Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(105)

“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.”