Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom

CHAPTER Sixteen



A gentle hand on Justine’s shoulder roused her from sleep.

“Mrs. Steele, it’s time to get up now. Griffin and Sir Dominic are waiting for you in the breakfast room.”

Justine sat up, trying to focus her bleary gaze on Madeline Reeves’ face. The madam was a model of composure, garbed in an elegantly simple gown of burgundy wool. It didn’t seem to matter what time of day or night it was, Mrs. Reeves always appeared cool and calm, never less than in perfect control of the circumstances. She was beginning to wonder if the woman actually needed sleep in order to function.

Unfortunately, Justine had only the vaguest memory of what it was like to get a full night’s sleep, uninterrupted by break-ins, colicky babies, or husbands intent on seduction. She suspected she wouldn’t be correcting the situation anytime soon.

Stifling a yawn, she threw off the cashmere throw someone had placed over her last night—or this morning, she should more properly say. By the time they’d managed to get everyone settled and the babies back to sleep, it had been almost four o’clock. Justine had felt too rattled to sleep, but Griffin had insisted.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he’d said, giving her a little push toward her room. “I’ll be sitting up the rest of the night, as will Deacon and Phelps.”

“I’m not worried, but I think it would be best to speak to Uncle Dominic as soon as possible, don’t you?”

“Contrary to what you might believe, my wife,” he’d drily responded, “I am not an idiot. I sent Dominic’s man out to run him down over an hour ago. As usual, he’s never where you want him to be, so we just have to wait.”

She’d peered at him, almost cross-eyed with fatigue but still battling the feeling that she should be doing something. “I could keep you company while you waited. It might be easier to stay awake if you had someone to talk to.”

The tough lines of his face had softened as he studied her. “Sweetheart, the best thing you could do is to get some rest. The baby will be awake soon enough.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she’d responded, “but I want to speak with Uncle Dominic as soon as he gets here.”

“I promise to wake you when he arrives,” he’d said, turning her to the door and giving her another little shove. “Now go.”

She’d given him a sleepy smile, touched by his concern for her, and stumbled her way up to bed. After kicking off her shoes—taking off her dress had defeated her—she’d crawled onto the high mattress. Her last conscious thought had been how thoroughly Griffin had taken control of the situation, handling everything with a masterful calm while reestablishing order over his domain. Only her confidence in him—and she had hazily realized how much confidence she did have in him—allowed her to drift off to sleep.

“What time is it?” she asked Mrs. Reeves as she dragged herself to her dressing table.

“Going on seven o’clock. Sir Dominic arrived a short time ago, and he and Griffin are having breakfast.” The other woman pulled a gown from Justine’s wardrobe and placed it on the bed. “Griffin said to dress warmly and be prepared for travel.”

Justine stared at herself in the mirror, disgusted by her pallid complexion and the state of her beautiful evening gown. It had been demolished by her restless sleep. But at Madeline’s words, she pulled her attention away from her unfortunate reflection.

“Travel? Did Griffin say where? Will the baby come with me?”

“There’s no point in asking me. I’m sure he’ll explain everything to you when you get downstairs. Hurry, now. You must get changed and then I have to awaken Rose.”

Justine bit back the myriad questions on the tip of her tongue. She’d learned there was little point in pressing Griffin’s people for information. His establishment struck her as something akin to a feudal household, where the master demanded total loyalty and offered protection and security in return. In some ways he reminded her of her grandfather, imperious to a fault but utterly responsible and committed to all who fell under his care.

In other words, Griffin was a typical, old-fashioned nobleman. Despite his disreputable background, he was a man who displayed a fundamental decency and honesty she’d found lacking in many other members of the breed.

She pondered that irony while she washed, hurrying through her toilette as Mrs. Reeves slipped into the other room to wake Rose. After the madam returned to button her up, Justine made her way downstairs, carefully holding onto the polished oak banister. In her muzzy-headed state, she could easily take a misstep and go tumbling down in a heap.

The hall was lit by one spirit lamp on the narrow table by the door. The shattered mirror from last night had been taken away, the blank spot on the wall now the only visible sign of last night’s disturbance. Through the fan light over the door, another gray-smudged London morning struggled to penetrate the interior gloom.

And like a wraith in that gloom, Phelps appeared from the back of the house. He was neatly dressed and wide-awake, even though Justine suspected he’d not been to sleep, either.

She murmured her thanks as he opened the door to the breakfast parlor. Unlike the hall, the cheerful room, decorated in canary yellow with pale blue trim, glowed with light and warmth even though the yellow and blue striped curtains were shut firmly against the encroaching day. But all the wall sconces and lamps were lit, as were several branches of candles scattered on the sideboards and on the rosewood circular breakfast table.

“Good morning, Justine,” said Griffin, rising from his chair and crossing to her. His brow wore a slight frown but his dark eyes sparked with knowing interest as he took her hand.

All but certain he was remembering the intimate scene between them last night, Justine barely mustered up a smile that felt just short of a wince. But she couldn’t even hold on to that expression when he lifted her hand to his mouth for a brief kiss. It forced her to focus her energies in keeping her weak-willed knees from going out beneath her.

“I trust you rested a bit?” His voice held a husky note, but his falconlike eyes darted over her in quick inspection. And like everyone else in this dratted house but her, he looked alert, even though she was certain he hadn’t slept.

He had, however, shaved and changed, switching from evening dress to his habitual black coat and breeches, booted for riding or travel. His long hair was pulled back in a neat club, tied with a black leather thong.

“A bit is how I would describe it,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t know how everyone but me seems rested when I know you’ve all not had a wink of sleep.”

“No rest for the wicked,” Griffin murmured with a gleam of a smile.

“Truer words were never spoken,” Dominic said with heavy sarcasm. He, too, had risen to his feet, pulling out the chair next to him. “Come sit, Mrs. Steele. Your husband can wait on you this morning.”


Justine stood on tiptoe and kissed her godparent on the cheek. “Don’t be so absurd, Uncle Dominic. If you refer to me as Mrs. Steele, I shall likely end up ignoring you. I can barely remember my old name, much less a new one.”

“As you wish,” he said with a smile. “I must say, however, that you’re looking well despite everything. Married life must agree with you.”

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “It’s been what every girl dreams of, what with all the gossip and scandal, and the awkward dinner parties with family members who flirt with one’s new husband. Not to mention capped off by a nice little break-in and attempted kidnapping. Truly, if I’d known it was going to be this much fun, I would have married a long time ago.”

“I assure you, my sweet,” Griffin said as he loaded up a plate at the sideboard, “that marriage to anyone else but me would be a very dull affair.”

“How lucky for me, then, that I avoided the parson’s trap until I met you,” she said tartly.

Dominic laughed. “Indeed. But all jesting aside, how are you holding up?”

She smiled her thanks as he poured her a cup of coffee. “I’m all right, I suppose, although I could do with less excitement and more sleep.”

“I think we have the solution to that,” Griffin said as he deposited a ridiculously full plate in front of her.

“My dear sir, this could feed the entire household,” she protested.

“Come now, Justine. I know you have a healthy appetite, for which I am exceedingly grateful,” Griffin responded. “If there’s anything I loathe it’s a woman who picks at her food, whinging on that she can’t eat another bite. It’s enough to drive a man insane.”

“I suppose you’re correct,” she said, eyeing her plate, “but I don’t think I can face kippers this morning, or underdone beef. Not if we’re to be in a carriage. Mrs. Reeves said I was to dress for travel.”

Griffin and Dominic exchanged another of those swiftly veiled glances, prompting the vague notion in Justine’s tired brain that she might like to stab one of them with her fork. She would no doubt be appalled by the bloodthirsty direction of her thoughts later, but for now she was finding their little habit quite annoying. For two men who supposedly didn’t get on very well, they seemed to communicate quite effectively without words.

But their obvious attempts to shield her from unpleasantness were unnecessary. She was no fragile miss, ready to dissolve into vapors at a moment’s notice. Her father had known that, trusting her with a great deal of his most important business concerns, even including her in his research to break French cypher codes.

“I do wish you two would stop casting such fraught-with-meaning glances at each other,” she said as she heaped a generous spoonful of orange marmalade onto her toast. “I’m not going to collapse into a puddle if you tell me the truth. If I didn’t after last night, I’m certainly not going to do it now. I’ll be just fine.”

“I’m sure you will, my dear,” replied Dominic with a glint of humor in his green eyes. “To answer your question, Griffin and I feel it best that you leave town for a while. You and the baby.”

“I will go with you, of course,” Griffin added in a tone that brooked no resistance. “No one will think twice about us leaving town for a spell, especially since we are so recently married.”

She rolled her eyes to cover up the jolt she’d felt at the thought of going away with him. “Oh, yes, taking a baby with us will certainly convince everyone we’re on a wedding trip.”

That earned her a reluctant grin. “I see your point, but no one knows about the infant. If we quietly decamp from London, no one should be the wiser.”

She thought that over while she chewed her toast. The very idea of going on a wedding trip with Griffin, even a pretend trip, unnerved her. It made their marriage, which felt less and less of a sham as time went by, seem even more real.

“While I agree it’s good to be cautious, especially where the baby is concerned,” she said, “is leaving really necessary? Surely those ruffians who descended on the household last night will not be so foolish as to try that again. And do we truly know whether they were coming for Stephen, or for some other purpose?”

“I think we can say with some degree of certainty that last night was, indeed, an intended kidnapping,” Dominic said. “We can’t be sure that they might not have snatched you or Rose as well, to care for the child. At this point, we simply don’t know enough about their motives to ascertain what they would or would not do. Clearly, they are rather desperate, which makes them dangerous.”

Losing her appetite, Justine pushed her plate to the side. “I see. Do we know anything about them at this point, aside from the fact that they might be Italian?”

“From what Dominic’s discovered, they’re definitely Italian,” Griffin said, pulling Justine’s plate over in front of him. His empty plate indicated he’d already eaten a full breakfast.

“Are you really going to eat that?” she demanded. “How can you at a time like this?”

“No point in wasting it,” he replied with an unseemly amount of insouciance for so early in the morning. “I learned a long time ago to never make assumptions about when my next meal would be forthcoming.”

That was certainly a revealing tidbit. She tucked it away for a more propitious time to follow where the trail might lead. “Very wise of you, I’m sure, but to get back to my original question—”

“Yes,” Dominic interjected. “I do have a number of ideas about that, but few hard facts. As you know, Bonaparte’s annexation of Italian territory over the course of the wars displaced the ruling families of several duchies and kingdoms. Some of those families were forced to flee into exile, seeking refuge in Vienna or at other sympathetic courts. Those families have not, however, given up hope of reclaiming their lost kingdoms.”

“Yes,” Justine said, “I know that. But what’s it got to do with Stephen?”

Before her godparent could even answer, she shook her head, annoyed that she’d failed to grasp the answer immediately. Papa would have scolded to see her become so dull-witted. “You think he might be a member of one of those exiled families. Is that what your research into the signet ring has led you to believe?”

“Yes. I believe the signet is from one of the cadet branches of the Hapsburgs, possibly the House of San Agosto or San Gustello. Unfortunately, I cannot be entirely sure at this point, and my investigations will naturally continue.”

Justine frowned, trying to see the sense in hiding a baby away in so extraordinary a fashion. “If so, why all the secrecy? The war is over. And why here, of all places? It seems a rather odd choice for hiding a baby from such a distinguished family.”

“Oh, really?” Griffin asked sardonically.

Drat. Of course, Griffin was from an even more distinguished family, so what she’d just said must strike him as rather insulting. “Well, you know what I mean,” she said, wincing.

He flashed a dazzling and rare grin. The few times she’d seen it, it had made her stomach flutter with excitement. Marriage to him hadn’t lessened the impact.


“I do, my sweet,” he said. “And that is the pertinent question, isn’t it? Unfortunately, I don’t think we’ll know the answer until we discover the child’s parentage, and his standing within that particular family.”

“And for that to happen,” Justine added, “his family must either claim him, which doesn’t seem very likely at this point, or—”

“Or we must find the mysterious woman who left him here in the first place,” Griffin finished for her.

She couldn’t hold back a smile, aware once again of how easy it was to talk to him. When she could put aside the bizarre nature of their circumstances—and the fact that he was now her husband, and all the complications which that entailed—she realized she hadn’t felt so comfortable with anyone since those long-ago days spent with her grandfather, poring through dusty but fascinating tomes in his library.

“So, Dominic,” Griffin drawled, switching his attention to the older man, “what about the woman of mystery? Any new information on her to impart?” He made the questions sound like a challenge.

Justine peered anxiously at her godparent. He’d resisted this line of questioning before, and with an uncharacteristically bad temper. Not that she could ever be afraid of Dominic—that was simply impossible for her—but the notion that anything could discompose him so greatly was unnerving.

Dominic’s face might as well have been carved from the side of a granite cliff for all the information it conveyed. He and Griffin stared at each other for a few seconds, like two wary animals facing off. Justine held her breath, waiting for the flurry of snarling words and flying fur, but Dominic eventually lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

“I’m sorry to say my investigations along that line have yielded little fruit. I will, of course, keep you apprised of any developments.”

Griffin leaned back in his chair, flinging a casual arm over the back. Justine bit back a sigh. He might appear to be relaxed, but the flint in his gaze told her otherwise.

“Now, why do I doubt that?” Griffin asked in a ruminating tone. “Oh, wait, I know. Because it’s not true. What the hell are you holding back from me, Dominic?”

Even though he didn’t move a muscle, the chill emanating from Dominic would have reduced most men to cringing apology. Justine had seen him do it more than once, when he felt the circumstances called for it. Her godparent was not a bully nor was he ever unfair. Still, it was never a pleasant experience to be at the receiving end of his ire, and she found herself resenting the fact that he directed it toward Griffin.

“I think you know me better than that,” Dominic said in a voice perfectly calibrated to depress pretension. “When you need to know something, I will tell you. If I do not, then you may trust it is of no import to you.”

Griffin scoffed at him. “What a load of rot. That’s what you do, Dominic. You control the flow of information so you can keep us all dancing like puppets on the end of a string.” His gaze jumped to Justine, freezing her, before returning to the other man. “It’s what you did with us, wasn’t it? Why did you bring Justine into this household? Surely you could have found someone more suited to the task, couldn’t you? Someone not as likely to be harmed by her association with me. Why, then, didn’t you?”

The logical part of her knew it was a very good question—she’d thought of it herself—but it was not one Dominic was likely to answer. Besides, if she didn’t break the spiraling tension in the room, the fur would begin to fly and the results would be ugly.

“Yes, that’s all very interesting,” she said, “but we seem to be wandering away from the point.”

They both stared at her as if they’d momentarily forgotten she was there. Or as if she’d lost her wits. Probably the latter.

“I mean the immediate point, which is to secure the baby’s safety. That should be our first order of business, don’t you think?” she asked.

Dominic broke first, reaching over to pat her hand. “Thank you for reminding us, Justine. The baby’s safety, as well as yours, is our immediate concern, is it not, Griffin?”

His voice held a taunting note that reminded her of how very annoying and childish men could be. But it was unexpected in Dominic, and it told her just how much Griffin had managed to ruffle him.

Griffin crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course I agree, but don’t think you’ll be avoiding my questions forever, Dominic. We will have this discussion whether you wish it or not.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dominic responded in a blighting tone. “But if you wish to speak with me when you return to London, I shall place myself at your disposal.”

Griffin murmured something under his breath that sounded like bloody bastard, but Justine chose to ignore it.

“Well, now that we have that settled,” she said in a bright tone, “what’s next? If we are leaving town today, I still have to pack and help Rose with the babies.”

“Rose will be coming with us,” Griffin responded. “But she’ll be leaving little Sammy behind. We need to draw as little attention as possible. Keeping one baby under wraps is difficult enough. Keeping two is well-nigh impossible, so I’ve instructed her to make other arrangements for her son’s keeping for the next few weeks.”

She stared at him, aghast. “Griffin, how can you think to separate her from her baby like that? She’s still weaning him.”

He sighed and rubbed the spot between his eyebrows, suddenly looking tired. Clearly, the night was finally starting to catch up with him. “My love, I do wish you would have more faith in me. Rose informs me that Sammy is now fully weaned, and that her mother can care for him for the next few weeks. In fact,” he added sarcastically, “Rose made a point of telling me that only having one baby to nurse will seem like a rare treat.”

Justine winced with guilt. What with all the excitement these last few days, she’d shifted most of Stephen’s care onto Rose. “That’s my fault. I haven’t been doing my share, but I’ll correct that.”

“You will not,” Griffin said, now looking both annoyed and tired. “I will not have my wife playing nursemaid. If we need more help, we’ll hire it when we’re set up in the country.”

She frowned. “That hardly makes sense given that we’re trying to keep the baby’s presence a secret. I’m perfectly capable of looking after him.”

“Justine,” Griffin started in a warning voice.

“This is all very interesting, but I think it can be settled later,” Dominic broke in, rising to his feet. He touched Justine’s elbow, urging her to stand and start toward the door. “Dress warmly, my dear. You have a long day of travel ahead of you.”

She stopped halfway across the room and frowned at him. “I haven’t even thought to ask where we’re going or for how long.”

“I hope you won’t be away from town for more than a few weeks,” her godparent replied. “As to where you’re going—”

He exchanged a grim look with Griffin, who picked up where Dominic left off. “Let’s hope it’s where no one can find us.”