Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(128)

When he turned away to fetch their clothing, she was left to wonder whether he was pleased by that fact or simply resigned.





CHAPTER Twenty



Justine hurried down the hallway, buttoning up her sleeve as she went. She was already terribly late for dinner, as Phelps had reminded her when he’d come knocking on her door. She had no excuse since Rose had all but shoved her out of the nursery earlier and told her to get changed. But Justine hadn’t wanted to leave Stephen, since his sniffles had developed into a miserable cold.

“It’s not the first time I’ve cared for a sick wee one,” Rose had said. “But if it makes you feel any better, you can sit up with him for the first part of the night. That way I can snatch a bit of sleep.”

Justine’s relief at having a logical excuse to avoid spending the night with Griffin told her all she needed to know about the state of her nerves after their earth-shattering encounter in the stables. As glorious as her first sexual experience had been, her emotions were still in turmoil and she dreaded being alone with him.

After they’d returned to the house, Griffin had planted an affectionate kiss on the tip of her nose and sent her upstairs to bathe. Feeling ridiculously awkward, she had simply given him a grateful smile and headed up the staircase. But when she reached the top and glanced down, she was startled to see Griffin’s dark eyes locked on her. His smile had disappeared and his impassive gaze had revealed nothing of his emotions. She’d shivered, and not from the cold or from her rain-dampened skirts.

Their lovemaking had changed everything, forever erasing Justine’s half-formed and admittedly na?ve plans to seek an annulment. Since she hadn’t a clue how her husband truly felt about her—aside from the fact that he took pleasure in her body—that thought was unnerving.

As to her state of mind and heart . . . it wasn’t comforting. Consummation of their marriage had shown her quite clearly that she was falling in love with her husband. Not that she intended to share that fact. Instinct told her that Griffin would label such a declaration of emotion as inconvenient sentimentality.

When she came to the bottom of the stairs, Phelps appeared from the back to show her into dinner. “Mr. Griffin’s waiting for you in the small dining parlor, missus. He said to serve as soon as you come down.”

Justine gave Phelps a weak smile, knowing she’d forced Griffin to wait for his dinner. She couldn’t help mentally wincing at the way she’d been dragging her feet like a guilt-ridden child afraid to face the consequences of her actions.

Silently scolding herself for acting like a ninny, she plastered a smile on her face, determined to look entirely composed and in control. After all, she was his wife, and she’d done nothing more than spend the afternoon with her lawfully wedded husband. The fact that they’d spent that time engaging in delicious sexual intimacies, in a stable no less, had no bearing on the present situation or the fact that she was late for dinner.

Since Phelps replied to her bright smile merely with a shake of the head and a few muttered words under his breath, Justine rather suspected she’d failed to pull it off. Sighing, she walked into the room knowing she probably looked flustered and out of sorts.

“Ah, my love, there you are,” Griffin said in a gently ironic voice as he rose from the dining table. “I was beginning to wonder if we’d have to send a Bow Street Runner to track you down.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I took forever with my bath, which was quite selfish of me, I know, and then I wanted to spend time with the baby. He’s not feeling well, you know, and I can’t help being a bit worried about him. Rose says I worry too much, but one never knows with these sorts of illnesses in infants. They can quickly grow into something quite serious if not properly attended to.”