Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(145)

The Italian smiled. “Your wisdom in these matters is faultless, Sir Dominic, as I have so happily been made aware.”

“Oh, good God,” Griffin muttered.

Justine pinched his fingers. “Please continue, sir.”

“Certainly, dear lady. As you may know, the duke, his mother the duchess, and their court have been living in exile for several years, displaced from their rightful throne by Bonaparte. Although their primary residence during exile was Vienna, the duke did spend part of last year in England. His mother wished him to travel, both for his own edification and to strengthen contacts with our great ally, the British Crown.”

Justine frowned. “How old is the duke?”

“He is now just twenty-three years of age,” the count replied. “His father died some years ago, leaving the duchess as regent. As you can imagine, all her energies these last years have gone to restoring the Duchy of San Agosto to the hands of her son, its rightful heir.”

“And where does Stephen come into all this?” Griffin asked.

“During his time in London, His Highness entered into a liaison with a young woman, the daughter of a merchant. The unfortunate result was a child,” the count said, grimacing with distaste. “The duke is a man of gentle and refined character, and he was quite unable to resist the lures put forth by this English temptress and her displays of easy virtue.”

Griffin was torn between a desire to laugh at the idiot’s overheated rhetoric or level him a facer.

“Actually,” Dominic interjected in an austere voice, “Sophia Bennett was, by all accounts, a lovely young girl from a good family. Her father is a prosperous linen-draper, and Sophia received a genteel education at a girl’s seminary. It was a sad day for her when she crossed the duke’s path.”

Count Marzano’s mouth curled down in a sneer. “I am afraid we will have to disagree on that point, Sir Dominic, but I commend your loyalty to your countrywoman.”

“What happened to Sophia?” Justine asked impatiently.

Dominic glanced at Griffin, then answered with some reluctance. “When her parents discovered her condition, they disowned her.”

Justine gasped. “They threw her out of the house?”

Dominic nodded. “Sadly, yes.”

Griffin swallowed, resisting the urge to punch something or someone—the count would do, but that would hardly help matters. Instead, he slipped his hand out from under Justine’s warm grip and stood, crossing to the window. He pretended to stare out at the street while he struggled to quell the fury burning in his chest. Christ, another innocent woman abandoned by those who should have protected her and her child.


“An understandable reaction by her parents,” Count Marzano said. “Miss Bennett, however, was not left to starve. In his kindness, the duke set her up in a small house and provided for her needs until she gave birth.”

“Thank God,” Justine sighed. “But I still don’t understand how little Stephen ended up on our doorstep. Why did Miss Bennett do such a thing if the duke was providing for her needs?”

Griffin mentally blinked at her easy use of the phrase our doorstep, and he turned to look at her. All her attention, however, remained focused on Count Marzano.

Dominic answered this time. “You’re making the assumption that Sophia was the veiled woman. From what the duke told Count Marzano, Sophia died of fever only a month after the child was born.”

“Oh, no!” Justine covered her mouth in distress.

Part of Griffin wished to stay as far from the others as possible, and from the ugly tale being told. But he couldn’t remain separate while Justine suffered. He sat down beside her, wrapping an arm around her. She pressed a hand to his chest as if both seeking and giving comfort.