Sins of a Duke

by Suzanne Enoch

  He was the second man in a row to refer to her as a whore. She clenched her jaw. “I would like to purchase passage on the morning stage,” she said.

  “No room left,” he returned, giving her another look before he resumed his conversation.

  Flexing her fingers, she tapped him on the shoulder. “None at all? My aunt is very ill, and I need to get to York without delay.”

  “I’m sorry, miss, but the only seat left is up on top. Only men up there today. Rough sorts.”

  “I’ll take it,” she said, setting her portmanteau at her feet and opening her reticule. “How much to get me to York?”

  “That’s three quid, miss, and two days sitting out in the weather. It ain’t a pleasant way to travel.”

  “I’ll risk it.” Beginning to wonder whether she should have taken more money from her father’s funds, she counted out the fee and handed it over. She told herself that she’d borrowed part of the ten thousand pounds Sebastian had given in return for her hand. He could afford the loss.

  As soon as she thought of him, she wanted to cry again. If she’d been able to leave him a note she would have done so, but she hadn’t dared. She couldn’t take the chance that her father would read it.

  Red Jim opened up a ledger book and took a square piece of paper from his pocket. Scribbling something on it with a pencil stub that he tucked back behind his ear, he gave her the paper. “The stage boards in the courtyard, in fifteen minutes. No refunds.”

  “Thank you.”

  He ignored her, going back to his conversation once more. Fifteen minutes. It seemed like both far too long and far too short a time to wait. Conchita had been instructed not to wake her until ten o’clock this morning, so she should be better than two hours out of London before anyone realized she was missing. Even then, her father would have no idea what to do or where she might have gone.

  If he told anyone she’d gone missing, the publicity could hurt his land sale efforts. More likely he would invent a reason that she had to sail home to Costa Habichuela, and he would have some of Captain Morton’s men look for her in secret.

  Sebastian could be a bigger problem. He wouldn’t keep silent to help her father’s cause, but he might choose to do so to minimize a scandal. She had intentionally left no clues, so he could proceed however he wished. If the wedding truly had been nothing more than the most efficient way to stop her father, then Sebastian could only be relieved. If he’d meant to marry her because he…because…

  Stop it, she ordered herself. She could wallow in self-pity once she was seated on the coach headed north. Until then, she needed to pay attention to what she was doing and saying, even where she was looking.

  She picked up the portmanteau and left the inn. The two men by the door were gone, but the courtyard still teemed with horses, passengers, and the people seeing them off and taking the delivered mail. Picking a spot along the wall where she could see the horses being harnessed and busy Aldersgate Street beyond, she adjusted her bonnet again and waited.

  A few people looked at her, but from the comments she could overhear they seemed curious mostly because she was a young woman traveling alone. She had her story to explain that, and it didn’t trouble her. As for those like the two men by the door, she had the loaded pistol she’d taken from her bed stand. She was after all a soldier’s daughter. However refined her education, she knew how to take care of herself.

  A tear ran unbidden down her left cheek, and she swiftly wiped it away. When she considered it, by leaving London she was actually doing nothing more than returning herself to the social position where she should have been all along. Her mother had been a lady of quality, a viceroy’s daughter, and her father an officer. She was supposed to be a governess at worst, a parson’s or minor landowner’s wife at best. Marriage—that was not going to happen now, not ever. But a princess, a duchess? The Duchess of Melbourne, yet? Nonsense. Ridiculous, fairy-tale stupidity. From today on she would be real. Nothing more, and nothing less.

  “Tickets, please!” Red Jim stood up on a wooden box in front of the mail coach’s door and repeated his bellow. “Tickets!”

  She joined the group who hurried forward. Two women and one man took seats inside the substantial vehicle while Red Jim took her ticket and made a note in his ledger book. “Samuel, help the girl aboard,” he called. “First floor, if you please.”

  “Aye.”

  One of the grooms took her portmanteau and tied it with the others being loaded at the rear of the coach. The other, Samuel, she assumed, took her around the waist and lifted her skyward. She yelped as the driver grabbed her from above and perched her on one of the pair of thinly padded benches facing one another on the roof. Quickly she gathered her wits and moved to the forward-sitting seat. She had no desire to face backward for two days.

  A scrawny man with a missing front tooth clambered up to sit beside her. “Mornin’, love,” he said with a broad smile. As he adjusted his coat she caught a whiff of sheep smell.

  Below, Samuel helped an elderly woman and her younger female companion inside the coach, while the two men from the inn doorway climbed up the outside of the vehicle to sit opposite her. Splendid. “Well, we’ll have a pretty view, won’t we, Johnny?” the bulkier one drawled.

  “Aye, Tim. Hello again, Your Majesty.”

  Swiftly she weighed her options before she responded. If they were journeying all the way to York they might better serve as allies. “I prefer Miss Grimm,” she said with a shy nod. Colonel Branbury’s butler would never know she’d borrowed his name. “I apologize if I was rude before; I’m hoping to take a governess position in York, where my aunt is convalescing, and I suppose I’m a bit…nervous about it.”

  “No worries, love. We’ll put in a good word for ya, eh, Tim?”

  “That’s right, Johnny.”

  The sheep-smelling man didn’t offer his name, but grinned in apparent agreement. Well, it could be worse, she supposed. She charmed people for her father all the time. And with two days to sit together, by the time they reached York there was no telling how much helpful information she might learn.

  The coach lurched into motion and rolled out of the courtyard. The sheep man waved at someone, but she and apparently Johnny and Tim had no one to bid farewell to. In twenty minutes they’d reached the outskirts of London, and travel along the crowded road became a shade easier.

  As they rolled northward she slowly began to relax. She’d made it. No one would guess where she’d gone. Without a note to go by, her parents would probably think she’d returned to Jamaica and the few friends she had there. Sebastian—what would he think? She had no idea. Chances were that he wouldn’t look for her at all.

  “You been to York before, Miss Grimm?” sheep man asked after better than an hour on the road.

  “No. My aunt works for a family that took a house up there. Until now we’ve been corresponding.”

  Tim and Johnny had been muttering to each other for the past several miles. Since it didn’t seem to be about her, she didn’t pay them much attention. Instead she let her mind wander to what plan she would have to conjure if it turned out that she was carrying Sebastian’s child. No one would hire an unmarried woman with a baby; she would have to be a widow, she supposed. The alternative would be to give the infant up, and she would never, ever do that. It would be all she ever had of Sebastian.

  “—telling you, Tim, I’ve seen him before. He’s a lord or something.”

  “Oh, aye, Johnny. A lord riding along in the dust behind the mail coach.”

  “Maybe he forgot to frank a letter.”

  Both men laughed. Suddenly alert, Josefina watched them. Their gaze was past her, looking back along the road in the direction of London. Every fiber of her wanted to turn around and see what they were talking about—who they were talking about. But neither could she afford to raise any unnecessary suspicion. No one—including her—had any reason to connect a lone, apparently well-dressed man with her.

  “I’m
just saying,” Johnny continued, “he looks familiar. Like one of them cabinet ministers of Prinny’s or something.”

  “Where’ve you seen a cabinet minister?”

  “I took a horse down to Tattersall’s last year for Sir William. All the dashers was there. Him, too, I think.”

  Josefina clenched her hands into her dress. Oh, for heaven’s sake, one look and she could relax again. But if it was some cabinet minister, he might recognize her. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. No cabinet minister, no nobleman, would expect to see Princess Josefina Embry riding on the top of the north-bound mail stage.

  With a last deep breath she turned her head and looked over her shoulder. Fifty yards behind the coach and easily keeping pace with the lumbering vehicle rode a lean, dark-haired man. Her heart stopped.

  It wasn’t a cabinet minister. It was the Duke of Melbourne. And he looked right back at her.

  “Oh, dear.”

  Chapter 23

  “You know who that fellow is, Miss Grimm?” Tim asked.

  Swiftly Josefina faced forward again. What had she done wrong? How had she given her plan away? She hadn’t told a soul, for heaven’s sake. And why the devil was he just following her, instead of storming the coach? All three men seated with her were looking from her to Sebastian in a blatantly curious fashion, and she gulped a breath. “What is our next stop?” she asked, her voice wobbling.

  “Biggleswade,” sheep man answered promptly. “Near an hour from here.”

  “You think that bloke means to follow the coach all the way to Biggleswade?” Johnny gazed at their pursuer again.

  She couldn’t see Sebastian giving up and turning around, when he’d clearly been behind them since London. “I think he might,” she conceded.

  “So who is he?”

  “He make some sort of trouble for you, Miss Grimm?”

  Apparently the two men who’d been ready to steal her luggage earlier were now her staunch defenders. For a brief moment she considered it. But even if they did manage to stop Melbourne’s pursuit, he now knew she was heading north. For a shilling or two Red Jim would undoubtedly be happy to reveal that she’d purchased passage to York. Chances were, he already had. Aside from that, she had no wish to see Sebastian pummeled.

  “I don’t suppose one of you would be willing to marry me,” she muttered, twisting to look behind her again. He hadn’t fallen back, nor had he moved any closer. He was torturing her, damn it all, trying to force her to make the next move.

  “I already have a wife, miss,” sheep man offered. “Bess has a temper, but she’s a good lass for all that.”

  “He wants to marry you?”

  “It’s very complicated, Johnny, but yes, he says he wants to marry me.”

  “He done you poorly, then?”

  “No. I’m afraid I’ll do him poorly.” She already had. “As I said, it’s very complicated.”

  “Aye, it sounds a mess.” Johnny elbowed Tim in the ribs, and the two of them began muttering to one another again.

  Josefina sank lower onto the hard seat. And she’d thought the hack had been a rough ride. So much for her grand plan. All she could hope for now was that if given enough time to follow her, Sebastian would realize how much easier it would make everything if he simply turned around. Failing that, she supposed she could wait until they reached Biggleswade and attempt to explain it to him—though the thought of speaking with him again made her tremble. And then there was the third alternative, that he would tire of playing his waiting game and stop the stage.

  “You know how to darn stockings and such?” Tim asked abruptly, eyeing her hands as though looking for callouses or something.

  “What? Of course I know how.”

  “Then I reckon I’ll take you. I could stand to have a hot meal waiting for me when I come home. And you’re pretty enough.”

  Oh, good God. “Tim, I’m grateful for your kindness, but—”

  “Willie, lad,” Tim interrupted, turning to nudge the driver in the back, “stop this hack.”

  “I ain’t stoppin’ every time you need to take a piss.”

  “I’m gettin’ married. Just need to tell the lady’s other fella to get himself back to London before he gets hurt.”

  Willie guffawed, then turned around to see the rider behind them. “Hell, I can’t miss this,” he said, and hauled on the reins. “Whoa, lads. Whoa, there.”

  Blast it all. “Perhaps we should continue on,” Josefina urged, her voice squeaking.

  “Na. I know his kind. Soft-handed dandy. I’ll bloody ’is nose a bit, and he’ll turn tail. So what’s your given name, girl?”

  Josefina flung up her hands. “Mabel.”

  The coach rolled to a halt, and Sebastian drew even with them. He was surprised; he could have ridden them down an hour ago, or stopped her before she ever climbed aboard. It seemed more important to discover what she intended to do rather than to impose his own will on events. Hopefully the stop signaled that Josefina had come to her senses and realized that whatever she was up to wouldn’t succeed.

  “Hello,” he said, looking up at her.

  “Hello yourself, mate,” one of the large men seated opposite her returned. “You got no business following us, so go on home.”

  Sebastian kept his gaze on Josefina. “A friend of yours?” he asked her.

  “Me and Mabel is to be married. So you get yourself back to London, old rip.”

  She rolled her eyes, giving a slight shake of her head. Mabel. Not Princess Josefina. “Mabel can’t be marrying you, because she’s marrying me,” he stated, crossing his wrists over the pommel of the saddle.

  “Sebastian, go home,” she finally said, her voice unsteady. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Marrying…What’s your name, my good man?”

  “Tim. Timothy Boots.”

  “Marrying Mr. Boots is your solution to our dilemma?” he continued.

  “That’s right, me rum cove. Me and Mabel Grimm. Don’t make me come down there and wallop you.”

  “Well, sir, I think you will have to come down here and wallop me, because otherwise Miss…Grimm is leaving with me.”

  “Sebastian, don’t. This is ridiculous.”

  “I agree.” In the coach everyone was hanging out the window, listening to every word being spoken. Whatever happened, people would hear of it. Everyone would hear of it. And he didn’t give a damn. “Why don’t you explain to me what you’re doing sitting on the roof of the mail coach bound for York?”

  “I’m removing myself from the equation,” she returned. “No one will have me to use for leverage. I won’t need protecting from anything, because I won’t be there.”

  Mr. Boots climbed over the edge of the roof, balanced on one of the wheels, and then dropped to the ground. “That’s right. She won’t be there.”

  Blowing out his breath, Sebastian dismounted and led Merlin to the coach, where he looped the reins through the left front wheel spokes. “I told you I had a plan,” he said, shedding his coat and dumping it across the saddle.

  “Now you don’t need a plan. Tell the truth.”

  “I like my plan better. It leaves me with more options. Come down here, and I’ll tell you about it.”

  “You stay up there, Mabel. I’ll be done with this jack-a-dandy in a minute.”

  Evidently they were going to fight. Timothy Boots had probably two stone on him, but he looked like a brawler rather than a fighter. “I’m not leaving without you, Mabel,” Sebastian said, his attention shifting to the circling Mr. Boots.

  “Can’t you understand that this is best?” she countered. “I’m setting my life, my place in the world, to where it belongs.”

  “Where you belong,” he retorted, “is with me.”

  “You’re just…you’re just lonely. You’ll find someone else. Someone who doesn’t surround herself with chaos and misery.”

  Boots lunged at him, but Sebastian sidestepped and the blow missed him. “You hear what you’
re getting, Mr. Boots? Chaos and misery. Now me, I like chaos. And the misery is a matter of opinion.” He risked a glance up at Josefina. She’d crawled across her bench mate to peer over the edge at him. “And yes, I am lonely. Every time I say goodbye to you.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Of course it does.” Boots swung at him again, and he blocked the blow with his forearm, twisted, and tripped the man. “Before I met you, I wasn’t lonely. I was alone. And content with that. You woke me up, Jo…Mabel. I’m alive again. And now, without you, yes, I’m lonely. Aren’t you?”

  Timothy Boots pushed to his feet and came at Sebastian again with a roar. Taking the hit in the chest, Sebastian winced as they thudded into the side of the coach. For God’s sake, it was difficult enough to declare his feelings in private. Doing so in front of strangers, and while keeping a giant from smashing his head in, was insanity. And fitting, he supposed.

  “I don’t understand,” Josefina wailed.

  Growling, Sebastian threw Boots off and turned to look up at her. “It’s not complicated, Mabel. I love you. Do you understand that?”

  A hard blow thudded into his chin, and he buckled. Scrambling forward, he crawled under the coach and stood up on the far side. Boots came charging around from the rear. This time Sebastian met him with a hard punch to the face. He followed that with a jab into Boots’s gut, and the fellow collapsed.

  “Get me down, help me down!” he heard coming from the left side of the coach.

  Staggering and shaking the cobwebs from his head, he made his way back just in time to see Josefina jumping down from the rear wheel and landing in a rather ungainly sprawl. He took her arm and helped her to her feet, and she thudded into his chest, grabbing onto the back of his waistcoat and holding him tightly.

  He closed his eyes, hugging her hard. More than her actual flight, the desperate way she held onto him told him how close he’d come to losing her. If he’d missed seeing her climb into that hack, he would have had no idea where to find her—and clearly she hadn’t intended to return.