She lifted her chin. “Does that mean there’ll be no engagement ball?”
“There will be,” he said, “once I convince Josefina to say yes.”
“She turned you down?” Zachary asked skeptically.
“She kicked me, actually. My timing did leave something to be desired.”
“Josefina kicked you,” Eleanor repeated. At his nod, she pursed her lips. “Perhaps I do like her after all.”
“What do we do for the next day and a half?” Valentine finished off his claret and stood. “Are we happy about the match, do we have reservations about the Costa Habichuela settlement, or should I stay indoors and work on increasing the size of my brood with my wife?”
“Valentine,” Nell muttered, shaking her head at him.
“Bringing up the chancy weather in Central America might be a good idea. But don’t be too obvious.”
“Please. I am a master of subtlety. Come, my dear.”
“I’ll keep you abreast of events,” Sebastian said, handing Caroline to her feet and following the quartet to the door. “And Nell?”
The youngest Griffin sibling faced him, her expression wary. “Yes?”
“Josefina makes me happy.”
Eleanor leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “Then we’d best make your fraud a successful one.”
As Josefina finished sewing the green cross on the sleeve of her newest gown, an emerald wonder in silk and lace, she could hear her father and Halloway in his office across the hallway. Both men were laughing, making alternating remarks about the stupid arrogance of the Duke of Melbourne and the rich scent of the ten thousand quid he’d handed over when he’d signed the marriage agreement.
To her father the money meant he’d won—not only had he managed to avoid parting company with any funds, but he’d also added more to his coffer from the very same fool trying to stop him. To her, though, the money meant that Sebastian was serious when he said he wanted to marry her.
“Is something troubling you, hija?” her mother asked from the neighboring chair.
“Isn’t something troubling you?” she retorted, dropping her stitching onto her lap. “He’s gone too far this time. People could die.”
Maria Embry lifted a delicately arched eyebrow. “Have you ever lacked for food, or comfort, or an education?”
“No. Of course not.” She frowned. “But this is different.”
“Your father is a nobleman trapped in a commoner’s body. He’s only trying to be what he is. A king must have subjects.”
“Dead ones?”
“They will have supplies. And you’ve never been to the Mosquito Coast. Don’t be so sure this endeavor is doomed.”
“But this…” Josefina lowered her voice even though she doubted her father could overhear her in the midst of all his self-congratulations. “He’s not just taking money from a bank any longer; he’s taking the life savings of families who have less than he began with. Supplies or not, what do you truly think will happen when they arrive at Costa Habichuela?”
“My point is that we can’t know,” her mother returned in the same cool tone she used for dinner conversation. “And it is your father’s business, and none of mine.” She looked down at her sewing again. “If you have questions, you should ask him.”
“I have. I’m beginning to think he believes all the tales he’s been telling. This must stop, Mama.”
The older woman glanced toward the half open door. “I don’t know how to stop it without destroying him utterly,” she murmured. “It’s not that I have no compassion for those pobres desgraciados; it’s just that I have more compassion for my husband.” Her fingers paused in their task. “Would you care to tell Melbourne the entire truth? He would look at you differently, and he would certainly find a way to avoid marrying you.”
Melbourne knew, and he still looked at her the same way. He still wanted to marry her. While her mother had been wrong about him, however, she certainly spoke the truth where the rest of Society was concerned. They would all loathe her father, be disgusted at the idea that they’d willingly associated with him. Melbourne could keep some of it from touching her, but in return it would touch him.
“I’m going to bed,” she said, gathering up her sewing kit and then ringing for Conchita. “And I still wish you would at least suggest that he buy back the land he’s sold. No one needs to suffer or die because of his dreams. That is not anything I can be proud of.”
She arrived at her bedchamber before Conchita, and deliberately walked over to unlatched the window and push it open. She could ask herself questions about her reasons for wanting to marry Sebastian, but she knew they’d never had much to do with his ability to protect her.
It was more troubling to consider whether she had the same illness as her father, that need to be more lofty than she was. Because she liked the way Sebastian made her feel—precious, valued, exalted.
“No,” she muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed. With Harek she’d had much the same opportunity for a title and legitimate social elevation. She might have taken it, too, before Sebastian had surprised her in this very room. But the way she felt when she imagined a life with Harek—it was nothing close to the shivers of dread and delight just setting eyes on Sebastian gave her.
And he needed her, which left her not as uncomfortable as it had initially, but rather humbled. He found her necessary not because she was a princess or a great heiress or good at convincing people to part with their money, but for something she couldn’t quite put words to. When they’d first met she’d seen his aloneness, heard it in his aloof, cool voice. Over the past days that loneliness seemed to have left him, and she thought she was the reason for it. It was a heady, powerful, joyous feeling—one she’d never thought to have in her life, and one she didn’t want to give up. Ever.
She looked toward the window again, her heart twisting. She didn’t want him to have to climb through windows and leave before dawn; she wanted him to be there, and to know that he was there forever. Not because of what she claimed to be, but because of who she was. And because in his company she liked who she was better than she ever had before.
A few more days. Just a few more days and she would know whether she had earned the life she wanted with Sebastian, or whether she needed to flee into the night, alone.
Chapter 21
“Good morning, Your Grace,” Stanton said, as Sebastian came downstairs.
“Good morning. Is my daughter awake?”
“She is in the breakfast room.”
“Thank you. I’m only in for family and the Costa Habichuela party.” He turned down the hallway.
“Very good, Your Grace. Lord Charlemagne arrived five minutes ago. He is in with Lady Peep.”
Ah, Shay. Sebastian took a breath. He hadn’t wanted a fight this morning, feeling more inclined to smile idiotically for no reason at all, but he wouldn’t back away from a quarrel, either. For a man of four-and-thirty who’d spent half his life governing the most powerful country in the world, the way he craved being around Josefina was just…pitiful. “We’ll need some privacy.”
“I shall see to it.”
Sebastian pushed open the breakfast room door. “Good morning.”
Peep ran forward, grabbing his hands to drag him toward his seat at the head of the table. “You need to talk to Uncle Shay,” she said, releasing him to pull out his heavy chair.
Charlemagne sat in his old place just on the right, while Penelope’s half-consumed breakfast lay across from that. “Yes, I know I do,” Sebastian answered. “I thought he and I might take a walk in the garden while you finish your break—”
“It can’t wait that long,” his daughter interrupted. “Uncle Shay, tell Papa what you told me.”
Shay’s dour expression tightened. “Peep, I wasn’t—”
She held out her hand, gesturing for him to stop. “I will tell you. Uncle Shay says I can be a princess.” The seven-year-old put a hand over her heart.
Sebastian lift
ed an eyebrow. “He does, does he?”
“Yes. He said that if you marry Princess Josefina, then I may be a princess if I want to, because everyone in her family can be whatever they want to be. And when you marry her, I will be part of her family!”
His amusement at Peep’s conclusions vanishing as he heard the reason for it, Sebastian scarcely noted Stanton’s brief appearance followed by the exit of Tom and Harry, the two footmen. “I don’t believe that is precisely what your uncle meant, my dear,” he said in the calmest voice he could muster.
She pinned Shay with a suspicious gaze. “Isn’t it?” she demanded.
“In actuality,” Sebastian cut in before his brother could make matters worse by trying to explain the fiasco logically, “I believe what Uncle Shay meant was that upon her marriage, Josefina will no longer use her honorary title of princess. She will be known as the Duchess of Melbourne.”
“Like Mama.”
A muscle in his cheek jumped. “Yes, like Mama.”
Shay pushed to his feet. “Care to take that walk now?”
He resisted the urge to clear his throat. “Yes. We’ll be back in a few minutes, Peep.”
“Take your time. I’m enjoying this peach. Is Uncle Zach coming by, too? Because if he is, I’m going to hide the rest of the peaches.”
“No, I’m not expecting him, my sweet. Your peaches are safe.” With that, Sebastian strode down the hallway and out the front door, Shay on his heels. Halfway to the stables, his brother dropped back.
“I’m not going to make this a foot race, Melbourne,” he said, stopping.
Sebastian turned on his heel. “Whatever your reservations about this situation with the Embrys, you are not to discuss it with my daughter. Is that clear?”
“I don’t call it a ‘situation,’” Charlemagne retorted. “I call it you going stark raving mad and ordering everyone to see nothing out of the ordinary about it. You are helping to perpetuate a fraud against England, dammit.”
“Only so I can end it,” Sebastian muttered tightly. “What precisely about this ‘situation’ makes me a lunatic?”
“You need me to tell you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Fine.” Shay jabbed the toe of his boot into the gravel. “Aside from the insanity of thinking you can single-handedly manage to protect everyone from a fraud of this magnitude and save the chit from harm, you’ve spent four years mourning Charlotte.”
Irritation bit into him. “I am not going to discuss—”
“You’ve known this woman for less than a month,” Shay interrupted. “And you expect me to believe that your sudden desire to marry her has nothing to do with the circumstances of her father and this fiasco?”
Whether that had been true at the beginning or not, it was now. “Yes.”
“I see. So when did you decide she was the one to replace Charlotte?”
“She’s not replacing anyone,” Sebastian snapped. “Charlotte and I were cheated, and I mourn her. I will miss her for the rest of my life. I never looked for anyone else, and I certainly never expected to find anyone, but I did. The moment I set eyes on her.”
“Sebast—”
“I’m not finished,” he countered. “Would I be marrying her if she hadn’t announced it first? I don’t know. Probably not, mainly because of the reaction of people like you.”
“That’s a sharp knife you just stuck me with,” Shay muttered, his eyes squinted against the midmorning sun. “My concern is your…heightened sense of honor, Sebastian. I don’t want to see you trapped because of it.”
“Actually, I feel…uncaged. Valentine says the family’s racked up enough good credit that I can spend some of it if I like. And so I am.” He gave a brief smile, then sobered again. “I suppose what I’m trying to say is that my heart didn’t die with Charlotte, which is surprising to me, because I thought it had. And at the moment it seems to be directing the proceedings.” Sebastian gazed steadily at his younger brother. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“I have reservations.” Charlemagne frowned. “You didn’t talk with Josefina about your plan to flood Costa Habichuela, did you?”
“No,” he returned reluctantly.
“Strategy, or because you know she could still bring us down with one word of warning to the rey?”
“Strategy. I trust her.” He probably shouldn’t, and his belief in her was something he couldn’t even articulate, but it was there, and he chose not to question it.
“Then I’ll be worried enough for the both of us.”
Slowly Sebastian nodded. “I’ll accept that. Did you bring the letter?”
Shay pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “I think we covered all the points. Rice-Able’s quite a hand at this, I have to say. And now he’s talking about taking a sabbatical and going exploring again.”
“If this works, I’ll fund his expeditions for the remainder of his life. Let’s take a look.”
“Look!” Stephen Embry ordered, a broad smile on his face. He shoved Josefina’s breakfast plate aside and tossed down a newspaper in its place.
“What am I looking at?” she asked, gazing at the headlines. Tariffs, the number of dead in the latest battle on the Peninsula, grain riots in York—none of it affected her directly. Oddly, though, it felt like it did—because it affected Sebastian.
“Page three,” he said, reaching over her shoulder to turn the page when she didn’t react quickly enough. He jabbed his finger at the large square on the left. “There.”
“Oh.” Her heart stopped and then resumed in a flurry of rapid beats.
“That’s all you have to say? ‘Oh’? Read it aloud. I want to hear it.”
She cleared her throat. “‘The Griffin family of Devonshire is pleased to announce the engagement of its patriarch, Sebastian, the Duke of Melbourne, to Josefina Embry, Royal Princess of Costa Habichuela. The lovely Josefina is the only child and heir of Stephen and Maria Embry, Rey and Queen of Costa Habichuela. The couple’s engagement ball will be announced shortly.’”
“Ha, ha!” the rey laughed, snatching the newspaper back and rereading the announcement. “I would have put in a bit more about Costa Habichuela and how we’re selling plots of land, but it is nicely set off by the border and the Griffin coat of arms. Not a bit shabby.”
“You didn’t place the announcement?” Josefina asked, her voice not quite as even as she would have liked. Heavens, it was in print. For anyone to see.
“I would have, if it hadn’t appeared today. You may have tricked Melbourne into this, but I have to say, I’m impressed. He’ll make a good ally. And son-in-law.”
Sebastian had placed the announcement. Of course propriety required that certain customs be observed, but propriety hadn’t dictated that she be described as “the lovely” anything. Apparently he wanted the rest of London to know that this was not simply a politically or socially motivated alliance. He liked her.
And she liked him. Oh, what was she doing? Over her shoulder Grimm and one of the footmen were busily removing breakfast foods from the sideboard. “Grimm, that will be all for now, thank you.”
The butler bowed. “Your Majesty, Your Highness.” In a second she and her father were alone in the breakfast room.
The rey popped a grape into his mouth, his attention still on the newspaper. “Glorious. Glorious,” he chuckled.
“Father—Papa—I need to ask you a question,” Josefina said, keeping her voice low and mindful of his warnings about being overheard.
“What is it, my sweet?”
“As you said, Melbourne can make us a very good ally,” she began, choosing her words and her tone with care. “We can be comfortable for life.”
“We can and will be, you mean. I’ve left him no choice, and I’ll never put myself in the position of being dictated to or controlled by him.”
The smug superiority in his voice used to make her feel the same. Now it made her flinch. “Explain to me, then, why you have to intentionally anger him by s
ending off shiploads of people for whom he feels responsible. We don’t need that income or that potential trouble any longer.”
“I think I can decide what we do or don’t need. And those shiploads of people have put sixty thousand quid into my pocket thus far. That’s six years worth of Melbourne’s charity.”
“But he would give you more if he trusted you.”
Slowly he folded the newspaper. “I’ve fought and scratched my entire life,” he finally said. “Don’t fling Melbourne in my face as some paragon of virtue. He was born into wealth and status. Do you think he’s ever suffered so much as a poor night’s sleep in his life?” He took a breath. “It’s easy to have principles when nothing challenges them.”
Actually she thought Sebastian had his share of sleepless nights, completely aside from the death of his wife. How could he not, when so many people relied on him and when he took so much of what happened to any of them so personally? She’d heard what he’d done for those people at the Abbey, feeding them and providing them with supplies to replant their blighted wheat, and they didn’t even live on his land. “You’re not the only one who’s fought for everything you have.”
“You, you mean?” He lifted an eyebrow, an imitation of what he’d seen Sebastian do. “You have no idea what—”
“Not me,” she countered quickly. “I know how hard you’ve worked to see that I was given a privileged upbringing. I’m talking about all those people who’ve bought land and passage to Costa Habichuela. Most of them just want the opportunity for a new life—like you did.”
“Not like me,” he returned, a sneer entering his tone. “I never trusted anything but my own wits and other peoples’ greed. If those fools choose to spend their last shilling on something that sounds far too good to be true, I can only hope they aren’t overly surprised when it turns out to be exactly that.”
“Papa, that’s awful. We only used to take money from those who could afford the loss.”
“Someone’s bound to take advantage of such gullibility. It might as well be me.” He sat forward, taking her hand. “And you. I couldn’t have done this without you, Josefina. I’m just an old soldier at heart. You, you’re a lady. A lady who will become a duchess in less than a month.”
Sins of a Duke Page 26
