Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(15)

“All right, he can stay,” Griffin said to Dominic. “But I have a condition. You must—”

A knock interrupted him, and then Phelps popped his head into the room. “You rang, guv?”

“No, Phelps, I did,” answered Dominic. “Would you please bring my coat and hat?”

“In a twinkle,” Phelps said before disappearing.

“Griffin, it’s time you acquired a proper butler,” Dominic said. “I’m sure Phelps has many estimable qualities, but he is lamentably lacking in polish.”

Griffin resisted the impulse to tell the older man to sod off. “I don’t want a butler, nor do I wish to discuss your unceasing efforts to reform me. What I do want is to discuss my condition for allowing this infant to remain in my house.”


“I imagine you want a proper nurse,” Dominic said.

“Yes, and sooner rather than later,” he snapped. “This entire situation is bloody inconvenient and disruptive. It’s the last thing I need, especially now.”

“I’ll attend to that immediately,” Dominic said in a soothing voice calibrated to grate on Griffin’s nerves. “I know how agitating you find disruption in your household to be.”

Madeline exchanged a glance with Dominic. They were both evidently trying not to laugh. Griffin glared at them, wondering when he’d started to act like a querulous old woman instead of a man in control of his own fate.





CHAPTER Three



Justine Brightmore stepped out of the carriage to gaze at the imposing town house before her. Her anxiety abated slightly as she took in the marbled portico and the handsome Venetian windows of the elegant house on Jermyn Street. It certainly didn’t fit her idea of either a brothel or a former gambling club, although her knowledge of such places was obviously limited. And since Mr. Steele’s establishments catered to the highest levels of the ton, she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised by its genteel facade. Still, she breathed a mental sigh of relief that Dominic’s assurances that he wasn’t pitching her into a nefarious den of sin seemed to be accurate.

The corner of her godparent’s mouth twitched with a knowing smile as he helped her to the pavement. “Justine, you must realize that I would never expose you to anything I didn’t think you could manage.”

She winced. She’d hoped to hide her trepidation at embarking on this unwanted assignment, but had obviously failed. “Yes, I do. I know it’s silly to be anxious, and I’m going to lay the blame for my case of nerves on fatigue and lack of information. After all, I did get into London very late last night, and you have been sparing in your information.”

She’d received the express post from Dominic a few days ago, at Lady Hester Belgrave’s estate outside of Cambridge. Justine had been Lady Belgrave’s paid companion for a year and a half now, at the dowager countess’ old-fashioned but comfortable manor house. She’d been happy there. Lady Belgrave treated her more like a favored niece than a paid servant, and Justine relished the quiet order of their days. All was peaceful, sedate, and blessedly respectable, and she would miss it every minute she had to stay in London.

But she owed Dominic more than she could ever repay, and if he needed her help, then she must give it. Lady Belgrave had also insisted she take up the temporary post, claiming that it was time to have a little adventure in her life. Justine thought that caring for a mysterious baby for a man like Griffin Steele—in a brothel, no less—might be rather more of an adventure than she cared for.

Justine had had quite enough dramatics in her life while her father was alive. She loathed returning to the city where they had lived, and only her sense of duty and genuine affection for her godparent had overcome her steadfast reluctance.