“The…” She paused, clearing her throat and trying to gather her thoughts. “I admit,” she finally ventured, “that now you surprise me.”
He inclined his head. “You are a princess, and I am a duke. We are above most of the nonsense that concerns other people.”
“Thank you, Lord Harek.”
“Please call me Charles.”
“Charles, then.”
Lieutenant May approached, bowing with his hand across his breast. “Your Highness, His Majesty requests that you join him and the queen.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
So that was the life she should expect. Before she’d arrived in London, when she and her father had studied the registry looking for unmarried aristocrats with whom they might form an alliance, she’d been looking at wealth, and the age and elevation of the title. And then she’d set eyes on Sebastian Griffin, and even with her requirements satisfied, her expectations had heightened.
As she’d already realized, Harek was a much better match for her than Melbourne. Charles didn’t ask questions, and he kept quiet about what he knew.
Harek was the match she needed to make. But the part of her that was simply Josefina Embry, without the tangles and webs and complications, didn’t want a husband who approved of her having affairs, who would just stand by and let anything happen because it either didn’t affect him, or it happened to be to his benefit.
And yet a choice in such matters belonged to someone who hadn’t trodden the path she’d taken. Besides, her father was taking care of the problem the Duke of Melbourne posed. A shiver ran through her again.
Was she that person? Someone like Harek who allowed the wrong things to happen? She had been, before. She’d helped them along. It shouldn’t have been a difficult question now—if she did nothing, she remained wealthy and safe and free. If she acted to help Melbourne, she and her parents would probably hang.
Unless there was a third alternative. She had approximately ten hours to come up with one. And a luncheon with Sebastian’s sisters and his delightfully imaginative daughter to further complicate matters.
For the first time she wondered if she could do this. But the consequences if she failed were too horrific to contemplate. And so were the ones if she succeeded.
“Do you actually know any pirates?”
Josefina smiled as Sebastian’s daughter buttered a thick slice of bread. “Well, if they admitted to piracy they could be arrested, but I had my suspicions. There was one fellow who wore an eyepatch and always had a green parrot on his shoulder. I’m fairly certain he was a pirate.”
The little girl bounced in her seat, her eyes widening. “What was his name? I have several lists I’ve made of known pirates.”
“He called himself Dread Ned.”
“Oh,” Lady Penelope breathed. “A new one. Did he have all his arms and legs?”
“Peep,” Eleanor Lady Deverill said, grinning behind her napkin, “you must let Princess Josefina eat. You’ll starve her to death.”
“But I have to add Dread Ned to my list.”
“I don’t mind,” Josefina put in. “Truthfully, it’s fun to discuss something other than Costa Habichuela.”
The girl shifted sideways in her chair at the outdoor café where they sat, then leaned against Josefina’s right arm. “I’m glad we could have luncheon today,” she said happily, devouring her bread. “I like you very much, Princess Josefina.”
Heavens. Such a small gesture, leaning on her arm, but it said so much. It spoke of trust, of reliance—not traits with which she had much experience. Today, it warmed her insides as few other things ever had. “I like you very much, too, Lady Penelope. Call me Josefina.”
“Josefina. And you may call me Peep. Could you describe Dread Ned in detail, so I may do a sketch of him?”
“Of course, Peep. Anything to help your research.”
From the pleased, amused expressions of Peep’s aunts, she’d said the right thing. Peep had done her share of being charming as well. The girl was delightful, and from her easy confidence was clearly her father’s darling.
For a moment she allowed herself to think that she and young Peep could easily be fast friends—until she considered tonight. If anything happened to Sebastian it would be her fault, and then Peep would hate her. And she would hate herself. Five hours. She had five hours remaining to think of something that could protect both the Duke of Melbourne and herself—and Peep—from harm.
Valentine Corbett met the coach as Eleanor stepped back onto her drive. “Hello, my love,” he drawled, kissing her in the way that still made her toes curl.
“Not in front of the servants,” she muttered, pushing at his shoulder.
“Anywhere we bloody well please,” he rumbled back, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her up the steps and into the house.
Eleanor yelped. “Valentine!”
“How was your luncheon with Her Highness?” He sat on the couch in the morning room, settling her comfortably across his lap.
“Peep adores her. She’s already making plans to steal a ship and sail to Costa Habichuela for a visit. They would have spent the day sketching pirates if we’d had enough time.”
“And what about the chit herself?”
Eleanor ran a finger along his chin. “Why so curious, Deverill?”
He took her finger into his mouth, gazing at her as he sucked.
Her heart accelerated. “I know how naughty you are, but I won’t let you distract me.”
“From what, my heart?”
“Valen—”
The morning room door opened as her husband kissed her again, slow and soft. “Go away, Hobbes,” Valentine ordered, otherwise ignoring the intrusion.
“Get your hands off my sister, you blackguard,” Shay’s mild voice came.
“My apologies,” Valentine countered, emerald eyes twinkling as he gazed at Eleanor. “Go away, Charlemagne.” He kissed her again.
“Have either of you seen Sebastian?”
Valentine straightened. Her heart pounding now for another reason entirely, Eleanor stood. “What do you mean, have we seen him?” she snapped. “That’s a rather alarming question.”
“Melbourne can take care of himself,” Valentine commented, stretching out his long legs. “I think the question is, what’s happened to make you need to find him so urgently, Shay?”
It continued to amaze Eleanor the way her husband could find the exact heart of a matter. “Yes, Shay, why do you want to find him so badly?”
Her brother’s face folded into a frown. “I can’t say.”
“You can’t, or you won’t?” she pressed.
“I’ll assume all of this means you haven’t seen him.” Shay turned for the door. “As you were, then.”
“Shay, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Valentine, don’t let him leave.”
With a sigh her husband pushed to his feet. “Save both of us from a messy bout of fisticuffs and unbutton, Charlemagne,” he muttered, walking toward the doorway.
“Damnation. Look. I know we all feel justified in meddling in Melbourne’s…dealings with the princess, but there are some things we—he—have uncovered that tell me this is more serious than we thought.”
“More serious?” Eleanor repeated, closing on her brother and grabbing his arm. “You mean between them?”
“No. I mean…” He looked from one of them to the other, swearing under his breath. “I promised him.”
“So you and Melbourne know something, and as usual he makes a sweeping pronouncement that no one else is permitted to learn anything.”
“Nell, don’t make more of this than—”
“We had luncheon today with Princess Josefina, you know,” she interrupted. “Sarala, Caro, and I. And I brought Peep along, because she’s been begging to see the princess again. And I’ve invited her family to our next Griffin dinner.”
“Don’t,” he said abruptly.
“Why not
?”
He blew out his breath. “Fine. I took a look at the Costa Habichuela prospectus,” he grumbled, sitting beside the fireplace. “It seemed familiar, so I did some comparisons. It’s stolen from several other works, including an old survey done of Jamaica. Seb confronted the princess about it, and apparently didn’t like the answers he got.”
“‘Apparently’?” Valentine repeated.
“He did some more research and found an explorer who’s teaching at Eton. We met with him the day before yesterday. He confirmed that there is nowhere on the Mosquito Coast that resembles a paradise, that he’s never heard of Costa Habichuela, and that the city of San Saturus is an old prospector’s camp where the last three occupants apparently died from swamp gas poisoning and had their bones picked clean by ants.”
“No.” Eleanor blanched. “He has to be mistaken. That would mean—”
“It would mean that Melbourne’s princess has been telling some untruths,” her husband took up. “How convinced is Sebastian that something nefarious is going on?”
“Fairly. I have some new information for him, but he’s not in Parliament, and he’s not at home. Merlin’s gone, as well.” Shay ground his fist into his thigh. “I had the feeling—a very strong feeling, actually—that Seb liked Princess Josefina.”
“We all did. That’s why we’ve been meddling.” Blast. How often had all of them heard Melbourne’s speech about proceeding with caution, about not making a decisive move without having all of the facts to hand? And Peep had already practically added Josefina to the family. Damnation. “If he had told us what his suspicions were instead of behaving in his usual high-handed manner, I…well, I certainly wouldn’t have invited her anywhere, blast it all.”
“Beg off,” Shay said. “We have four days. Who’s hosting our dinner this week?”
“Zach and Caro. All the Witfelds will be there, as well.”
Valentine snorted. “An hour with Mrs. Witfeld might drive the entire royal family back to South America.”
“If only we could rely on that happening.” Biting her lip, Eleanor faced her brother again. “We can’t beg off without arousing suspicion. What we need to do is find out what Melbourne’s plans are.”
“Hence my coming here to find him. And since you know this business now, we need to inform Zach, too.”
“I’ll do that,” she said. “You and Valentine keep looking for Sebastian.”
Her husband kissed her softly on the mouth. “Time to be heroes,” he drawled, and motioned Shay toward the door.
As soon as the men were gone, Eleanor sent word for the coach to be readied again. This was awful. She’d liked Josefina Embry. They all had. Including Sebastian. She wanted to ride to that woman’s house and demand to know exactly what was going on.
If Shay was right, and she had no reason to doubt him, this was more than just a betrayal of friendship. The Costa Habichuela contingent, and Josefina in particular, had put the Griffin reputation at risk. And she had the continuing suspicion that Sebastian had more at risk than his good name.
They all needed some answers. And the sooner, the better.
“Where the devil have you been?”
Sebastian looked away from his dressing mirror as Shay, Valentine at his heels, strode into the bedchamber. “I had some business.”
“Business that’s left Merlin looking as though you’ve galloped him from here to the Channel and back?”
“That’s a damn good guess.” He stood, and Bailey helped him on with his dark gray coat. “Thank you, Bailey. I can manage from here.”
“Very good, Your Grace.” With a bow the valet left the room, closing the door behind him.
“What do you mean, it’s a good guess?” Shay demanded, his expression angry and concerned.
“I went to Dover. I thought—”
“Dover? Without telling anyone?”
“I haven’t required a wet nurse in some time, Shay. Now are you going to let me finish?”
His brother frowned. “Apologies. Continue.”
“Admiral Mattingly is in Dover. I thought he might be able to point me to someone who’d sailed along the Mosquito Coast.” Sebastian eyed his brother long enough to remind him whose concern this really was. “Now you may ask your next question.”
“Wasn’t what John Rice-Able told us enough?”
“Not for me. That made it one opinion against another, one book against another.”
“Did you find someone?” Valentine asked, arms crossed as he leaned against a bed post.
“I did.” Sebastian lifted Carroway’s statement from the dressing table. “A promising young lieutenant named Bradshaw Carroway. Apparently you once threatened to gut him, Charlemagne, for dancing with Nell.”
“My thanks for that, Shay,” Nell’s husband commented.
“Let’s take a look,” Shay returned ignoring the commentary as he held out his hand. Sebastian gave him the paper.
“I assume you’ve broken my confidence and told Valentine all about the Costa Habichuela problem?” Sebastian tucked his watch into his pocket and headed for the door. “Anyone else?”
“By now the whole family knows. Except for Peep and the Witfelds, of course.”
“Remind me not to bring you into my confidence any longer,” Sebastian returned curtly, pulling open the door.
“Melbourne, wait a moment.”
“I have an appointment this evening. Give me back the statement. I may need it.” What he wanted to do was burn the thing, but that would mean giving up and letting the farce play out as it would. As a member of the House of Lords he couldn’t do that, though, even if his status as a Griffin would have allowed such a thing.
“If you’ve been gone all day, you probably haven’t heard the latest,” Shay said to his back.
Sebastian paused, stifling the retort he’d been about to make concerning the spread of gossip. Shay didn’t pass on idle rumors, however angry he wished to be with his brother for telling the rest of the family about his conundrum. “What is it, then?”
“This morning in Piccadilly the Embrys attended the opening of the Costa Habichuela land office. They’re selling ten-to hundred-acre lots of land at three shillings an acre. Stories put the queue at a quarter mile long.”
“They’re looking for settlers to that godforsaken place?” Sebastian couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice.
“They’re finding them. By the hundreds. Apparently the rey opened another land office while he was in Edinburgh.” His brother cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Seb.”
Turning around, Sebastian pinned him with a glare. “What the devil are you sorry for, Shay? I’d certainly rather know than remain ignorant.”
“Where are you off to?” Valentine asked.
“I’m hosting a box at Vauxhall.”
“Nell didn’t tell me anything about it.”
With a slow breath that did nothing to steady him or halt the fresh anger coursing beneath his skin, Sebastian left the room and headed downstairs, the two men behind him. “You’re not invited. I’m hosting the rey and his family.”
“What? Why, when you know—”
“Enough. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Not giving them time to protest that, he strode into the playroom to give Peep a kiss and tell her not to wait up, then trotted downstairs to the foyer. Stanton held his black greatcoat while he slipped into it.
“You shouldn’t go alone,” Shay said in a low voice.
“I’ll be perfectly fine, unless you’ve wagged your tongue to the rest of London.”
His brother squared his shoulders. “I’ve done no such thing, and you know that.”
“Fine. This is my concern, and I’ll resolve it. Good evening.”
“We know you’re angry, Melbourne,” Valentine put in, “but confronting them on your own is pure pride and stupidity.”
He rounded on his brother-in-law and closest friend. “And what would you do, Valentine? Go home. Good night.”
&nb
sp; Valentine watched as Sebastian climbed into his coach and it rolled off into the twilight. “Damn,” he muttered.
“What do we do now? The mighty Melbourne has spoken,” Charlemagne commented from beside him on the front portico.
“Well,” Valentine returned, collecting his coat and gloves from the butler, “I’m going home, col—”
“You do that, then.”
“Let me finish, nitwit. I’m going home, collecting Eleanor, and then we’re driving to Vauxhall and renting the nearest box to Melbourne’s I can get my hands on. And you?”
Shay flashed him a grim smile. “Sarala and I will meet you there. And I’m not a nitwit.”
“Right. I was thinking of Zachary. We’d best inform him, as well.”
Valentine pulled on his gloves and headed out to his horse. It appeared the Griffin clan, of which he proudly considered himself a part whatever he might say aloud, was going to war. Heaven help Costa Habichuela.
Chapter 15
Sebastian stood in the downstairs sitting room at Colonel Branbury’s house and refused to pace. Probably no one would ever appreciate how much self-control it took to keep him there, when all he wanted to do was find Josefina and shake her until she told him the damned truth.
At the moment he had to doubt that any conversation he’d ever had with her was sincere. And that meant everything he felt for her, everything he’d done with her, had been part of some kind of plan, a manipulation, to keep him quiet while she and the rey stole funds from England and prepared to send any citizen gullible enough to wish for a new life into a hellhole.
He clenched his fists, wishing for a moment that he could be someone other than the Duke of Melbourne, someone who could put his fist through a wall and beat the rey to a bloody pulp without sacrificing his and his family’s reputation.
The door opened. “Your Grace,” the rey said with a smile, coming forward to offer his hand. “Thank you for inviting us to join you tonight, and for your continued support.”
Putting a matching smile on his face, Sebastian shook hands. “I’m glad you were able to find new assistance so readily.”
Sins of a Duke Page 18
