Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(103)

“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.