God, she aroused him, and though his logical, practical mind had determined to put a stop to their encounter before any lasting and provable damage could be done, his body—his cock—wanted badly to continue.
Initially he had meant to continue, to go as far as was necessary to discover what it was about her and about Costa Habichuela that troubled him so. But immediately—too immediately, as far as his body was concerned—she had struck a note that rang false.
Why would San Saturus—by all of her and her father’s accounts a small, picturesque town made up mostly of natives and English ex-patriots—boast a white-stoned behemoth of a palace consisting of hundreds of rooms? The Mosquito King didn’t reside there, or he wouldn’t have given it away. And if the Spanish knew of a manor of that size overlooking a well-protected ocean harbor, they would have sent troops after it.
But perhaps she’d exaggerated in order to impress him. Perhaps the huge palace was a small villa with tens of rooms. Perhaps the ocean breeze was as pleasant and beckoning as she and the prospectus claimed. And perhaps he was an idiot looking for reasons to distrust a woman toward whom he otherwise felt a great deal of interest and attraction.
“Damnation,” he muttered, and pulled open the curtain. As he did so, a gleam on the carpeted floor caught his eye. Josefina’s pearl necklace lay there in a forgotten heap. Sebastian picked it up, placed it in his pocket, and went to find a footman and some glasses of port.
When he returned to his box, Josefina was seated beside the still-snoring Harek. Even with her back turned he could feel her hostility. That could be useful, as well. She would have to decide whether her anger outweighed whatever it was she needed from him. He handed one of the glasses to Shay and sat.
“What took you so long?” his brother whispered. “I was ready to begin poking Harek just so I could be certain he wasn’t dead and the lot of you hadn’t completely deserted me.”
“I had them fetch me a better bottle,” Sebastian lied. “I refuse to drink the watered-down tripe they generally offer. But here, hold this a moment.” He handed over his own glass before he reached into his pocket. As he produced the pearl necklace, his brother’s eyes widened.
“What—”
“Shh.” Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against Josefina’s left ear. “I believe this is yours,” he murmured, sliding his hand along the arm of her chair to place the necklace in her palm. “Put it in your reticule. It won’t do for anyone to see you dressing in public.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said audibly, her voice rich and easy as always. If not for the shaking of her fingers he would have thought her perfectly composed.
As he sat back and recaptured his drink, Shay continued to eye him. “She dropped it,” he said matter-of-factly. “I saw it on the floor just outside.”
“Mm-hm.”
“Do you think I ran out and bought it just now? Watch the bloody play.”
“I am.”
During intermission Josefina smiled and chatted with their rapt fellow theater guests as though he hadn’t rendered her moaning and half naked earlier, but he noticed that she had either Harek’s arm or Shay’s, and kept at least one of them between herself and him.
He wondered whether she was more angry that he hadn’t completed the seduction, or that he’d caught her in what was most probably a lie. Whatever the answer was to that question, he meant to find out.
In the morning he stifled a yawn as he took his seat in the House of Lords. Four hours of Denmarkian tragedy followed by another six of sleeplessness had soured his mood beyond what even he could call reasonable. As soon as the morning’s arguments began over Prinny’s newest round of debts, he leaned forward to tap the shoulder of the gentleman seated below him.
The fellow turned around. “Melbourne.”
“Lord Beltram. I was wondering if you’d received my inquiry.”
“I did. In fact,” and he patted his left breast pocket, then pulled a folded piece of paper from it, “I found your fellow. He resides in Eton. Teaches there, actually.”
Sebastian took the paper from the minister. “My thanks,” he said, opening it to read the address. “You’ve saved me a great deal of effort.”
“Then perhaps you won’t mind introducing me to those South American royals when they all return to London. At ninety pounds a bond, I’m pulling out of the Italian loans and buying stock in Costa Habichuela. How much have you purchased? Half the country, I’ll wager, since you’ve got the rey practically in your pocket.”
“Certainly I’ll introduce you, William,” he said carefully. If his suspicions were unfounded, he was not going to be the one to cause all of the infant country’s much-needed investors to flee. England could use the alliance. “Though you know Harek’s taken over the liaison position. I have too many of my own candles burning as it is.”
“No doubt,” Beltram said, chuckling. He looked past Sebastian. “Lord Deverill.”
A hand clapped Sebastian on the shoulder. “Beltram, Melbourne,” the marquis said with a short smile.
“Valentine,” Sebastian returned. “This is a bit early in the day for you, isn’t it?”
His brother-in-law sank into his seat. “You have no idea. Rose has decided she must have teeth, and Eleanor’s decided that baths in lavender water will soothe the infant, so I’ve decided that at the moment Corbett House is the loudest, smelliest location in Britain.”
Sebastian laughed. “You were warned that domesticity has its perils.”
“Yes, I know. For the most part I actually adore it. To think that Nell and I made that small, squawking, giggling bundle—it’s…humbling.”
For a moment Sebastian gazed at his closest friend. “I know what you mean,” he finally said, waiting for the pang in his chest he always felt when he thought of what he’d planned with Charlotte, and what they hadn’t had time to do. The pain was still there, but it felt older, like a regret rather than a fresh wound.
“Speaking of idiots,” Valentine said, breaking into his reverie, “apparently Harek’s taking the princess to Tattersall’s today.”
“Were we speaking of idiots?”
“Maybe that was just me. I’m trying to figure out why a king looking for investors and contacts leaves his business liaison with his daughter while he rides off to Scotland.”
“Because the best way to legitimize a new regime is to marry it with an old, established one.”
Valentine looked across the crowded chamber. “You knew that from the beginning, didn’t you? That you were being maneuvered toward the altar?”
“It wasn’t exactly subtle.”
“Then I understand why you resigned your post with them. What baffles me, though, is why you’re still waltzing with the chit and taking her to the theater.”
The question sounded so simple; it was simple. Something about the circumstances of Costa Habichuela troubled him, and he wanted his questions answered. To do that, however, he might just as easily have pursued a friendship with the rey and thereby spared himself any entanglements with the daughter. “Whatever my personal reservations,” he said in a low voice, “I have no reason to discourage investors. If I cut ties without explanation, that would likely result.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” the marquis returned. “After Parliament I’m sending my accountant out to purchase a hundred bonds. With a family to think of now, I’m looking for a solid, long-term investment.”
Bloody hell. “Hold off on that, will you?” he muttered.
“Aha! I knew it. What the devil’s going on?”
Sebastian scowled at his hands. “Maybe nothing. I don’t know. It’s just that I’ve conducted enough business to know that very few things have no downside to them. I’m still trying to determine what the underbelly of Costa Habichuela looks like.”
“Fair enough.”
It sounded that way, thankfully, but they both knew that he hadn’t explained why he continued to focus his attention on Princess Josefina, and why eve
n when he suspected that all was not precisely as she claimed, the most pressing matter seemed to be finding another opportunity to see her.
Harek had found a bench several yards from the main auction pen at Tattersalls, and as Josefina sat and greeted and chatted with everyone from viscounts to grooms, she felt as though she was holding court. The duke stood at her elbow, acting every inch the host, while Lieutenant May served as a visible, black-garbed bodyguard.
“I bought two bonds yesterday,” a well-dressed young man was saying as he all but knelt at her feet. “Do you have plans to sell plots of land? I’ve read the prospectus, and I have to say that I’d rather take my chances owning land in Costa Habichuela than in relying on the charity of my father and older brother.”
“He is the youngest son to the Marquis of Bronshire,” Harek whispered, leaning over her shoulder. “Five older siblings.”
“That isn’t something the rey had planned for this visit,” she returned with a smile, “but I will let him know that we have at least one interested party.”
“And me, Your Highness!” someone further back in the crowd yelled.
“Aye!”
“Aye! I’d trade shoveling horse shit for sea breezes and good land any day!”
Everyone laughed. Goodness. She herself found London enchanting. It had never really occurred to her that anyone would be willing—much less eager—to trade a familiar life for an unknown one in an untamed, unseen land.
“Perhaps once we’ve had time to utilize the bank’s generous loan, we might be able to formalize some sort of immigration agreement with England.”
“Why wait?” someone else called. “I’d go in a fast tick!”
She laughed the comment off again. “I shall tell the rey,” she repeated. As she spied a trio of ladies approaching, two of them familiar, she stood. “Lady Caroline, Lady Sarala,” she said, inclining her head. “And this must be your sister, Lady Deverill.”
The brunette marchioness curtsied, a shallow but respectful gesture that reminded Josefina of the woman’s eldest brother. “I’m pleased to finally meet you, Your Highness,” she said with a smile. “I feel as if I’m the last person in London to do so.”
“Harek informs me that he’s never seen the auctions this well attended before.”
“Perhaps Your Highness would care to refresh yourself by joining us for luncheon?” Lady Deverill returned.
Thank heavens. “That would be acceptable,” she said, trying not to sound too eager to escape. “Your Grace, I give you leave to see to that pair of bays you wanted to purchase.”
Harek bowed. “My barouche is at your disposal, ladies.”
“Thank you,” the marchioness said with a smile that didn’t meet her eyes, “but we have our own transportation. Your Highness, this way.”
As they walked through the boisterous crowd, Conchita and Lieutenant May fell in behind them. In the company of the other three ladies, the addition of a maid and a guard seemed a bit gauche, and Josefina signaled Conchita to approach her.
“You and the lieutenant should return to Branbury House,” she said.
“But Your High—”
“I’ll be fine.” She raised her voice. “Certainly one of these gracious ladies will be kind enough to return me home after our luncheon.”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
Conchita bobbed, her expression still dubious. “Very well. Lieutenant?”
With her servants gone, Josefina concentrated her attention on her companions. “Did Melbourne ask you to come by?” she asked, unable to keep her voice from sticking on his name. She hated the blasted man, and she hated the way she’d dreamed all night of his hands and his mouth caressing her. He thought he was so clever, to excite her and then accuse her of lying when she couldn’t even remember what she’d said.
“Heavens no,” Lady Deverill returned, stopping beside a large barouche with the yellow Deverill crest painted on the door panel. “Caro and Sarala have been talking about you, and I wanted to meet you.”
“I’m pleased for that,” Josefina returned, allowing the groomsman to hand her into the carriage, “because though my country can use the publicity of my presence, I have to admit that having so many people hanging on my every word is a bit…disconcerting.”
“They all adore you,” Lady Sarala commented with a warm smile, the trace of a foreign accent in her words.
“If I may ask, my lady, you’re not from here, are you? London, I mean.”
“I grew up in India,” Lord Charlemagne’s wife said. “And I must say, you’ve done a much better job at facing the ton of London than I did.”
“My country’s good will depends on it.”
Lady Sarala nodded again. “Shay tells me that you had a sea of admirers at the theater last evening.”
And only one with his mouth on her breasts. Josefina shook herself. These ladies were Griffins either by birth or by marriage, and last night Sebastian Griffin had called her a liar. It would be foolish to assume she’d been asked to luncheon purely out of friendship. “Everyone has been very gracious,” she commented. “Our visit here has been fortuitous. And my father is so hopeful now for the future of Costa Habichuela.”
“Do you mean to reside in Costa Habichuela yourself?” Lady Caroline sat beside her, while the other two ladies took the back-facing seat opposite.
“It is my home. Of course I mean to live there.”
“Of course,” Lady Deverill agreed hurriedly. “I think Caro only wondered if the rey might have you stay on in London to continue your efforts to raise funds and support for your country.”
“My father spent so much time away from my mother and me that he has vowed we should never be separated again. He wanted me to travel to Scotland with him, but I insisted that I would be more useful here.”
“Does he mean to secure additional loans there?”
“That is his intention, yes.” She’d initially been against the attempt, but now she had to agree with his assessment that no time could be better for stirring up interest than the days immediately following a monarch’s ceremonial arrival in a friendly country.
“I have to say,” Lady Sarala added, “Shay has been fascinated by the prospectus you gave Melbourne. I can scarcely get him to put it aside each evening.”
“I’m gratified that he finds it interesting. Costa Habichuela is a remarkable place.”
“From what I heard a few minutes ago, a great many Britons are anxious to experience it firsthand.” Lady Deverill gazed at her with eyes the same color as her brother’s, though the marchioness’s were much warmer and more friendly than those of Melbourne. “Have you considered opening Costa Habichuela to immigration?”
“I believe the rey wants to assess the economic impact of additional citizens and farmed land before he makes a decision.”
“A very sound approach,” Lady Sarala agreed. “Economics is a bit of a hobby of mine.”
Wonderful. All she needed today were more questions she didn’t feel prepared to answer.
“I have to ask,” Lady Deverill put in with the timing of a clock, “why in the world did you slap Melbourne? I don’t think anyone’s ever had the courage to do that before.”
“He sent a coach for me when he’d promised to appear and escort me himself. It might have tarnished everyone’s first impression of me, and thereby of my country.”
“So it was only because of the possible harm to your country?”
Josefina grimaced. The truth didn’t seem as though it could cause any damage. “Well, I think any woman would be hurt upon realizing that a very handsome man who’d offered an escort hadn’t bothered to appear. And I have to say, he continues to be quite arrogant and speak very rudely to me. I don’t understand why, when he seems to be unfailingly polite to everyone else who crosses his path.”
Eleanor gazed at their new companion for a moment. She’d been about to say that the three of them had also experienced Sebastian’s foul temper, but stopped herself. “Mel
bourne is rather famous for being inscrutable,” she said instead.
In fact, her oldest brother was only less than polite to a very small and select group of people—the ones who engaged his emotions. If he was rude to Princess Josefina, and continued to be so, then it meant something.
“‘Inscrutable’?” The princess smiled, though the expression seemed a bit forced. “Since you’re his family, I won’t embellish the description.”
“You are a true diplomat, Your Highness,” Caro observed, and they all laughed.
Something large moved up beside the barouche. Eleanor glanced sideways. A large, gleaming black coach loomed there, a scarlet griffin on the door. Blast it all.
She raised her eyes to the massive coach’s window. With the curtains pulled aside, Sebastian was easy to make out. He looked straight back at her, his usually inscrutable expression highly annoyed. Inwardly she cringed.
Yes, she’d decided to become acquainted with Princess Josefina Embry. And yes, that did most likely qualify as meddling. After the way he’d attempted to manipulate the lives of herself and her brothers, Sebastian deserved to be meddled with. What she absolutely hadn’t counted on, however, was being found out so soon.
“Oh, dear,” Caroline whispered. “He does not look happy.”
Though she held her breath herself, Eleanor offered a reassuring smile. “He can be annoyed as he pleases. The Duke of Melbourne is not going to force us off the street.” Not with witnesses about, anyway. She waved her fingers at her eldest brother.
“Nell, don’t make him any angrier,” Sarala cautioned in a hushed voice.
After another moment driving parallel with them, Sebastian rapped on the roof of the coach. Immediately the vehicle turned away down the next cross street. Eleanor let out her breath. Thank goodness.
“I apologize if my being here has caused you some difficulty,” Her Highness contributed abruptly. “I know Melbourne is not fond of me.”
“Nonsense. He’s not fond of anyone. Don’t take it to heart.”
The princess smiled. “Thank you, Lady Deverill.”
“Call me Eleanor.”
Sins of a Duke Page 11
