Sins of a Duke

by Suzanne Enoch

  She swept to her feet, the lilac scent intensifying. “Stuff and nonsense,” she muttered. “Is there anything else I should know about this wretched assembly?”

  “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 buttonholes. 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 acumen 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 Habichuela 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 Habichuela. 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. God 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 shimmering 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 God. 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 Habichuela,” 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 fashioned from granite. “That was when our ship anchored 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 Habichuela, 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 asset 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 Habichuela 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 amusement 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 on
ly 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 assembly rooms, and once again it was Deverill who offered a hand to assist 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.”

  His smile deepening, he pulled out his pocket watch with his free hand. “Nine seconds,” he said, snapping it closed again.

  Her cheeks heated, and she dug her fingers into his sleeve to retaliate. “So you think you have me figured out, do you? I daresay you have no idea.”

  “Enlighten me then, Princess.”

  She sniffed. “First present me to these absurd women.”

  “Say that any louder, and you’ll be asked to leave before I have time to check my watch again.”

  Blast it all. She wanted to slap the smug expression off his face. At the same time she absolutely believed that he hadn’t been bluffing, that he would slap her right back, and in the middle of the room. She’d already seen how he reacted to her arguing, but there was a time and a place for making her annoyance known. This was neither. “Fine,” she muttered. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

  “Very well, but it won’t be me presenting you.” He lifted a hand and signaled at someone across the room.

  “Why not?” she demanded.

  “Two reasons. One, I will not put myself in the position of being turned away by anyone, much less those chits, and two, if—”

  “But you’ll have me put in that position?”

  “You already are,” he returned calmly. “As I was saying, two, if I present you, then rumors will fly that I’m courting you and that I’m trying to force Society to accept you. That will be the surest way to see that they don’t.”

  It made sense. “So you’re doing me a favor by abandoning me,” she said anyway.

  He snorted. “Princess Josefina, this is my aunt, Lady Gladys Tremaine. Auntie, may I present Princess Josefina Embry?”

  Josefina turned to face a stout woman wearing a matronly blue silk gown and an easy, infectious smile. “Good evening, Your Highness,” the woman said, sinking into a curtsy and then grabbing Melbourne’s free arm to drag herself upright again.

  Belatedly Josefina nodded back at her. “Lady Gladys.”

  “So you’re the one half of London’s been talking about,” Melbourne’s aunt continued.

  “Indeed she is,” Melbourne commented, slipping free of both of them. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  And just like that he vanished into the growing crowd. “Infuriating man,” Josefina muttered.

  “Oh, he is that,” his aunt agreed. “Come along, there’s quite a crowd tonight. I think everyone’s here to see you and your parents.”

  With Melbourne out of sight, Josefina finally took a moment to look around. The assembly rooms seemed nearly stuffed to the rafters, and the part of the crowd that hadn’t surrounded her parents closed in around her. No one chatted with her, of course; they only wanted to stare. She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, sending up a quick thanks to Melbourne for suggesting that she wear white. All of the other young ladies were.

  “When it’s our turn,” Melbourne’s aunt was saying in a quiet voice, “they’ll ask you a few silly questions and then they’ll all take turns nodding or welcoming you to the assembly.” She grinned. “Melbourne escorted you in, so they won’t have any choice.”

  “But he said he wouldn’t risk them making him look foolish.”

  “Gentlemen don’t make the presentation, so to his face one of them might have dared make a row over the break in tradition. With him looking on and having respectable old me do the honors, you’ll have as easy a time as anyone ever did, except perhaps for his sister, Nell. That was quite an evening, with everyone falling all over themselves to be nice to Eleanor, and her just eighteen.” Lady Gladys moved them closer to a group of a dozen or so women seated in chairs at one side of the room. “Oh, yes, they’re all here. And if they ask whether you waltzed at the Elkins soiree, tell them you don’t recall.”

  “You mean I can’t waltz anywhere without their permission?”

  “That’s the tradition. Believe me, if anyone would ask them to waltz, they wouldn’t care so much about what other girls are doing.”

  The crowd in front of them parted. How strange, that something she hadn’t known about an hour ago had become of tantamount importance. Her parents wouldn’t care whether she received permission to waltz or not, only that she made a good impression. No, this was about wanting to be able to waltz with Melbourne—not just tonight, but any night hereafter that she chose to do so.

  “Ladies,” Lady Gladys said, abruptly much more formidable than she’d been a moment before, “may I present Princess Josefina of Costa Habichuela? Her parents, as you’ve probably heard by now, are rey and queen of that country.”

  Josefina inclined her head, not knowing what was customary but refusing to curtsy before a group of social inferiors. One of them, Lady Jersey, was rumored to be a mistress of the Regent, but that did not make her royalty.

  “How old are you, Your Highness?” one of them asked, her voice cool and condescending.

  None of your blasted affair. “Two and twenty,” she said aloud, remembering her father’s advice. Lose three years, and gain a duke—it seemed a fair-enough trade, though it was still entirely likely that the duke was more trouble than he was worth.

  “And how long do you plan to remain in London?”

  “That depends on my father the rey’s wishes,” she returned.

  One of them glanced beyond Josefina’s shoulder, then gave a tight smile. “We are pleased to welcome you to Almack’s, Your Highness. We do hope you enjoy your evening.”

  “Nod again, thank them, and we walk away,” Melbourne’s aunt whispered.

  Josefina nodded. “Thank you,” she said, and walked back into the crowd. There. She’d done it.

  “Well done, Princess Josefina,” a deep, masculine voice came from just off to one side.

  He
r breath stilled. “Thank you, Melbourne,” she returned. “Is there somewhere I might get a breath of air?”

  “Certainly,” he said, moving up beside her and offering his arm again. “Don’t tell me that overset you.”

  “I am not overset,” she stated, wrapping her hand around his sleeve and allowing him to lead the way toward a doorway halfway down the length of the room. “It is stifling in here.”

  “It is that.”

  A large man blocked their path. “Melbourne, the—”

  His arm jerked a little, and she looked up at his face. Had that been annoyance? Whatever the expression, it was gone so quickly that she couldn’t be certain. “I’ll be with you in a moment, Shipley,” he said, moving around the obstruction.

  “Business?” she asked, her general antagonism toward him drowned by curiosity.

  “It’s always business. I hope your father realizes what he’s let himself in for.”

  They went through the crowded doorway, turned a corner, walked through another door, and ended up outside at what looked like a service entrance. A blank wall faced them across the alleyway, a narrow band of dark sky and dim stars above.

  “Not much of a view,” she said dryly.

  “No, but it is air.”

  It was also relatively quiet, and at this time of evening, private. “I don’t know about you,” she said, looking into gray eyes turned black in the gloom.

  “What don’t you know about me?”

  “You offer me good advice, then you practically cut me, then you gain me acceptance at Almack’s, insulting me once or twice in the process, then find me a quiet place where I can catch my breath.”

  “Ah,” he returned, humor in the brief word. “Let’s talk about you for a moment. You attack from all angles, like a troop of marauding huns. A jab here, a smile there, an arrow to my pride, and a javelin to my sensibility.”

  “And what does all that mean?”

  “You irritate me.”