Sins Of A Duke Part 5

"Mm-hm. Prinny's gotten some sort of honor from them, and he thinks very highly of the rey and his entourage. For me, what's the saying? If something seems too good to be true, etcetera, etcetera." The explanation was as vague as he could make it; Valentine was as sharp as a knife blade, and no one needed to know that he'd blundered so far as to kiss Princess Josefina.

"I'm a d.a.m.n chaperone."

"You-"

"Shay's the diplomatic one. Why isn't he here?"

Sebastian cleared his throat. Because Shay already thinks I'm interested in the chit wouldn't suffice; he wanted an unbiased opinion of the entire situation, not his...insanity where it came to Josefina. "I want eyes, not diplomacy."

"You're being obtuse, and I think it's deliberate. But since you've dragged me along, I shall do my utmost to fulfill my duty at whatever it is I'm doing."

The duke nodded. "That is all I ask."

Ten minutes later as they left the carriage, Colonel Branbury's butler opened the front door for them. "Your Grace, His Majesty awaits your pleasure in the drawing room. This way."

"Thank you."

With Valentine on his heels, Sebastian followed the butler upstairs. The house was well-kept, if small by his standards, and he guessed that Branbury had been a compatriot of the rey's when Embry had served in the British army. "Where is Colonel Branbury, if I might ask?"

"The colonel has given over his house to the Costa Hab.i.+.c.huela delegation," the butler returned, "though he has been called back to the Peninsula. He hopes to return before the end of the Season."

Did Branbury's absence mean something? Bonaparte had been creating havoc on the Peninsula, so the timing of the colonel's trip might well have been mere coincidence.

Stopping before a set of double doors, the butler knocked and then pushed them both open. "His Grace the Duke of Melbourne and guest, Your Majesty, Your Highness."

Princess Josefina sat in one of the chairs beside the fire. Sebastian tried to steel his expression, the effort hampered by Valentine elbowing him in the back and muttering "'And guest'? Since when am I 'and guest'?"

Sebastian bowed, deliberately keeping his gaze on the seated rey rather than the princess. "Your Majesty, Your Highness, may I present my brother-in-law, the Marquis of Deverill? Valentine, this is Stephen Embry, the Rey of Costa Hab.i.+.c.huela, and his daughter, Princess Josefina."

They both remained seated. Recently crowned or not, neither the rey nor his daughter seemed to require any schooling in social rankings. Sebastian rubbed his left eye to cover the jump of his muscles.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Lord Deverill."

"And I you, Your Majesty," Valentine returned with one of his charming smiles. "Sebastian mentioned something about brandy."

"Yes, indeed." Finally the rey rose, gesturing to the footman who stood beside the liquor cabinet. "Three brandies and a gla.s.s of red wine, if you please, lad."

"Very good, Your Majesty."

As Valentine wandered over to collect his drink, Sebastian finally turned his gaze to Princess Josefina. For the barest of moments his breath caught. Tonight her silk gown was violet, dotted with silver to look like starlight.

"Join me, Melbourne," she said, gesturing at the chair her father had vacated.

"Of course." She smelled like lilacs, he decided as he moved past her to sit, though the scent was more likely deadly nightshade.

"So, Your Grace," she continued in a lower voice, while behind them Valentine and the rey chatted about boots, "have you finally decided to mind your manners?"

"I'm searching for the most diplomatic way to offer you another piece of advice," he countered, focusing on the emeralds dangling from her ears, sparkling against the midnight of her hair. The ear bobs jangled as she s.h.i.+fted, and he blinked, refocusing in time to see her gaze on his mouth.

"I don't expect diplomacy from you. Say what you will."

Even if she wanted to begin an argument, he would not play along. He'd learned that strategy. "I only wanted to advise you that it is the custom here for young ladies making their first appearance at Almack's to wear white for their presentation to the patronesses."

Josefina looked down at her dress. "Don't you like my gown?"

He swallowed, his c.o.c.k twitching. "It's very nice. But that's not the point."

"What would those patronesses say to a young lady who didn't bow to their dictates?"

Was that hesitation? Until this second he'd never seen her unsure of her footing. "I've seen them ask girls to leave, never to be invited back again," he answered truthfully.

"That's absurd."

"I agree. But it's also custom."

"I am not customary."

A smile tugged at his mouth. "No, you are not that."

"They wouldn't dare ask a princess to leave."

Wouldn't they? They counted a minor princess among their number. "Honestly, Josefina," he said in a low voice, "I think you should wear white. Your father is trying to find investors, and some of them will be in attendance tonight. You seem eager to cause a stir, but I do not recommend one of that sort."

She swept to her feet, the lilac scent intensifying. "Stuff and nonsense," she muttered. "Is there anything else I should know about this wretched a.s.sembly?"

"If you wish to waltz, you have to be presented to the patronesses and gain their permission."

"Very well. I will wear white, and you will present me." With that she stomped out of the room.

"A female presents you," he amended to her back as she vanished.

A snifter of brandy appeared over his shoulder. "As Zachary would say," Valentine murmured, "St. George's b.u.t.tonholes. That chit is exquisite."

"She's mad," Sebastian returned feelingly, keeping his voice down as the rey approached them. "And irritating." He faced her father. "Do you have a copy of that prospectus for me, Your Majesty?"

"I do." The rey lifted the tome from a side table and handed it over. "And let me say again how much I respect your business ac.u.men and how thankful I am that the Regent has appointed you to aide us."

Sebastian inclined his head. "Will Queen Maria be joining us tonight?"

"Yes, she will." The rey chuckled. "The one universal truth about females everywhere is that they take a very long time to dress." He turned his attention to Valentine. "I hope His Grace might encourage you to invest in Costa Hab.i.+.c.huela as well, Lord Deverill."

"The-"

"Ah, there she is. Maria, you know Melbourne. And this is his brother-in-law, the Marquis of Deverill."

A more matronly version of her daughter, Queen Maria stopped inside the drawing room doorway to curtsy. Where her husband seemed friendly and agreeable, the queen fit the traditional view of royalty-elegant, quiet, and a little aloof. Her daughter had inherited all of those qualities except for the reserved tongue.

"Good evening, gentlemen," she said, straightening. "And thank you, Your Grace, for informing Josefina of the proper custom of dress for this evening. We were unaware."

"My pleasure, Your Majesty."

"I expected more retainers or guards or hangers-on running about the house here," Deverill commented. "Melbourne's got more than this, and he's considered spartan in the area of minions."

"We're in the process of recruiting more of them," the rey said, chuckling.

They talked about the weather and other insignificant topics for the next ten minutes. Sebastian was grateful that he'd brought Valentine along, because the marquis held up their end of the conversation while his mind wandered elsewhere. Mostly his fingers itched to open the prospectus and delve deeper into Costa Hab.i.+.c.huela. At the back of his mind, though, he was waiting, listening for footfalls on the stairs just outside the door.

Did he like her? Did he hate her? Certainly no one in his thirty-four years had ever spoken to him as she did. All he knew was that in her presence he felt like a lion prowling for its next meal; dark, primal, and not the least bit civilized or even rational.

As long as he was aware of it, he supposed that he would be able to carry on with his duty to Prinny and ignore it. G.o.d knew he'd set aside his personal needs and feelings before.

He heard her come back into the room as the others continued to chat. Blowing out his breath, he faced her.

She wasn't in white. Rather, a flowing, low-cut gown of ivory draped from her like cascades of s.h.i.+mmering water. With her pale skin, black hair, and dark eyes, she looked like a porcelain doll. A very sensual porcelain doll.

Her lips parted a little, and she smiled at him. "Better?"

He should never have opened his mouth and told her to change clothes. Good heavenly G.o.d. This was trouble. She was trouble. "Much more appropriate," he said stiffly. His mouth felt dry.

"You'll make me blush, giving me such compliments," she returned, eyes glittering.

"There you are, my dear. Shall we go, Your Grace?"

Grateful for the distraction, he turned his back on her. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

From the corner of his eye he caught Valentine glancing at him before the marquis walked over to offer his arm to the princess. Sebastian didn't like that, but he immediately buried the emotion. Splendid. Now even Deverill had better manners than he did. But if he touched Josefina now, without giving himself a moment to put some distance between her and the...turmoil she roused in him, he would kiss her again. Or worse.

"Thank you, Lord Deverill," Josefina said, taking the marquis's arm. Melbourne probably would have left her standing there in the drawing room and gone ahead without her if he could.

It didn't make sense. Men didn't walk away when they were attracted to someone. Not when both parties were unmarried and of compatible social rank, anyway. For heaven's sake, if anyone turned away it should be she, because he was only a duke.

"Tell me about Costa Hab.i.+.c.huela," Deverill suggested as he handed her into the coach.

With her parents seated on one side and Melbourne by himself on the other, at this moment the duke wasn't going anywhere. Ha. She sank onto the leather seat beside him, pressing closer as Deverill stuffed himself in next to her. "I haven't seen much of it, I'm afraid," she said, smiling at the marquis.

"You haven't?"

"Well, my mother and I were able to join Father for two days in San Saturus," she conceded, noting that there wasn't so much as an inch of give to Melbourne's side as she rocked against him. It was as though he was fas.h.i.+oned from granite. "That was when our s.h.i.+p anch.o.r.ed in the harbor to collect the rey on our way to England."

"Where did you reside, then?"

"Morant Bay, in Jamaica, most recently. With my father fighting against Spain in the Americas, he wanted Mother and me somewhere safe and stable. Once he received Costa Hab.i.+.c.huela, he was so busy organizing a government and surveying the country that he requested we remain in Jamaica and do what we could to aid him from there."

"And a tremendous a.s.set Josefina has been, believe you me," her father put in. "Sharp as a dagger point, the princess is."

"Father," she interrupted, more for effect than out of shyness.

"It's true. And Maria has been invaluable, as well," the rey continued. "She's the daughter of a viceroy, you know."

On her other side, Melbourne finally stirred. "Her Highness mentioned that. When you married an English ex-patriot, Your Majesty, did you have any idea this would happen?"

Maria Embry smiled, sending her husband a fond glance. "Nothing surprises me where Stephen is concerned."

Melbourne continued to clutch the prospectus across his lap as if he thought a stiff breeze would whisk it away. "Still, to become a king-rey, excuse me," he pursued. "That's extraordinary."

"I felt humble and grateful, and determined to do my utmost for my people," the rey said. "That's why we're here. And when we leave, it will be to make Costa Hab.i.+.c.huela our permanent home."

"Barring invasion from Spain," Deverill commented.

"The funds I'm raising and our close alliance with England will help to prevent that."

"Tell me, Melbourne," Josefina began, mostly to give her parents a few moments to prepare for their largest public outing as the leaders of a country, "how many waltzes will be played tonight?"

"Most likely two-one at the beginning of the evening and one near the end. We will have missed the first. You're permitted to join all the other dances. It's only the waltz that requires the patronesses' permission."

"It seems silly. Who are these women?"

"Old frumps, mostly," Deverill drawled. "Stiff and cranky. Their only amus.e.m.e.nt is looking down their noses at everyone else, and the only way they could manage that was to settle in as hostesses of the most boring soirees in London."

Josefina grinned. At least someone seemed willing to give straight answers. "Why does anyone attend, if it's so dull?"

"Because everyone worries that they'll be the only ones not attending if they don't appear. It's quite complex, and a very sad happenstance." He sighed. "And extremely prudish. No alcohol allowed."

She started to ask why he was attending, but changed her mind. He didn't seem to worry over anyone else's opinion, so obviously Melbourne had asked him along. Why, though? Did the duke dislike her? Not according to that kiss. Perhaps he was afraid of her, though given his standing and reputation that didn't seem likely, either. Hm. A puzzle. And the thing she liked best about puzzles was solving them.

Though she had several questions for Melbourne, answers weren't likely to be forthcoming with her parents and his brother-in-law present. She would save them for a dance. And he would dance with her; she would make certain of that.

They arrived at the a.s.sembly rooms, and once again it was Deverill who offered a hand to a.s.sist her. She wondered briefly whether the handsome marquis might be infatuated with her, but dismissed the notion just as quickly. He looked at her with nothing more than the same slightly amused curiosity as he did her parents and everyone else around them.

"Excuse me," she said, freeing her hand from his arm and stepping over to where Melbourne chatted with her father. At least the duke had left the prospectus behind in the coach. "If you will," she said, offering her hand to him.

"Of course." He took her fingers and placed them over his dark sleeve.

"That's good," she returned in a lower voice as he led their group to the entrance, "because otherwise I would think you were slighting me, and I would be insulted again."

"Ah," he breathed, keeping his profile to her. "If you slap me here tonight, I will reciprocate in kind." Finally he glanced down at her. "Consider that you've been warned."

"If you want to frighten me, why don't you threaten to kiss me again?" she returned.

"Because you want me to kiss you again," he murmured.

A slow smile curved his mouth, and heat spun through her. How could anyone who portrayed himself as so stern and aloof have a smile that...heart-stopping?

"I do not," she stated belatedly.

"Then stop arguing with everything I say."

"I do not argue with everything you say."