Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(101)

“Apparently they came by carriage,” Griffin said. “There were five of them but only one presented himself at the door, telling Phelps he had a message for me. When Phelps opened the door to let him in—and that man did speak English—the others came swarming out of the carriage. Fortunately, Deacon was working in my office and heard the commotion. Dominic’s man was also able to alert the porter on the door at The Golden Tie. Between the four of them, they were able to repulse the attack.”

“But what did they want?” Justine asked. “Were they trying to rob you?”

Griffin pressed his lips into a hard line, as if he didn’t want to answer.

“Tell me,” Justine demanded.

He grimaced with grudging capitulation. “They made no attempt to try for my office, where the safe is, nor did the man who got upstairs show any interest in my bedroom or belongings.”

Already dreading the answer, Justine cradled the now-sleeping baby more closely against her shoulder. “Where did he go?”


“To my room, miss,” said Rose in a grim voice. “And he tossed it right proper, too. He was looking for something, all right. Although what he hoped to find in a baby’s cradle is a mystery to me.”

Horrified, Justine stared into Griffin’s implacable, knowing gaze. She could barely force the words past her lips. “He was looking for the baby. And for the ring.”





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.”