Sins Of A Duke Part 12

"And me, Your Highness!" someone further back in the crowd yelled.

"Aye!"

"Aye! I'd trade shoveling horse s.h.i.t for sea breezes and good land any day!"

Everyone laughed. Goodness. She herself found London enchanting. It had never really occurred to her that anyone would be willing-much less eager-to trade a familiar life for an unknown one in an untamed, unseen land.

"Perhaps once we've had time to utilize the bank's generous loan, we might be able to formalize some sort of immigration agreement with England."

"Why wait?" someone else called. "I'd go in a fast tick!"

She laughed the comment off again. "I shall tell the rey," she repeated. As she spied a trio of ladies approaching, two of them familiar, she stood. "Lady Caroline, Lady Sarala," she said, inclining her head. "And this must be your sister, Lady Deverill."

The brunette marchioness curtsied, a shallow but respectful gesture that reminded Josefina of the woman's eldest brother. "I'm pleased to finally meet you, Your Highness," she said with a smile. "I feel as if I'm the last person in London to do so."

"Harek informs me that he's never seen the auctions this well attended before."

"Perhaps Your Highness would care to refresh yourself by joining us for luncheon?" Lady Deverill returned.

Thank heavens. "That would be acceptable," she said, trying not to sound too eager to escape. "Your Grace, I give you leave to see to that pair of bays you wanted to purchase."

Harek bowed. "My barouche is at your disposal, ladies."

"Thank you," the marchioness said with a smile that didn't meet her eyes, "but we have our own transportation. Your Highness, this way."

As they walked through the boisterous crowd, Conchita and Lieutenant May fell in behind them. In the company of the other three ladies, the addition of a maid and a guard seemed a bit gauche, and Josefina signaled Conchita to approach her.

"You and the lieutenant should return to Branbury House," she said.

"But Your High-"

"I'll be fine." She raised her voice. "Certainly one of these gracious ladies will be kind enough to return me home after our luncheon."

"Of course, Your Highness."

Conchita bobbed, her expression still dubious. "Very well. Lieutenant?"

With her servants gone, Josefina concentrated her attention on her companions. "Did Melbourne ask you to come by?" she asked, unable to keep her voice from sticking on his name. She hated the blasted man, and she hated the way she'd dreamed all night of his hands and his mouth caressing her. He thought he was so clever, to excite her and then accuse her of lying when she couldn't even remember what she'd said.

"Heavens no," Lady Deverill returned, stopping beside a large barouche with the yellow Deverill crest painted on the door panel. "Caro and Sarala have been talking about you, and I wanted to meet you."

"I'm pleased for that," Josefina returned, allowing the groomsman to hand her into the carriage, "because though my country can use the publicity of my presence, I have to admit that having so many people hanging on my every word is a bit...disconcerting."

"They all adore you," Lady Sarala commented with a warm smile, the trace of a foreign accent in her words.

"If I may ask, my lady, you're not from here, are you? London, I mean."

"I grew up in India," Lord Charlemagne's wife said. "And I must say, you've done a much better job at facing the ton of London than I did."

"My country's good will depends on it."

Lady Sarala nodded again. "Shay tells me that you had a sea of admirers at the theater last evening."

And only one with his mouth on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Josefina shook herself. These ladies were Griffins either by birth or by marriage, and last night Sebastian Griffin had called her a liar. It would be foolish to a.s.sume she'd been asked to luncheon purely out of friendship. "Everyone has been very gracious," she commented. "Our visit here has been fortuitous. And my father is so hopeful now for the future of Costa Habichuela."

"Do you mean to reside in Costa Habichuela yourself?" Lady Caroline sat beside her, while the other two ladies took the back-facing seat opposite.

"It is my home. Of course I mean to live there."

"Of course," Lady Deverill agreed hurriedly. "I think Caro only wondered if the rey might have you stay on in London to continue your efforts to raise funds and support for your country."

"My father spent so much time away from my mother and me that he has vowed we should never be separated again. He wanted me to travel to Scotland with him, but I insisted that I would be more useful here."

"Does he mean to secure additional loans there?"

"That is his intention, yes." She'd initially been against the attempt, but now she had to agree with his a.s.sessment that no time could be better for stirring up interest than the days immediately following a monarch's ceremonial arrival in a friendly country.

"I have to say," Lady Sarala added, "Shay has been fascinated by the prospectus you gave Melbourne. I can scarcely get him to put it aside each evening."

"I'm gratified that he finds it interesting. Costa Habichuela is a remarkable place."

"From what I heard a few minutes ago, a great many Britons are anxious to experience it firsthand." Lady Deverill gazed at her with eyes the same color as her brother's, though the marchioness's were much warmer and more friendly than those of Melbourne. "Have you considered opening Costa Habichuela to immigration?"

"I believe the rey wants to a.s.sess the economic impact of additional citizens and farmed land before he makes a decision."

"A very sound approach," Lady Sarala agreed. "Economics is a bit of a hobby of mine."

Wonderful. All she needed today were more questions she didn't feel prepared to answer.

"I have to ask," Lady Deverill put in with the timing of a clock, "why in the world did you slap Melbourne? I don't think anyone's ever had the courage to do that before."

"He sent a coach for me when he'd promised to appear and escort me himself. It might have tarnished everyone's first impression of me, and thereby of my country."

"So it was only because of the possible harm to your country?"

Josefina grimaced. The truth didn't seem as though it could cause any damage. "Well, I think any woman would be hurt upon realizing that a very handsome man who'd offered an escort hadn't bothered to appear. And I have to say, he continues to be quite arrogant and speak very rudely to me. I don't understand why, when he seems to be unfailingly polite to everyone else who crosses his path."

Eleanor gazed at their new companion for a moment. She'd been about to say that the three of them had also experienced Sebastian's foul temper, but stopped herself. "Melbourne is rather famous for being inscrutable," she said instead.

In fact, her oldest brother was only less than polite to a very small and select group of people-the ones who engaged his emotions. If he was rude to Princess Josefina, and continued to be so, then it meant something.

"'Inscrutable'?" The princess smiled, though the expression seemed a bit forced. "Since you're his family, I won't embellish the description."

"You are a true diplomat, Your Highness," Caro observed, and they all laughed.

Something large moved up beside the barouche. Eleanor glanced sideways. A large, gleaming black coach loomed there, a scarlet griffin on the door. Blast it all.

She raised her eyes to the ma.s.sive coach's window. With the curtains pulled aside, Sebastian was easy to make out. He looked straight back at her, his usually inscrutable expression highly annoyed. Inwardly she cringed.

Yes, she'd decided to become acquainted with Princess Josefina Embry. And yes, that did most likely qualify as meddling. After the way he'd attempted to manipulate the lives of herself and her brothers, Sebastian deserved to be meddled with. What she absolutely hadn't counted on, however, was being found out so soon.

"Oh, dear," Caroline whispered. "He does not look happy."

Though she held her breath herself, Eleanor offered a rea.s.suring smile. "He can be annoyed as he pleases. The Duke of Melbourne is not going to force us off the street." Not with witnesses about, anyway. She waved her fingers at her eldest brother.

"Nell, don't make him any angrier," Sarala cautioned in a hushed voice.

After another moment driving parallel with them, Sebastian rapped on the roof of the coach. Immediately the vehicle turned away down the next cross street. Eleanor let out her breath. Thank goodness.

"I apologize if my being here has caused you some difficulty," Her Highness contributed abruptly. "I know Melbourne is not fond of me."

"Nonsense. He's not fond of anyone. Don't take it to heart."

The princess smiled. "Thank you, Lady Deverill."

"Call me Eleanor."

For a moment Princess Josefina looked as though she wanted to say something more, but instead turned the conversation to the weather. Eleanor studied her face, her expression. Her brother was infamously difficult to decipher, and this woman didn't look to be much easier. Unless she was greatly mistaken, though, Princess Josefina found Sebastian at least as interesting as he found her.

Sebastian looked up from the newspaper after his fourth attempt to read the same sentence. "What are you doing?"

At his elbow Peep sat in front of her own large plate of breakfast. She wasn't eating, however. Rather, she adjusted a spoon across a knife and aimed it toward her cup of tea. A large sugar lump sat in the bowl of the spoon.

"Watch. I think I have it this time." With her curled fist she smacked down the raised end of the spoon. The lump of sugar catapulted into the air past her cup and thudded into the back of his newspaper. Again. "Drat."

"Don't hit it so hard," he advised, and went back to reading.

According to the London Times, yesterday Princess Josefina Embry of Costa Habichuela had graced Carlton House with her presence, sharing luncheon with Prinny and the Duke of Harek. The day before she'd journeyed to Greenwich for a tour of a Royal Navy ship. Londoners of all stations were mad for her, with girls throwing rose petals at her feet, and men handing her letters proposing marriage. Every citizen with a spare shilling seemed to be rushing to invest in "Englandshire," as the public had begun referring to Costa Habichuela.

"Balderdash," he muttered under his breath.

"What, Papa?"

"Nothing, sweetling. I was just reading about Princess Josefina."

"The Aunties took her to luncheon a few days ago," his daughter commented, as another object hit the back of his newspaper. "They didn't invite me."

He wished they hadn't invited Josefina. All he had against Costa Habichuela, though, were some unverified suspicions, a nagging sense of wrongness, and a feeling of frustration so great it was very likely the cause of the other difficulties. "Perhaps next time," he said.

"I certainly hope so."

Sebastian lowered the paper again. "You know that your Aunt Caroline's family is arriving in London tomorrow. You'll want to spend time with them."

"Yes, but they aren't princesses."

"I'm sorry, Penelope, but there's nothing I can do about that."

"You didn't have to resign your post."

"Yes, I did."

"Why, because you're too busy? You haven't even gone out for the past two nights. You stayed here and played pickup-sticks with me, and you've been in a very bad mood."

"I have not. And you're the one who said you wanted me about more."

"Mary Haley says you asked the princess to marry you, and she said no because you're only a duke, and that's why you had to resign."

He folded the paper and set it aside. "Does she now? I'm beginning to think that Mary Haley is a gossiping busybody, and that you spend entirely too much time in her com-"

The breakfast room door swung open. "I hoped you'd still be here," Shay said, a stack of books gathered in his arms.

Peep stood. "Mary Haley is not a gossip. She's my friend, and that's why she tells me things I should know. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go feed the ducks in the park." She stomped out the door.

He could hear her clomping all the way upstairs and then the slam of her bed chamber door. "Blast it."

"Did I interrupt something?" Shay dumped his load of books on the breakfast table.

"Just a difference of opinion." He gestured at one of the footmen who stood in the room. "Tom, go make certain Mrs. Beacham is accompanying Lady Penelope when she leaves the house."

"Right away, Your Grace." The servant hurried out of the room.

"All right, what is it, Shay?"

Without asking whether he'd finished eating or not, Charlemagne pushed all of the dishes away from the head of the table and seated himself opposite where Peep had been. That done, his younger brother dragged the half dozen books within reach.

"Take a look at this," he said.

"It's the Costa Habichuela prospectus."

"Yes, and no."

Sebastian sat up straighter. "What do you mean?"

Shay flipped the book open and turned pages until he found the one he wanted. "Read that aloud," he said, opening one of the other books for himself.

"'While one would think its proximity to the equator would render the climate disagreeably hot and stifling all the year round, Costa Habichuela is blessed with a large expanse of-'"

"'-of coastline which each afternoon delivers a soft, cooling breeze straight off the Atlantic Ocean,'" Shay took over. "'This breeze has the effect of both renewing and rejuvenating the populace, and also of bringing trade from distant sh.o.r.es, a topic which will be discussed in depth later herein.'"

"And?" Sebastian prompted.

Shay lifted an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'and'?"

"You got hold of another prospectus. I don't need a lesson in oral recitation."

"Yes, I did get hold of another prospectus. Or rather, I already had one."

"Shay, I know you're brilliant, but I do have Parliam-"