Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(157)

Chloe kept her gaze steady but her eyes seemed to plead with him for something. Forgiveness? Could she really expect that of him after abandoning him all these years?

“Good God,” Dominic muttered in self-disgust. “Right under my blasted nose.”

Her attention darted to Dominic, her pale cheeks flushing pink. “I’m sorry, but it seemed the right thing to do.”

“To let us think you were probably dead?” Griffin asked, incredulous. “How could that possibly be right?”

When she opened her mouth to answer, he waved an impatient hand. “Never mind. I don’t want to hear it. What I do want to know is why you’ve chosen to spirit my wife away to a location you refuse to reveal.”

“Of course,” she said. “But it’s not a simple story to tell.”

“Imagine my surprise to hear that,” Griffin replied, torn between sarcasm and frustration.

Dominic came around the desk to gently grasp Chloe’s arm. Griffin couldn’t help but notice how she jerked when he touched her, her cheeks flushing an even brighter pink.

“Come, sit down,” Dominic said gently as he steered her to one of the wing chairs before the fireplace. “Let me ring for some—”

“Dominic, if you ring for tea I swear I’ll kill you,” Griffin threatened. “We don’t have time for that.”

When Dominic shot him an irate glare, Chloe held up her hand. “I don’t need any tea, and I agree that time is of the essence.”

“Very well,” Dominic muttered. “Griffin, do stop glaring at your mother and sit down. Your rude behavior is simply wasting time.”

His mother gave him a tentative but remarkably sweet smile. “Yes, please sit across from me, dear.”

They calmly waited for Griffin to make a decision, as if they were simply sitting down for a cozy chat. As if his mother hadn’t just come back from the dead and completely changed his life in a heartbeat.

“Fine,” he snapped, stalking over to the chair. “But you’re obviously both insane.”

Dominic shook his head in disapproval and leaned against his desk, once more completely in control of the situation. Griffin hadn’t a clue how he managed it because he knew how long Dominic had been looking for Chloe. Since it had been a sacred mission for him, how he could be so calm now was a complete bloody mystery.

“All right, Mother,” he said. “Please tell me what the hell is going on.”

Instead of starching up at his sarcasm, she gave him possibly the most beatific smile he’d ever seen. Suddenly, he had to swallow a lump in his throat the size of a boulder.

“Of course, my son.” She paused for a moment, as if ordering her thoughts.

“As I mentioned, I have an establishment in Camberwell,” she started. “It’s a home of sorts for unmarried girls who have fallen pregnant and have nowhere else to go. Not a school, precisely, nor a public charity. Most girls who find their way to me have a great desire to keep their situations secret, if at all possible. Many are able to return to their former lives once I’ve found good homes for their babies. A few, of course, wish to keep them, and I try to help in those cases, too.”

Griffin couldn’t believe it. “How unfortunate that you weren’t able to do the same for your own son.” He felt like he might choke to death on the irony of it.

Chloe peered at him earnestly. “Griffin, you must never believe that I didn’t want to stay with you. I did, with all my heart. But Uncle Bartholomew wouldn’t allow it.”