Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom

CHAPTER Twelve



The clergyman had finally made his good-byes and was being firmly escorted from the room by Dominic, his declarations of gratitude for Griffin’s generous donation toward the rebuilding of his church roof echoing behind him. Given the man’s tendency to gush, Griffin didn’t trust him to keep quiet about the rushed marriage, but Dominic had assured otherwise. Apparently, the good reverend owed Dominic a favor—as did half of London, it seemed—and had always been discreet in the past.

In any event, Griffin and Justine were now well and truly married, so any details that might leak could be denied as foolish gossip.

Griffin propped his shoulder against the marble surround of the fireplace in Dominic’s drawing room, watching his new bride make conversation with Lady Thornbury and Vivien St. George. There was no going back from this unexpected turn of events and, oddly enough, Griffin had yet to regret that fact. Perhaps that would come later when decisions would have to be made about their futures. But for now he could look forward to the one truly bright note in the entire farce—his wedding night, with his plump little partridge of a bride safely tucked up in his bed.

When he’d taken Justine’s trembling hand and sworn his vows before the minister, he’d been startled by the force of his desire for her. She’d stared up at him, all big blue eyes in a white face, the dusting of red freckles across her nose and cheeks standing out in stark relief. Her anxiety was palpable, manifesting itself in the rapid rise and fall of her generous breasts, prompting all kinds of lascivious thoughts in Griffin’s mind just as the minister delivered a solemn disquisition on the duties of matrimony. He could certainly think of one duty he’d like to perform, sooner rather than later, but he’d also been touched by her vulnerability.

He’d made a silent promise on the spot—one that had more meaning to him than the empty vows they’d just exchanged—that he would do his best never to injure her. Regardless of how long they were fated to be together, he’d never leave her without protection and financial standing. Justine was an innocent, much as his mother had once been before his father ruined her. Griffin could no more cast his new wife aside than he could return to the type of life he’d lived before running off to London all those years ago.

But, for however long they remained under the same roof, Griffin also had every intention of enjoying his bride. While he had never anticipated marriage figuring into his life, he was no fool. By any measure, Justine was a prize worth winning, and Griffin knew more about winning than any man in London.

“And how does it feel to be a married man, Cousin?” queried Aden St. George, strolling up to him with a goblet of champagne in each hand. “Trust you to take the unconventional route, as always. Marrying the daughter of Edward Brightmore—that’s a twist, even for you. I can’t wait to hear what the gossips make of this.” He punctuated his words with a gently mocking smile.

“Oh, that’s rich,” Griffin responded, “given the scandal you and Vivien created when you got married. I wasn’t the one who pummeled a mad Russian prince right in front of the ambassador and half the ton. Compared to that, Justine and I hardly merit a mention.”

Aden’s smile slid into a grin, obviously recalling the wild scene the night he’d rescued Lady Vivien Shaw from a forced engagement to Prince Ivan Khovansky, a wealthy and influential member of a powerful Russian family. Griffin and several of his men had been on hand that night as well, lending aid in the form of muscle. He’d been glad to help because he found Vivien a courageous and admirable woman deserving of a happy life.

But as far as Griffin was concerned, it would have been an enjoyable escapade if for no other reason than he’d helped destroy the reputation of one of the more repugnant versions of a species he most loved to hate—princes. Any time he had the opportunity to stick his thumb in the eye of royalty he was more than willing to do so.

“That’s not what I heard,” Aden replied. “Did the lovely Mrs. Steele really pull a pistol on Mulborne? I’m convinced Dominic had to be exaggerating on that little tidbit.”

Griffin mentally blinked at hearing Justine referred to as Mrs. Steele. That would take some getting used to.

“She did,” he said, plucking a glass from Aden’s hand. “She told me she would have fired it, too. She was that annoyed by the pig’s insulting manner.”

“Ah, so she is her father’s daughter, then. No wonder Dominic trusts her.”

Griffin frowned. He’d met Ned Brightmore a few times and knew from Dominic that he’d been one of the most daring agents in the Service. Some would say daring to the point of recklessness. If anything, Justine struck him as an excessively cautious woman intent on leading a quiet life that allowed her to fade into the background. But he supposed she did have elements of her father in her, given her foolishly courageous decision to protect Patience, destroying her own reputation in the process. That sounded exactly like something Brightmore would have done.

And then there was the impulsive kiss they’d shared last evening in his study. Her response to him at first had been shy and tentative, the kiss of an innocent. But something had quickly flared between them, promising of hidden depths of sensuality and passion. That had startled him as much as he suspected it had her.

His gaze drifted to Justine again. She was smiling now as she talked with Vivien and Lady Thornbury, Aden’s mother. Some of the color had returned to her fair complexion, and her bronze-burnished hair, gathered in a loose coiffure that allowed tempting tendrils to curl around her white neck, glowed in the soft light cast by the lamps. Her close-fitting, simple gray gown beautifully outlined her figure, more than hinting at the garden of delights encased in a petite but sweetly generous package.

But even more than the delight he took in imagining he was undressing her, Griffin enjoyed watching her face—the play of emotions across her pretty features and the sharp intelligence in her sapphire-blue eyes as they fastened on the other women. Justine had a tendency to keep both her thoughts and words to herself, but he harbored no doubt there was very little that escaped her perceptive gaze.


That pleased him a great deal, because if there was one thing he couldn’t abide, it was stupidity. Unlike many men he knew, he didn’t think a woman’s charms were enhanced by an empty head.

“Did you know her father well?” he asked Aden.

“Some. He was mostly before my time, although our paths did cross during the Peninsular campaign.”

Aden had spent the last several years in the Intelligence Service, after Dominic had recruited him from the Horse Guards. Aden was one of Dominic’s most trusted agents, a brilliant spy lethally effective in the most dangerous situations. He also happened to be the bastard son of the Prince Regent and one of the few relatives Griffin had anything to do with—not that the rest of his relations were lining up to spend time with him, anyway. Not unless they wanted to borrow money from him.

But Aden was different. Even though raised within the highest ranks of the aristocracy, he’d always been an outsider, like Griffin, and never fully accepted by the members of his own family. He’d dealt with the pain of rejection by walking away from his family and giving all his loyalty to Dominic and the Service. He’d lived in the shadows, risking all for King and country, with no intention of ever claiming a real position within polite society.

Until, that is, he’d met and married Lady Vivien Shaw. Now Aden had become so bloody respectable Griffin hardly recognized him.

“What was Brightmore like?” Griffin asked. “Justine hasn’t talked much about him, but I gather he was away from home a great deal.”

“That’s true. He lived for the job, enjoying it in a different way from the rest of us,” Aden said thoughtfully. “He seemed to find it all rather fun, as if risking one’s neck on a regular basis was a lark. It can’t have been easy on Justine or her brother, I would imagine.”

Griffin made a noncommittal grunt in reply, but Aden’s brief insight explained much about his new bride. Given how unsettled her life must have been, it was no wonder she craved security and a respectable, boring life. Unfortunately, Griffin doubted he’d ever be able to provide her with any true respectability, but at least she’d never be at the beck and call of old ladies or disapproving relations, or have to worry about scraping by from one day to the next. He knew the toll that kind of life could take and he’d never allow anything like that to happen to Justine.

Justine’s financial security had been the first thing on Dominic’s mind, too. The suspicious bastard had insisted on drawing up the marriage contracts himself, making sure Justine would always be well provided for no matter what happened to Griffin. In fact, Dominic had baldly threatened to hang, draw, and quarter him if he didn’t take care of Justine as she deserved.

Griffin had bristled, ready to continue the discussion with his fists, but the older man had simply given him a mocking grin and begged his apology for doubting his honor.

“Speak of the devil,” he muttered as Dominic came back into the room.

Aden cast him a curious glance, but turned to greet his chief with a smile. “All is well with the Reverend Tyler, I assume? He seems a most accommodating man, for a minister.”

Dominic nodded. “I’m confident there won’t be any problems on that end. He was so stunned by Griffin’s generosity that I doubt he gave a thought to the irregular nature of the proceedings.”

“Hardly surprising,” Griffin said. “He could buy ten new roofs for his blasted church with the blunt I signed over to him.”

“Ah, yes, but look at the prize you gained as a result,” Dominic replied.

“Christ, you’re getting sentimental in your old age,” Griffin retorted. “Are you sure you’re not going senile?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Dominic said, ignoring Aden’s snort of laughter. “I’m simply overcome with pride that both of you have married so well. It’s done a world of good for Aden, and I anticipate the same for you.”

Griffin took in the gleam in Dominic’s eyes. He’d seen that expression before and he’d heard the same tone in his voice, too. It meant that Dominic was trying to force him to do something he didn’t want to do.

“What, exactly, do you mean by that?” Griffin asked in a deceptively soft voice.

When Dominic and Aden exchanged a swift glance, he almost cursed out loud. His instincts rarely failed him, and right now they were pealing a bloody tower full of bells.

But before he could nip whatever it was Dominic was planning in the bud, Lady Thornbury floated over with her usual elegance and grace.

“Goodness,” she said, taking her son by the arm, “whatever are you men doing over here, hiding in the corner? We’re beginning to feel quite neglected.” She leveled a frown at Dominic. “I do hope you’re not discussing business, my dear. How utterly inappropriate for the occasion.”

Dominic laughed. “Nothing of the sort. In fact, I’ve ordered more champagne—ah, here it is now. We should be going in to lunch in a few minutes. But you are quite right. Our neglect of the ladies is shocking.”

He took Lady Thornbury’s hand from Aden’s arm and led her back across the room—after giving both Aden and Griffin a pointed look.

“You do realize he’s managing you,” Aden said.

“He’s trying,” Griffin replied, affecting a casual shrug. “He won’t get anywhere with it.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Aden said. “He did the same to me. Quite successfully, I might add.”

Before Griffin could come up with an appropriate retort, his cousin had also moved toward the group on the other side of the room. Griffin had no choice but to follow.

For some reason, his feet seemed to drag. As much as he enjoyed looking at Justine—and thinking about their impending wedding night—he felt a curious reluctance to join her and the others. He knew how rattled she was, and how she must be struggling to wear a good face in the light of the unwelcome and monumental changes in her life. Griffin could think of only one way to comfort her, and it didn’t involve much talking. He had the sense that if he got too close to her, she’d be able to see it in his eyes and feel it in his touch. And that would do little to reassure her, especially in this setting.

Sure enough, as he approached, he could read the tension in the strained look in her eyes and in the tightness in the line of her delicate jaw.

“There you are,” Vivien said gaily as he and Aden joined them. “Griffin, I have yet to congratulate you as a married man. Please allow me to make up for such a shocking omission.”

A vivacious blond beauty with a mind as sharp as anyone Griffin had ever met, Vivien came up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. Then she surprised him by giving him a brief hug.

“Welcome to the family, dear Griffin,” she whispered in his ear.

He was too startled to respond verbally so he simply gave her a flourishing, mocking bow as she stepped back. Griffin had his own family—the people who worked for him. He’d carefully gathered them over the years, trusting them as he trusted no one else. With the exception of Aden—and even with him there was still a reserve between them—Griffin had no desire to expand the circle, especially if that meant having any regular contact with the ton.

As he straightened back up, his gaze met Justine’s. Even though her eyes held a solemn expression, she was trying for a tentative smile. Its sweet vulnerability jolted him, and he realized all over again that he’d just added another person to his small circle.


His wife.

Beating back an upsurge of emotion, he forced a casual smile. “And how are you, my dear? Have you recovered yet from the shock of becoming Mrs. Griffin Steele?”

“From the look on her face,” Dominic commented in a dry tone, “I expect she hasn’t.”

“Can’t blame her if she never gets over it,” Aden said. “Wouldn’t blame her if she’d fainted dead away after she took her vows.”

Vivien pinched him while his mother launched into a little scold. Under cover of their voices and laughter, Griffin urged Justine a few steps away from the group with a simple touch on her elbow.

“I’m sorry if this is making you uncomfortable,” he said in a quiet voice. “We can leave now, if you like. There’s no reason to stay any longer.”

She gave him a grateful smile. “No, it’s fine. I certainly don’t want to be rude. Uncle Dominic has gone to a great deal of trouble to make this as easy as possible, and I know he’d be disappointed if we left before lunch. And I’m quite enjoying speaking with Lady Thornbury and Lady Vivien. I haven’t seen them in years, and I’d forgotten how nice they are.”

Griffin wasn’t fooled by her brightly babbling tone. “Something is clearly bothering you, my sweet, besides this bizarre little spectacle. What is it?”

“It’s nothing, really.” She cast an anxious glance in Lady Thornbury’s direction. “Well, yes, it is, actually. And I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

Christ.

He’d been right. Dominic was planning something, and it obviously involved Lady Thornbury and probably Aden and Vivien, too.

“Then I suppose you’d better tell me straight off what it is,” he said lightly.

She looked up at him, her pretty features pulled tight with worry. It was worry for him, apparently, and that touched him in a way he’d always thought ridiculously sentimental. Suddenly, he wished he could pull her into another room and kiss the little crinkles of worry from between her eyebrows, smoothing them away with his lips. Then he would move down from there, not stopping until he’d peeled every piece of clothing from her luscious body and tasted every inch of her skin.

She leaned into him a little, and he could smell the clean, talcum scent of her, mixed with a whiff of lemons. It reminded him of babies and warm kitchens on a blustery cold day, and he found it curiously pleasing.

“It’s Lady Thornbury and Lady Vivien,” she whispered dramatically. “They’re planning things.” From her tone, it sounded like they were planning an armed invasion.

“What sort of things?” he asked, glancing at Dominic. When he saw the calculating look on his erstwhile mentor’s face as he watched them, Griffin’s sense of foreboding took a sudden leap forward.

God, no. The old manipulator couldn’t possibly be thinking—

“Justine, my love, what are you and Griffin whispering about over there in the corner?” Lady Thornbury said in a gay voice, interrupting his thoughts. “The two of you will have plenty of time to sneak away into corners later. Right now we need to plan the party I’m going to give in your honor. There’s a great deal to be done before we can introduce you to the world as a married couple.”

Justine bit her lower lip as a sweet blush mounted her cheeks. Whether at the implication that they were whispering sweet nothings to each other or at the idea that they were to be publicly introduced as husband and wife, he couldn’t tell. At any other time, Griffin would have been highly interested in discovering the answer, but Lady Thornbury’s announcement seized his attention.

Taking Justine’s cold hand in his—her nerves were still getting the better of her—he drew her into the small circle waiting for them. When she cast him a troubled glance and parted her lips to speak, he gave her fingers a warning squeeze. She pressed her lips shut, and he gave her a swift, approving smile. In this matter, at least, they were true allies. Justine would want as little attention called to their marriage as he did.

“My dear lady,” Griffin answered in a bored drawl, “I assure you that a party in our honor is, while appreciated, entirely unnecessary.”

He drew Justine closer to his side. For a moment, she resisted, but then she capitulated. Griffin wasn’t afraid to admit he relished the feel of her soft, rounded body against his side.

“As I’m sure you can understand,” he continued, “I’m eager to have my wife all to myself, now and for the foreseeable future. Gallivanting about London is the last thing we want to do, isn’t it, my love?”

Her eyes narrowed, flashing cold fire at him and tempting him to laugh. Yes, she would no doubt make him suffer for this little performance later, but he would probably find that enjoyable, too.

“Quite,” she responded in a frosty tone. Griffin had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing.

“Please do not be a bigger fool than you already are, Griffin.” Dominic’s rasping voice cut through his amusement. “The party is a necessary step toward the rehabilitation of Justine’s reputation. And yours as well, I might add.”

Griffin froze, staring at the coolly determined look on Dominic’s face. Suddenly, all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. This had been Dominic’s plan all along.

He dropped Justine’s hand and crossed his arms across his chest. “Bloody hell, Dominic, you can forget that. I have absolutely no interest in your efforts to reform me, and you bloody well know it.”

Aden unleashed a sardonic grin at Dominic. “What did I tell you?”

Dominic ignored him, keeping his cold-as-crystal green gaze right on Griffin. “Yes, you have told me that, and more than once. But circumstances have changed, now, as you realize.”

Griffin just barely managed to choke back a truly foul oath—not in deference to the ladies but because Dominic had the right of it. He didn’t have just himself to think about now. But as far as he could tell, Justine was even less inclined than him to go through with some ridiculous farce introducing them to society. If they were successful in that mission, she would never gain an annulment.

“Uncle Dominic,” Justine said crisply, “I must agree with Mr. Steele. Neither of us has any desire to go about in public, or try to insinuate ourselves into society’s good graces. As experience has taught me, that is a waste of one’s energy.”

Her tone of disdain told Griffin everything he needed to know about Justine’s views of the ton. He was happy to realize that, in this matter at least, their interests fully coincided.

“In fact,” she added, “if we just leave well enough alone, I’m sure everyone will forget about us soon enough. But if we go out in public, it’s certain to create more gossip, not minimize it.”

Lady Thornbury took Justine’s hand, drawing her to sit on the elegant white and blue silk sofa set in front of the fireplace. The others followed her, Aden and Vivien sitting off to the side on a small, Grecian-style daybed, and Dominic across from the sofa in a matching armchair.

Griffin elected to remain standing, well apart from the group as he struggled to keep his fury under control. He knew he had a fight on his hands. Dominic had been trying for years to make him respectable, and only now did Griffin realize why the older man had seemed so eager to marry him off to Justine. Yes, it was necessary, given the circumstances that had led up to the decision, but Dominic had evinced a curious and quiet satisfaction in the proceedings that had left Griffin at a loss.


Now he knew why. Dominic had obviously convinced himself that marriage to Justine, coupled with the sale of the gambling clubs and brothel, would pave the way for Griffin to claim what Dominic always insisted on calling “his rightful place in society.” In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if Dominic had planned something like this all along, taking care of both Justine and Griffin in one fell swoop. Dominic had always displayed an exaggerated sense of responsibility, wearing his guilt about imaginary failings like a hair shirt. It was a distinctly annoying quality, especially when he applied it to Griffin.

Well, he had no intention of allowing a guilt-ridden, interfering old woman like Dominic to force him into an existence he would loathe. Griffin would rather hang himself than submit to life among the hypocrites and harridans of the Upper Ten Thousand.

“My dear girl,” Lady Thornbury began as she held Justine’s hand in a firm clasp, “surely you must realize the kinds of stories already circulating about you around town.” She cast a fleeting glance in Griffin’s direction. “I will not sully your ears, but I can assure you that they are quite distressing. One might even say . . . vulgar.”

Griffin hadn’t thought his anger could run any hotter. He was wrong. While he recognized the veracity of Lady Thornbury’s words, he resented the way she used them to pressure Justine. He was already aware of some of the stories and he fully intended to deal with the gossipmongers, but in his own time and manner.

Justine blinked several times, but to her credit she recovered her poise quickly. “That is, indeed, unfortunate, but I don’t really see that it matters. After all, we’re married now, and I enjoy the protection of Griffin’s name.”

Dominic shook his head. “Justine, marriage to Griffin was a necessary first step, but believe me when I tell you that his name alone is not enough to protect you from the sorts of insults you will encounter without the protection of your entire family. There’s a great deal of difference between being the wife of the notorious Griffin Steele, owner of brothels and gambling clubs, and the wife of a man who is fully accepted by both your families and all levels of polite society.”

“I can protect my wife,” Griffin snapped. “I don’t need you lot to do it for me.”

“I see,” Dominic said in a politely cool voice. “And does that mean you have given up on your plans to leave England? You will be remaining by Justine’s side to protect her from the attentions of those who will circle her as soon as you’re gone?”

The hot anger running through Griffin’s veins seemed to cool and congeal. Things had happened so quickly these last two days that he’d barely had time to think. Yes, his marriage to Justine would make her vulnerable to all the predators in the ton. They’d assume her little better than one of the whores at The Golden Tie, and act accordingly. And since he would be leaving England sometime in the next few months, she’d be unprotected unless she went with him.

“Then she could go live with her uncle,” he said abruptly. “Surely Viscount Curtis has enough standing in society to protect her.”

“I’ll do nothing of the sort,” Justine exclaimed. “This is all ridiculous. As soon as we find out where baby Stephen belongs, I will return to Lady Belgrave’s house, where I intend to live quietly.” She glanced at Griffin, her expression suddenly calculating. “In fact, Mr. Steele and I have already agreed on that.”

Griffin raised his eyebrows, but he wouldn’t gainsay her before the others.

Dominic began to look mulish, never a good sign. “I’m afraid not, my dear. I sent an express to Lady Belgrave the day before last explaining the situation. She feels that given your change in status, it’s best for you to remain in London with your husband.”

Justine went white around the lips.

“Dominic, I swear I will kill you some day,” Griffin snarled through clenched teeth.

Naturally, Dominic didn’t bother to respond. Vivien, however, cast a worried glance between the two of them before getting up to sit on the other side of Justine.

“Dearest,” she said, clasping Justine’s other hand, “it’s not just your reputation you have to think about, although of course that is the most important thing. It’s the rest of your family, too. There’s your brother to be thought of, and Viscount Curtis and your cousins, too. Imagine what all this ugly gossip would do to them.”

Justine pulled a trembling hand from Vivien’s grasp and held it to her forehead. It just about killed Griffin to stay where he was, rather than sweeping Justine into his arms and out of the room.

“It would kill my uncle,” his bride said in a tight voice. “He’s so high in the instep about this sort of thing, and his health hasn’t been the best in the last year.”

“I don’t imagine it will do your brother’s legal practice much good, either,” Dominic stated quietly.

“Believe me,” Aden interjected in a sympathetic voice, “facing it head-on is the only way. Once things die down, you can then take stock of your situation and make some decisions.”

“That’s right, my dear,” Lady Thornbury said in a coaxing voice. “There’s no need to decide every detail of your lives together—”

“Or apart,” Griffin interrupted in a grim voice, taking in the haunted look in Justine’s eyes. He knew she was feeling trapped, just as he was, but her distress clearly bordered on panic. Griffin might loathe the idea of life in the ton, but he was beginning to realize that he had no quarrel with having Justine in his life—either in the short or the long term. She clearly didn’t feel the same about him, though, and that bothered him more than he cared to admit.

“Yes, exactly,” Lady Thornbury said with an encouraging smile in Griffin’s direction, intentionally misunderstanding him. “Nothing about the future need be set in stone. But we do need to stop the gossip in its tracks and convince the ton that your marriage is both real and eminently respectable.”

“As you are eminently respectable, Justine,” Vivien chimed in.

Dominic leaned forward and took Justine’s hand, his craggy features softened by genuine affection. “Think of it as a short-term tactic rather than a long-term strategy. Once the gossip has died down and society has accepted you back into its arms, then you can decide what you want to do with the rest of your life.”

He looked at Griffin, silently asking for help. Griffin crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to manipulate Justine any more than she already had been. The decision had to be hers and hers alone. He would do whatever she wished, no matter how much he hated it. That much, at least, he could do for her.

Sighing, Dominic looked back at Justine. “Once we’ve gotten to the other side of this, I promise I’ll help you do whatever you want. But for now, I ask you to trust me.”

Halfheartedly, Justine tried to argue with him. But Griffin knew the battle had been lost the moment she realized her family would be deeply affected by her actions. For no matter how little regard she might have for herself or her security, Griffin had learned she would do just about anything to protect the people she loved.