Josefina frowned. “Well, isn’t that nice to kn—”
He tilted her chin up with his fingertips and closed his mouth over hers. Fire danced along her nerves. The Duke of Melbourne kissed with an intensity, a heat, almost a desperation, that she’d never encountered before. As stoic as he could be in conversation, his embrace overflowed, overwhelmed, with emotion.
Her back thudded against the wall. Thoughts tangling, overlapping, receding, Josefina clutched his lapels, pulling him still closer. The amount of desire he had—it felt like faith he placed in her, faith that she could provide what he wanted. That was a new sensation, and it frightened the devil out of her.
“Stop,” she gasped, the word muffled against his mouth.
Slowly he pulled back, lifting his head. His expression—lust, need, arousal—burned into her. Just as swiftly, though, it was gone behind his mask of calm command. And it was a mask, she realized. With what roiled inside him, she was amazed he could fool anyone, much less everyone. What could he tell about her, from the way she clung to him?
“Apologies,” he muttered, moving back another step.
“That’s quite—”
He turned on his heel and strode off into the dark depths of the alley.
She felt cold. Bereft and insulted. “You owe me a waltz,” she called in his general direction, though she couldn’t see him in the gloom.
“You’ll have it,” his voice returned, clipped and toneless.
Josefina stood for a moment in the dark. As the night sounds of London crept closer around her like a not quite comfortable cloak, she pulled open the door and returned inside alone. Her father wanted to see her wed to Melbourne. For the first time she considered what making such a union would mean to Sebastian Griffin. He was not a man who had to marry. If he wed again, it would be because someone could answer the deep…need…in him. If that person was her, God forgive her if she betrayed it or proved herself false or unable to live up to it—because the Duke of Melbourne would have no mercy at all.
Chapter 6
“How do you mean, ‘odd’?” Eleanor, Lady Deverill asked, shading her eyes to look at her husband pacing beside the daffodils. With her other hand she scooped their five-month-old daughter, Rose, back onto the blanket and away from the butterfly she was attempting to eat.
“I’m not certain,” Valentine returned, the unaccustomed hesitation in his voice as troubling as what he was attempting to say. “I would say he seemed…confused.”
“Sit down here before you blind me,” she said, patting the blanket beside her. “And tell me how my brother seemed confused. Last night was Almack’s. I would equate that with boredom, rather than confusion.”
Her husband sank onto the blanket beside her, absently lifting Rose onto his lap to twiddle his fingers at her. “I am painfully aware of that, believe you me.” He drew a breath, as thoughtful and concerned as she’d ever seen him. “He asked me to join him so I could ‘observe with my usual cynicism,’ or so he said. The Costa Habichuela people were polite and eager to make a good impression, as anyone coming to London in search of funds and support would be. But the chit…”
“You’re referring to Princess Josefina, I presume? The one who slapped my brother in public?”
“Put your knives away, my heart.” Valentine leaned sideways and kissed her in that soft, sensual way that made her glad she was sitting down. “He looks at her when she’s not looking at him, but to her face he either argues, or is so formal he’s almost rude.”
Her breath caught. “He likes her. Good heavens.”
“That’s what I thought, as soon as he admitted that she annoys him. But…” Valentine lifted Rose to look her in the eye. “You are staying away from men, my sugar cake. Men are evil, wicked, and devious. I know this, because I am one.”
Rose laughed, grabbing her father’s handsome nose.
“Oh, you think it’s funny now. Just you wait.”
“Valentine, you’re changing the subject.”
He stood, holding Rose in one arm and pulling Eleanor to her feet with the other. “You should go talk to him. You’re a chit and his sister, so he might converse with you about things he won’t with me.”
Nell smiled, leaning up against his arm to kiss him again. “Look at you, caring about other people. And holding a baby.”
“Yes, I’m doomed. Go. Rose and I will discuss the merits of celibacy.”
With a fond look back at her husband and daughter, Eleanor went inside Corbett House to call for a coach and to change clothes. The odds were very small that her oldest brother would confide in her, but if Sebastian’s behavior had cynical Valentine troubled, it was something she needed to look into.
Four years ago when Charlotte had wasted away and died, Sebastian had asked her to stay on at Griffin House instead of moving in with their Aunt Tremaine for her debut London Season. He’d asked Charlemagne and Zachary to abandon their bachelor apartments and return home, as well. They’d all done so without hesitation, but now all of them had left again, married and happy and pursuing their own lives.
Was Sebastian considering moving forward as well? She hoped so with all her heart. On the other hand, he’d only known this Princess Josefina for what, four days? Three? She definitely needed to find out what the devil was going on. Immediately.
“Would you care for another biscuit, Your Grace?”
Sebastian looked up from the Costa Habichuela prospectus and recrossed his ankles to ease the ache in his hip. Sitting in the tiny chair in Peep’s playroom was well and good for a petite seven-year-old girl, but he was two inches over six feet. “That would be splendid, Lady Penelope.”
She set one of the treats onto his china plate. “You know, I am so glad you allowed me to go see the acrobats last night. I think I could be an acrobat. Or a juggler.”
He nodded. “Juggling could be an asset to your piracy career.”
“That was my thinking.” She poured herself another cup of lemonade from the miniature teapot. “I had hoped to have more time to talk with that princess, you know.”
Sebastian hid the shiver that ran through his muscles. “Did you like her?”
“Well, she played the pianoforte well, and she told a funny story about going shopping in Jamaica. But she did insult you. If I’d known that you didn’t like her, I wouldn’t have been so polite.”
“Ah. It wasn’t that I don’t like her,” he countered, wondering why he was defending Josefina. “It was just that her being here wasn’t appropriate.”
“I understand,” Peep said, nodding. “But I hope you realize that even though you get to see Prinny and other royal people all the time, I don’t.”
“My apologies, then. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The playroom door swung open. “Good afternoon,” Zachary said, sketching a deep, formal bow. “I heard that Lady Penelope was holding a tea. May I join you?”
Peep stood, curtsying. “Of course, Lord Zachary. Do take a seat.”
Zachary headed toward one of the adult-sized chairs at the side of the room. “A seat at the table,” Sebastian instructed, flipping a page of the prospectus.
“I was only taking off my jacket,” his youngest brother said, removing his gray jacket to expose his black waistcoat. Returning to the middle of the room, he gingerly sank onto one of the four remaining children’s chairs.
“You’ll do anything for a biscuit, won’t you?” Sebastian observed.
“Apparently.”
Peep served more lemonade and biscuits while Sebastian resumed his perusal of the book. The detail amazed him—variations in climate according to elevation, with a huge portion of the text devoted to, basically, how a new arrival in the country might go about making a comfortable living. Both town occupations and farming were covered thoroughly. Parts of it sounded both familiar and deathly dull, but he couldn’t count the number of the damned things he’d read over the years.
“You went to Almack’s last night, I heard,” Zachary said abruptl
y.
Looking up, Sebastian took a sip of lemonade. “I did.”
“And Prinny made an appearance?”
“For about twenty minutes or so. I believe he and Lady Jersey are on the outs. Why do you ask?”
“Just making conversation.” Zach devoured a biscuit. “You escorted the Costa Habiba people again.”
“Costa Habichuela,” Peep enunciated. “It’s in Central America.”
“Yes, I did,” Sebastian answered again. “Are you taking a survey?”
“No.” Zachary laughed, the sound strained. “Of course not.”
“I wish you had brought Harold today,” Peep said, sighing. “He likes biscuits.”
Sebastian set the prospectus aside. “That dog is not welcome in this house.”
“Just because I named him after Great-grandfather? That’s a bit—”
“Because you named him after me, Zach. As in Sebastian Harold Griffin. When I suggested you prove your capacity for responsibility by getting a dog, that was a jest.”
“But Harold’s a good dog,” his daughter chimed in again.
“He would be as good a dog if his name was Foxy or Royal or something.”
Zach’s grin was easier this time. “It actually does bother you that I named him Harold, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does.” As if he’d ever made any secret of that.
“Good. It was meant to.”
“Gentlemen, please,” Peep put in, placing a hand on each of their shoulders, “let’s be civil.”
The playroom door opened again. “What are we not being civil about?” Shay asked.
Penelope stood again. “Lord Charlemagne, how delightful! Please join us for tea.”
With a glance between them and the full-sized chairs, Shay lowered himself into one of the miniatures. “When we did this with Nell, I don’t remember the chairs being so small.”
“That was fifteen years ago,” Zachary pointed out. “We were smaller.”
If anyone outside their circle ever spotted the three large Griffin males hunkered down at a miniature table for a tea party, no one would fear them any longer. Sebastian eyed the sibling closest in age and temperament to himself. “What brings you here?”
“Just visiting. I had no idea there would be tea—” he took a sip from the undersized cup Peep handed him and made a face “—lemonade, I mean, and biscuits.”
As Sebastian watched, his brothers looked at each other, neither seeming terribly pleased at his sibling’s presence. Hm. “Are you joining us at the Beardsley recital tonight, Shay?”
“No. Sarala’s parents have invited us for dinner.” He cleared his throat. “I think they’re hoping to hear…news,” he continued, glancing at his niece.
Startled, Sebastian sat forward, nearly dumping himself out of the tiny chair. “And is there…news?”
Shay’s face reddened. “I am not prepared to confirm or deny anything at this moment. In another week or so, perhaps.”
“Is Aunt Sarala going to have a baby?” Peep asked, giving a scowl and folding her arms across her chest. “You can tell me such things, you know. I’m not six.”
“We should know in a few days,” Shay said, taking Peep’s hand. “You will be the first to hear, one way or the other.”
“It seems as though you should have decided something that important already, but very well.”
Sebastian looked down at his cup of lemonade. He’d made certain that Penelope would be extremely well-off for her entire life, but he couldn’t do anything about his title. With no son of his own, upon his death it would go to his nearest male relation—Shay. If Sarala was with child, and if the babe was male, the Griffin name would continue with the Melbourne title for at least another generation. Thank God.
“Seb?”
Shaking himself, he looked up. “Yes?”
“How was Almack’s last evening?” Shay asked, then winced as Zachary kicked him in the foot. The low table bounced. “Very subtle, nick ninny.”
“What did you two hear?” Sebastian demanded.
“Nothing,” Shay said hastily. “It was the first large public introduction of the rey and his party. I just wondered how it went.”
“It went well. Perfectly uneventf—”
The door opened again, and Eleanor stepped into the room. “Hello, everyone,” she said with an exasperated smile. “Don’t you boys look…imposing. Did I miss an invitation to a family meeting?”
“No, it’s a tea,” Penelope corrected. “Are you having another baby?”
Her face went white. “‘Another’? Sebastian, is Princess Josefina pr—”
“What?” He shot to his feet, the little chair toppling over backward behind him.
Zachary and Shay were right behind him. “You mean Melbourne and the princess are—”
“No!” he interrupted before Zach could finish. “Is that what this little invasion is about? For God’s sake, if that’s the rumor, why the bloody hell didn’t anyone say—”
“It’s not,” Nell said, hurrying forward to put a hand on his arm. “It’s not. Not at all. But when Peep said—”
“She was talking about Charlemagne and Sarala.”
“Oh. Oh.” She turned around and hugged Shay, who belatedly returned the embrace. “Congratulations, Shay.”
“It’s not certain yet. But why did you think Melbourne and the—”
“Enough!” Sebastian roared. “You two,” he ordered, gesturing at his brothers, “sit down and have tea with your niece. You,” he continued, taking Nell by the arm, “come with me.”
“May I have a look at this prospectus?” Shay asked as they strode for the door.
“Yes. Stay put.”
Ignoring the rest of the protests and commentary, he practically dragged Eleanor out of the playroom and shut the door behind them. He headed down the stairs and into his office, where he closed that door, as well.
“If you think you’re going to lecture me about gossip or something, you are sadly mistaken,” Nell said sharply, moving behind the desk and sitting in his chair. “And you certainly won’t do it from here, the way you used to. I am a married woman, not a child.”
Things had definitely changed over the past two years. “Will you be quiet for a moment?” he muttered. “I’m thinking.”
From her expression, she hadn’t expected that response. He didn’t give it often. And he would never have admitted he was unsure about anything to anyone—until now, apparently. Until bloody Josefina Embry had appeared in his life.
“Why would you come to the conclusion that I am—or was—having an affair with Princess Josefina, with whom, I might add, I’ve only been acquainted for four days?”
She grimaced. “You have to admit, walking into the room to see you sitting there like overstuffed midgets and then hearing ‘Are you having another baby’—it was a bit offputting. And you are the only other of us who has ‘another’ child.”
He nodded. “Very well. I’ll grant you that.” Slowly he walked to the window and back again. Whatever else he was, he remained the head of this family. As such, he was unused to having his actions questioned, and he disliked the idea that his family in particular might be doing so. “Zach and Shay are here asking about last night at Almack’s. Why?”
“Why don’t you ask them?”
“I did.” He moved forward again, taking one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk from his sister. “What did Valentine say that has you over here, as well? And don’t tell me to ask him, because you’re the one who decided you should be here.”
“He said that you appeared to be off-balance last night. And he thought that you might have an interest in Princess Josefina.”
“That rat. I asked him to observe them, not me.”
“Is it true, then?”
“Honestly,” he said, uneasy at even discussing it, “I don’t know. I’ve been alone for four years, and yes, I find her interesting. Whether it’s because of her or because of the four years, I’m not ce
rtain.”
“But it is her specifically, and not any or every lady you encounter.”
“I suppose so.”
“Then you should see more of her.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Thank you. Advice from a chit twelve years my junior.”
Nell smiled. “Now you sound like Melbourne again.”
“That’s the thing, Nell. I am Melbourne. I am not going to pursue the only offspring of a foreign king. If his country lasts past Michaelmas, if and when he dies, Josefina becomes rey or queen or whatever they decide the title should be. If it passes to her spouse, then that would make me the King of Costa Habichuela.” He forced a smile. “I prefer being an Englishman, and I won’t give up my title to be otherwise.”
“But Sebastian, if you like her, then—”
“Then what? Firstly, I said she interests me. I’m not certain whether I like her or wish to wring her neck. Secondly, I’ve known of her existence for four days. Thirdly, I don’t want to have an affair. I am not of a mind to pursue at all, especially when there’s no future in it.”
Slowly she stood. “Since you’ve thought it through from every angle, measured the logic and found it wanting, I suppose there’s no more to say.”
“I suppose not.” He rose as well, and opened the door for her. “Tell the halfwits, if you please, so they’ll stop pestering me, but do so away from Peep’s hearing. She doesn’t need to know any of this.”
“As you wish.” With a swish of her muslin skirts, she left the room.
Sebastian watched her up the stairs, then closed the door again and seated himself in the chair she’d vacated. Hopefully this nonsense would go no farther than his own family. And the best way to insure that would be to avoid Princess Josefina Embry at every opportunity, however much he looked forward to another argument—another kiss—with her. Sighing, he opened his desk and removed a sheet of paper. He needed to write a note to Prinny.
“Ready?” Lieutenant May asked, ducking his head back into the coach.
Josefina parted the curtains and peeked out. “Good heavens,” she breathed. “I had no idea the enterprise would be this popular.”
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