Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom

CHAPTER Fourteen



Justine stared moodily at her plate, resisting the urge to glare at her husband at the other end of the polished dining room table. He was engaged in an animated conversation with her cousin, Serena, Lady Danforth. Serena—one of Justine’s least favorite persons—was a tall, slender beauty with smooth golden hair that always did exactly what it was told to do. She was also married to one of the most boring men in London, one who barely noticed her and didn’t give a fig that his wife carried on any number of flirtations—if not worse—with the ton’s most disreputable men.

Exactly the kind of woman to spark Griffin’s sexual interest, apparently.

“Justine, my dear, I don’t believe you’ve been listening to me,” her uncle said with quiet reproof. “I don’t know where your manners have gone missing this evening. It is most unlike you.”

With a guilty start, she flashed her uncle an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, Uncle William. I am a bit distracted but that’s no excuse for bad manners.”

Her uncle, seated in the place of honor at the head of the table, across from their hostess, Lady Thornbury, inspected her with grave concern.

“I suppose it’s to be expected,” he said in a low voice. “I was never more shocked than when you wrote to me to inform me of your marriage. I can only be grateful that your dear aunt and grandfather are no longer with us to see the unhappy result of your reckless behavior. Really, my dear, what were you thinking?”

If that was her uncle’s idea of making her feel better, he might as well stick her in a pot of boiling oil and get it over with.

“I don’t believe I had a choice, sir,” she tried to explain for what seemed the umpteenth time. She did truly love her uncle, who had always been the soul of kindness to her, but he tended to be a tad dense at times and as high in the instep as his father had been. “Under the circumstances, accepting Mr. Steele’s offer of marriage seemed the only acceptable course of action open to me.”

Uncle William rested his knife and fork across his empty plate with careful precision. “I do not fault you for accepting his offer of marriage, Justine. There was no other course of action and I am indeed grateful that Mr. Steele seems to possess at least some small remnant of respectability. What disturbed me was your initial decision to take up a position in his household. Not only was that exceedingly foolhardy, it was well beneath your notice.”

Justine could barely hold back a wince. Under her present situation, she could hardly argue with her uncle’s logic. “I did it for Sir Dominic, you see,” she said. “He needed my help.”

By the look on her uncle’s face, she might as well have waved a red cloth in front of a bull.

“I have always held it as a great misfortune that Sir Dominic has such an influence over you,” her uncle said in a frosty voice. “I am convinced he was at fault for my dear brother’s unfortunate career, which ultimately led to his death. Edward was a reckless young boy, but I’m sure he would have eventually come round if he hadn’t fallen under Sir Dominic’s influence. Your grandfather never approved of him, either.”

Justine stifled a sigh, nodding as one of the footmen took away her plate. There was no point in trying to convince Uncle William that her father’s duties in the Service had focused his reckless energy, guiding it into a useful path that allowed him to utilize his quick wits and restless intelligence. And even though he died too soon, Justine was convinced that without Dominic’s guidance, her father would have come to a bad end at a much earlier age, perishing in a foolish carriage race or losing every penny he had at the gaming tables.

“Ah, well,” her uncle said after he’d helped himself from the platter of goose as the next course was served, “I suppose we’ll simply have to muddle through. Between my patronage and Lady Thornbury’s kind offices, we should be able to beat back the worst of the gossip. Mr. Steele’s history is most unfortunate but, after all, he does come from the highest family in the land. And Captain St. George did tell me that Mr. Steele is quite in the Prince Regent’s good graces, which is something, I suppose.”


Justine didn’t know what that something was, since the only reason the Regent even acknowledged Griffin was because he owed him a considerable sum of money. Still, she could appreciate Aden’s attempt to smooth her uncle’s ruffled feathers, even though Aden was at this very moment sitting to her right, trying not to laugh. He’d clearly been listening in on their conversation, which was just the sort of conduct one could expect from a spy. Justine had every intention of having a word with him about his inappropriate amusement and his eavesdropping as soon as she had a chance.

“And,” her uncle added in a brighter voice, “you must be pleased to see Serena taking such an interest in Mr. Steele. Serena is quite one of the most popular hostesses of the ton. You can be sure that if she gives your new husband her approval, many others will follow.”

Uncle William beamed down the table at his eldest daughter, sitting so close to Griffin that she was practically in his lap. If Justine knew Serena, she probably had her hand on his thigh, too. And from the look on Griffin’s face—his lips curved in a lazy, amused smile—he was enjoying every minute of her cousin’s cloying attentions. It was all Justine could do not to stand up, grab one of the heavy Wedgwood candlesticks in front of her, and lob it at her husband’s head.

Fortunately, Lady Thornbury smoothly inserted herself into the conversation, capturing Griffin’s attention away from a pouting Serena. Justine breathed a sigh of relief to see her husband shift his undivided interest to his hostess. Griffin clearly enjoyed flouting the rules of social convention. But he just as clearly knew how to employ them, and had the decency to behave like a gentleman to Lady Thornbury who’d done everything she could to make this evening a success.

“Having fun?” Aden murmured to her when her uncle turned his attention to his other seatmate.

“You have no idea,” Justine replied in a dry voice.

Aden briefly glanced down the table in Griffin’s direction. “All in all, I think it’s going rather well. My cousin hasn’t insulted anyone or made any lewd jokes, though I can tell he’s itching to do so. You must be a good influence on him.”

She sighed. “I doubt it.”

As far as Justine was concerned, the evening couldn’t end soon enough. It had followed a few extremely tense days in the Steele household, the result of her unwelcome wedding night questions regarding Griffin’s family. After he’d stalked out of her room, she hadn’t seen him until the next afternoon when he’d marched into the drawing room where she and Vivien St. George were having a quiet visit. With barely a nod in Vivien’s direction, he announced that he intended to hire an additional nurse for Stephen. When Justine objected, saying she was perfectly capable of taking care of one little baby, he’d barked out that he would not tolerate his wife scuttling around the house like a servant.

Griffin had followed up that nonsense by instructing her to visit a dressmaker to order a wardrobe appropriate to her new status. That, naturally, had led to another argument, culminating with him stalking out of the room and Justine thinking about bashing him over the head with the teapot. That she could wish to behave so uncharacteristically led to only one conclusion—either she possessed more of her father’s temperament than she’d ever imagined, or Griffin was driving her insane.

Once Justine had wrestled her temper under control, Vivien had managed to convince her that she did need a new dress for tonight’s dinner party. Reluctantly, Justine had agreed, and Vivien had borne her away for a hasty fitting at one of the most fashionable shops in London.

When the dress arrived late this afternoon, Justine had been forced to silently admit that it was lovely. It was a shimmering, pale green satin in a fairly modest but flattering cut, trimmed with blond lace on the bodice and hem and tiny yellow fabric leaves scattered on the soft skirt. Griffin had clearly approved, his eyes sparking with heat as she descended the staircase to the entrance hall, pulling on her matching green kid gloves.

Of course, he’d then ruined the moment by ordering her back upstairs to remove the barely noticeable lace cap on her head. To avoid a fight in front of the servants, she’d complied, but evened the score by refusing to speak in the carriage on the way over. He hadn’t seemed to care a jot, leaving her to ruminate on the fact that her manners had taken a perilous turn for the worse since she’d fallen under his sphere of influence.

Fortunately, they’d managed to behave themselves at Lady Thornbury’s town house. Griffin had been surprisingly charming and compliant when introduced to her family and the select group of friends Lady Thornbury had invited.

Griffin had even refrained from snapping when Uncle William lamented their hasty marriage and Justine’s uncharacteristically reckless behavior. Her new husband’s eyes had narrowed, but Serena had intervened, carrying him off to introduce him to some of the other guests. Though Lady Thornbury had raised her eyebrows over Serena’s fulsome attentions, Justine could only be grateful that a crisis had been averted. She’d then turned her attention to soothing her uncle’s offended sensibilities, grateful for once to her odious cousin for keeping Griffin amused.

Well, she’d been grateful for a few minutes at least until she realized that Serena intended to monopolize Griffin, something he didn’t seem to mind at all. Justine shouldn’t care either, except for the fact that her blasted husband was supposed to be helping rehabilitate her reputation—and his, for that matter. How he sought to accomplish that by engaging in a vulgar flirtation, with his wife’s cousin no less, Justine was at a loss to understand.

Lady Thornbury finally brought the gruesome dinner to an end. “Ladies, shall we leave the gentlemen to their port?”

As the ladies rose to their feet in a rustling of expensive silks and muslins, Justine watched Serena turn and murmur something to Griffin as he stood politely behind her, holding out her chair. Whatever it was made him laugh. Justine jerked her gaze away, all too aware of an acidic resentment burning through her veins. As unbelievable as it was, she was apparently jealous of Griffin’s attention to her odious cousin.

“It’s only for show,” Aden said quietly as he helped Justine with her chair.

She stared at him, feeling blank. “What do you mean?”

He nodded in Griffin’s direction. “My cousin’s lamentable behavior with your cousin. He’s only acting like that because he’s uncomfortable. At this point, I suspect he’s ready to run shrieking from the house and into the street, as if rats were crawling up his backside.”

That forced a choked laugh from her throat. “He doesn’t look the least bit discomposed.”

Aden nodded. “I know, but appearances can be deceiving, as I think you realize better than anyone.”

She did, but she felt too twisted up to say anything coherent, so she simply gave him a grateful smile and followed the other ladies.

As she passed the head of the table, Justine glanced at her husband, and his gaze bore into her, intent and mocking. When she lifted her chin in defiance, he broke into a grin and lifted his wineglass to her in salute.

Drat the man.

Finally admitting defeat—for now—Justine hurried from the room.





Griffin stretched out his legs, trying to make himself comfortable in the intimate confines of his luxurious town coach. He’d told his coachman to take the long way around to Jermyn Street. Even so, he doubted it would be long enough to manage Justine’s fit of temper. But if he waited until they got home she’d just disappear into her bedroom again like she did every time he came near her.


He couldn’t truly blame her, given how he’d bitten her head off on their wedding night. But she’d surprised him, not only by her questions about his parentage but by her kind response that resembled nothing so much as pity. That had made his skin crawl. He wanted many things from Justine—first and foremost, getting her into his bed where she belonged—but pity wasn’t one of them.

“You looked very pretty tonight, my sweet, and you didn’t even need your silly little cap,” he said in a teasing voice.

In the dim light of the carriage lamps, he saw her eyes narrow to irate slits. Griffin suspected that she had a lively sense of humor when she relaxed enough to let it surface, but not about her caps.

He cast about in his head for something innocuous to say, something to remind her that he wasn’t some evil brute intent on ruining her because that was how she seemed to be regarding him these days. Again, his fault, he supposed, since his dramatic announcement that he was as vile as his father and uncles. Griffin would never pretend to be something other than what he was, but his royal relations—at least the men—were a truly repellent, amoral breed.

Griffin might fall into the amoral category on occasion, but repellent? He hoped not. Not only were those sorts of aristocratic excesses of behavior bad for business, they made him recoil on an instinctive level. On most days, he could convince himself that he’d left every remnant of his boyhood behind, but he knew that to be a lie. Those years spent in an isolated parsonage in North Yorkshire, under the thumb of his rigorously moral uncle, had left their mark no matter how much he denied it. Griffin might be capable of many things, but certainly not harming women and children.

Unfortunately, his mind was still drawing a blank when it came to conversation starters with his own wife, perhaps because he wasn’t used to the alteration in their relationship. Justine was probably feeling the same way, so it might work to remind her of that.

“You must have found it strange to be introduced to your relatives as my wife,” he said. “It had to be somewhat unnerving.”

She grabbed onto the strap as they rounded the corner. Not that she seemed to need it since her posture resembled that of a lamppost.

“You have no idea,” she replied in blighting voice.

Griffin’s temper began to stir. He’d put up with her cool behavior in Lady Thornbury’s drawing room after the men had joined the ladies, assuming it was caused by irritation with her cousin. Lady Serena might be rich, beautiful, and a popular hostess of the ton, but she was also a vulgar flirt. Griffin didn’t generally mind a flirtation of that sort now and then, and at least Serena had spoken with him. Most of the other guests had avoided him, either from nervousness—as if they expected him to pull out a deck of cards and begin fleecing them—or from disdain, which had surely been the case with Justine’s uncle. The evening had been as bad as he’d imagined it would be, compounded by the fact that his sweet, gentle wife had spent a good part of the night throwing daggers at him with her eyes. The married state, it would appear, was having a less than beneficial effect on Justine’s temperament.

All the more reason to get her into bed, and this very night, if possible. As far as Griffin was concerned, nothing could top a good shagging for calming one’s nerves.

“Did you have a pleasant conversation with your uncle during dinner?” he asked in a polite voice. “You seemed to be much engaged.”

“As did you with your dinner companion,” she retorted, glaring at him. “You and Serena seemed to be having a splendid time.”

Ah.

So, that was the problem. Apparently Justine was suffering from a jealous fit. Still, Griffin wasn’t fool enough to assume that his wife was motivated by any tender feelings she might have developed for him. Even an idiot could see that she and Lady Serena loathed each other. As much as he could wish that Justine harbored some emotion for him other than a rampant desire to bash him over the head, he suspected her behavior had more to do with a competitive instinct than anything else.

“She was very welcoming,” he mused. “And she voiced an ardent desire for me to call on her at any time. Of course, that invitation was extended to you, as well.”

“I doubt very much that Serena wants anything to do with me, except to tease me about one thing or another,” she said in a tight voice. “But you’re more than welcome to call on her whenever you wish. I’m sure it’s no business of mine.”

Griffin sighed. “Justine, don’t be such a wet goose. Of course I’m not going to call on your cousin by myself. Why in blazes would I want to do that?”

“I should think it was obvious by your conduct. And hers, for that matter.”

That startled him, since he’d considered his behavior to be fairly restrained under the circumstances. “I assure you, darling, that if you thought I was engaged in some kind of desperate flirtation with your cousin, you’re mistaken. When I flirt with a woman, you will surely know it, as will Serena.”

Unfortunately, that didn’t come out exactly as he intended and her outraged gasp told him how far off the mark his comment was. It made Griffin wonder exactly when he’d begun to lose his ability to manage women, something that used to come to him so effortlessly. In fact, he’d always had more women at his beck and call than he knew what to do with.

Then Justine had come along and changed everything. It was enough to drive a sane man demented.

She jerked back the window shade and peered into the darkness. “Whatever is taking so long to get home? We should have arrived ages ago.”

A miserable little sniff followed on the heels of her words, one that went straight to Griffin’s heart. Moving carefully so as not to startle her, he slipped onto the bench beside her. She edged farther into her corner.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a suspicious voice.

He took her tightly gloved hand in his. She tried to resist, but he kept her captured in a gentle but unrelenting grip. “I’m sitting next to my wife. What do you think I’m doing?”

“Teasing me, which you’ve been doing all night.” She rubbed the back of her other hand across her cheek with a quick, angry movement. “I know this is all a charade, but you didn’t have to embarrass me. Especially with Serena.”

He toyed with her stiff fingers, wriggling his in between them. “Did it ever occur to you that I felt just as uncomfortable tonight as you did?”

Her lower lip thrust out in a tempting pout. “I don’t know why. You always do just as you want and everyone else walks on tiptoe, afraid to annoy you. Besides, I’m sure half the men at the party owed you money. I would think you’d relish the chance to lord it over them.”

“You’d be wrong. I might be intimately acquainted with both the purses and the vices of many of the men in the ton, but that doesn’t mean I socialize with them, much less have any kind of friendship with them. Men came to my establishments to gamble, drink, and to whore. I never cheated them, and I served the best of everything, including the women. That’s why I know them, Justine, not because they are my friends. In fact, I’m sure most of them can’t stand the sight of me. I remind them too much of their own stupidities and failings.”


She still refused to meet his eye, but her head tilted in his direction and her fingers finally relaxed in his grip.

“But everyone seemed . . . I don’t know . . . in awe of you. Almost as if they were frightened of you,” she responded softly.

“Some of them probably are,” he said drily, “precisely because they do owe me money.”

“Oh.”

She gave his hand a brief squeeze then she pulled her fingers away. He was content to let her do so—for now.

“Aden did say you were acting that way because you were uncomfortable.”

He frowned. “Acting which way?”

“Flirting with Serena, of course.”

“I was not flirting with Serena.”

She waved an impatient hand. “Well, whatever it was you were doing with her, Aden said you probably wished you could run screaming out into the street.”

Griffin didn’t much relish that image. “My cousin should mind his own business. Besides, I would never scream. Run, perhaps, if the circumstances called for it, but never scream.”

One corner of her mouth briefly quirked up in a smile. He wanted to flick his tongue against the plump, tempting edges of those pretty lips, and then slip inside.

“I’m vastly relieved to hear that,” she said. “I doubt it would fit your image as an unrepentant villain.”

“Indeed.”

He thought about repeating that he wasn’t truly a villain, but her comment suggested she already realized that. Disconcerted by the relief he felt, he abruptly switched tack. “Justine, why do you dislike Serena? You spent quite a lot of time with her growing up, didn’t you?”

She twisted a bit, half facing him. “You mean, besides the fact that she’s vain, selfish, and disloyal?”

He flashed a quick smile. “Yes, besides that.”

She sighed, slumping a bit in her seat. “It’s true that I spent most summers and some holidays at my grandfather’s estate. Uncle William and my aunt lived there, too, so I more or less grew up with my cousins.”

“How many of them were there?”

“Two girls and three boys. Everyone else I like very much, especially the boys. I didn’t make a fuss like other girls and I loved spending time outdoors, so the boys accepted me. Rebecca was my junior by eight years, which meant I didn’t know her very well. But I did enjoy playing with her in the nursery when she was a baby. She was very sweet.”

She fell silent, obviously brooding a little.

“But Serena?” he prompted.

She startled a bit and then grimaced. “Serena is two years older than me, and my uncle’s favorite child. But instead of feeling secure in that, she seemed to resent any affection Uncle William ever showed me. And I was Grandpapa’s favorite too, which Serena truly hated. They didn’t get along at all, you see. Their personalities were too different,” she said, earnestly. “Of course, she can be as sweet as honey when she puts her mind to it, so she can always twist my uncle around her finger, partly because she resembles her mother. My uncle was devastated when Aunt Sarah died, and Serena reminds him of her and what a wonderful person his wife was.”

Griffin was reluctantly fascinated. Having grown up an only child, his sole relative a dour and stern great-uncle, he couldn’t begin to imagine life in a large and obviously lively family.

“And your grandfather, I take it, was not fooled by Serena’s girlish charms.”

“Not in the least. She hated that she couldn’t manipulate him.”

“And she obviously took that out on you,” he said, beginning to regret he’d ever exchanged a word with the woman. “What form did her retribution take?”

“You mean besides pulling on my hair and calling me bran-faced?” she asked in a flat voice.

“Yes.” As painful as the memories might be, he needed to know everything he could about his wife.

She let out a quiet sigh. “She used to slap and pinch me when no one was looking. Never anywhere that left a mark, mind you. Serena was too clever for that. She also knew I would never tattle on her.”

Griffin’s curse brought Justine’s gaze to his face.

“Bitch,” he said in a harsh voice. “I have a mind to have a chat with Cousin Serena.”

Justine let out a shaky laugh. “I appreciate the sentiment, but retribution isn’t necessary since I eventually learned to defend myself. When I was thirteen, I pushed her off the terrace into a rose bush. The results were quite gratifying, especially since Serena was wearing her favorite gown.”

His fury eased up a bit and he managed a smile. “I can imagine. But didn’t the bad-tempered little fool go running to her father?”

Justine gave him a self-satisfied grin. “She did, and to my grandfather, too. But neither of them would believe her. They thought me too quiet and well-mannered to engage in that sort of behavior. Grandpapa insisted that Serena be sent to bed without supper, both for telling a lie and shredding her new gown.”

This time Griffin laughed. “Good. Still, I can’t imagine that someone like your cousin would give up her tormenting ways so easily. Why didn’t you ever tell your father or grandfather how she treated you?”

Justine picked at the tips of her gloved fingers until Griffin placed his hands on top of them, stilling her. “Justine?”

“Oh, very well,” she grumbled. “It’s just that it makes it sound rather mawkish and pathetic, which it wasn’t. But I thought if I’d told anyone, Papa would have raised a huge row on my behalf. I was afraid he wouldn’t let me return to visit them every summer, and I did so love it there. Except for Serena, of course.”

“Of course,” he said gravely. An unfamiliar sense of empathy rustled around in his armored heart. He could well imagine Justine as a child—a redheaded and freckled dab of a thing, desperate for a sense of normality in her life. Griffin would have wanted the same, if he’d even been able to imagine it as a child.

She turned fully around to face him, twisting her velvet cloak into a mass of crumpled folds but not seeming to notice.

“You mustn’t feel sorry for me,” she said. “I was very lucky to have the family I did—that I do. I wasn’t unhappy with my life, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He took her gloved hands and raised them to his lips, gently pressing a kiss on the soft kid. “But I think you were unhappy, at least sometimes, and perhaps a little lonely?”

When her breath quickened, his heartbeat accelerated to match. His emotions, growing surprisingly strong as she’d revealed herself to him, coalesced around one urgent desire—to have her under him, naked and yielding to both their needs.

“Yes, perhaps a little,” she said in a pretty, breathless voice. “On occasion.”

He cradled her determined little jaw. “My sweet girl, you never need be lonely again.”

Refusing to analyze what those words truly meant, Griffin lowered his head and kissed her.