josefina.
“Yes,” she took up. “His Grace is a delightful gentleman. He’s escorting me to the theater tomorrow night. I’ve always longed to see a London theatrical.”
“Perhaps we can convince players to visit Costa Habichuela,” Harek commented.
“‘We’?” Sebastian repeated. “Are you emigrating, then, Harek?”
The duke’s smile deepened. “One never knows.”
Sebastian wanted to hit the duke, wanted to wipe the confident, arrogant grin from his pleasant face. He curled his fingers into a fist.
Abruptly Zachary moved between them. “A word with you, Melbourne?” he said, gesturing toward the doorway and then glancing at Harek and the princess. “Excuse us for a moment. It’s a family matter.”
“Of course,” Josefina said, her gaze still on Sebastian.
When Zachary nudged his shoulder he started, then turned and left the room. He kept walking, hearing Zach and Caroline on his heels, until he reached the Allendales’ library. Once the three of them were inside, his brother closed the door.
“Apologies,” Zachary said slowly, “but I wanted to avoid a scene.”
Sebastian rounded on him. “‘A scene’? You didn’t want me to cause a scene? How dare you take it on yourself to—”
“I nearly caused a scene,” his brother said forcefully. “That ape. As if Harek is anything more than a poor replacement for you, because you were being noble.”
He wasn’t so sure there was anything noble about it. “Oh.”
“Shall we leave? I’ll have the coach brought around.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I won’t be chased away from a soiree because of a nitwit and a chit, royal or not.”
“But I thought you were trying to distance yourself from her. That’s why you resigned the position.”
“I don’t need you to protect me, Zachary. I am quite aware of who I am and what I am and what is at stake every time I open my mouth or put pen to paper. That is my responsibility and my duty and my position. Not yours.”
“Fine. That’s my fault, I suppose, for thinking you might have grown a new heart. Good evening, Melbourne.” With that he stalked out of the room. Caroline offered a more sympathetic glance and then followed her husband.
As the door closed, Sebastian walked to one of the long windows. The moment he returned to the ballroom Willits would be there, trying to compliment his way back into the fold. A dozen other peers he’d greeted and avoided were still expecting a moment of conversation with him, as well. And since he’d danced with Caroline, all of the single chits would think they had a chance with him tonight.
Scowling, he wandered to the back of the room where Allendale kept the majority of his ill-read library. A moment later one of the books caught his eye, and he shifted the step stool over so he could climb up and reach it high on its unread perch. A History of the Southern Americas. From the publication date it was six years old, but he paged through it, anyway.
Only a small portion of the text had been devoted to the Mosquito Coast, but he sat by the fire to read the section, anyway. The Spanish had taken most of Central and South America and all the riches therein, but they had conspicuously avoided the Mosquito Coast. The reason for this, according to the author, one John Rice-Able, was because the area had been deemed worthles
s, a miasma of flooded, malaria-ridden deltas, impenetrable jungles, and oppressive year-round heat and humidity.
The description couldn’t have been farther from the one in Embry’s prospectus. Here he found no mention of gentle sea breezes or easily cleared land, or of a thriving town filled with promise. Admittedly, this was two pages of generalizations versus the four hundred and twenty detailed ones of the prospectus, but it was enough to raise some questions.
Well, he knew of one way to get further information: Find Mr. John Rice-Able, who hopefully resided somewhere reachable. Slowly he closed the book and returned it to its place. Something about Costa Habichuela and its royalty had felt too good to be true, however nebulous his suspicions. This wasn’t much, but enough pieces formed a complete puzzle.
As he stepped down from the stool, the library door opened again. “I thought to find you hiding here,” Josefina’s voice came from behind him.
He faced her. “Did you tire of your new liaison? Surely he can’t have regaled you with all of his hunting stories already. Or did he run from you in terror?”
“Ha! The Duke of Harek is a very agreeable man. I may marry him.”
It took all of his willpower to keep from surging forward and grabbing her. “I hadn’t realized your standards were so low,” he returned, just managing to keep his voice even. “He does share your affinity for nonsense, I suppose.”
She stalked forward, her mustard-colored gown swishing with each step. “What the devil is that supposed to mean?”
He was not about to mention any of his nonsensical thoughts aloud. “Your absurd air of superiority that you over-reach because you have no real concept of how to behave like royalty,” he said instead.
“I should have you hanged for that,” she snapped, her fine cheeks darkening.
Apparently he’d made a hit. “Come and try,” he taunted.
To his surprise, she kicked off her slippers. “Before I became a princess,” she said, fury etched on her pretty face, “I was a soldier’s daughter.” She stalked over to the fireplace and removed a rapier from its display. “Defend yourself, Melbourne.”
Sins of a Duke Page 8
