Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(156)

For several long seconds, the words lacked meaning. Time and even his breathing seemed suspended as his brain struggled to comprehend.

“Chloe Steele,” Dominic added, as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

The sound of her name slammed through Griffin, driving hot rushes of blood through his veins. His stomach seemed to crawl up into his throat and he had to swallow several times before he could speak. “My mother is dead.”

“No, my son,” the woman said. “I’m right here, with you.”

Griffin closed his eyes against the words and the heartfelt emotion in her warm voice. He had no defenses against it—against this unthinkable meeting—and he stumbled back a few steps simply to put some distance between them.

“Griffin, I realize that this is certainly a shock,” Dominic said, sounding rather alarmed. “Perhaps you should sit down.”

The older man’s voice acted like a tonic. Griffin’s eyes snapped open and he glared at the woman who should—who did—mean nothing to him, at least not now. Until Justine was safe, nothing else mattered.

“I don’t need to sit down,” he growled. “Nor do I have time for melodramatic family reunion      s. My wife, blast her, has run off and I need to find her.”

“Yes, I know,” Dominic said. “That’s why Chloe is here.”

Griffin felt his mouth drop open as surprise slammed through him again. His gaze snapped to his mother. “How are you involved with this? What do you know about Justine?”

“I helped her and the baby escape,” she replied.

It took a moment for him to absorb that. “You did what?” He took a step forward.

“Griffin, do not lay your hands on her,” Dominic snapped in a warning voice.

Taken aback, Griffin shot him a puzzled look. Dominic’s gaze fell pointedly to Griffin’s hands, unconsciously curled into fists.

“For Christ’s sake, I would never hurt a woman and you know it,” Griffin said. Still, he could feel more heat creeping into his face.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Chloe said. Despite her deathly pale complexion, she faced him with calm dignity. “I have earned it.”

Griffin pinched the space between his eyebrows. “I was wrong. This isn’t melodrama, it’s farce.”

His mother shrugged, but one corner of her mouth quirked up with a hint of amusement.

“Not that I don’t enjoy a good farce,” Griffin continued, “but we must find my wife. She’s in danger, so if you know where she is, you must tell me right now.”

Chloe shook her head. “I have her safely hidden, I assure you. And I cannot tell anyone where she is as long as you insist on turning Stephen over to Count Marzano.”

Griffin stared at her with dawning horror. “Good God, you’re the mysterious veiled woman.”

She winced at the description. “Guilty as charged.”

“How did you even know where to find me?” he asked, incredulous.

She gave him a tremulous smile. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you for several years, Griffin.” When her voice caught, it sounded as if it held a lifetime of sorrow.

His sluggish brain seemed unable to comprehend her answers. “And where have you been living all this time while you’ve been keeping an eye on me?”

“I have a manor house just outside the City, in Camberwell. My business occasionally brought me into London. It’s never been difficult to make discreet inquiries as to your well-being.”