Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(162)

“Leave that to me,” Dominic said in a grim voice. “I’m sure I can talk sense into Marzano, once the situation is properly explained to him.”

Chloe let out a quavering sigh of relief as Griffin came to his feet.


“Thank you,” she whispered, her sensitive features alight with gratitude as she gazed at Dominic. Then she shifted her focus to Griffin. “Justine and the baby will be at the Hedgerow Inn, just east of Peckham. She will be known there by the name of Mrs. Piper.”

Griffin frowned. “That was your mother’s maiden name.”

“And has been my name for many years,” she replied quietly.

Dominic covered his eyes. “I never thought of that. What an idiot I am.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you for years,” Griffin said. “Now, do whatever it is you have to do to deal with Marzano. I’m going to fetch my wife.”

His mother rose in a swift, graceful movement, laying a hand on his arm. “Let me come with you. I can help.”

Her touch was light, but it jolted him nonetheless. Anger, bewilderment, and a stern sort of joy flashed through him. He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t have time for her. Only Justine and the baby mattered. Until they were safe, he couldn’t think of anything else.

He removed her hand from his sleeve. “Mother, the only thing I want from you right now is to stay out of my way.”

Forcing himself to ignore the pain in her eyes, he turned on his heel and strode from the room.





CHAPTER Twenty-Five



“Will there be anything else for you or the baby, Mrs. Piper?” inquired the innkeeper’s wife as she smiled at Stephen, who was nestled comfortably in the borrowed cradle.

“No, but thank you,” Justine replied after a moment’s hesitation. “I believe we have everything we need.”

She wasn’t even familiar with her true married name, much less that of the fictitious Mrs. Piper, a widow from Bath traveling to visit her in-laws. Justine had clearly failed to inherit her father’s more exotic talents, because all this skulking about with assumed names and identities had frayed her nerves.

Still, she was beginning to think she could match her father for reckless behavior. Kidnapping a baby and running away from one’s husband would certainly seem to qualify.

“If you need anything else,” said the pleasant-faced Mrs. Parks, “you just give a holler down the stairs. One of us will come up in a twinkle.”

Justine thanked her again, although she would not be hollering down the stairs or anywhere else. Chloe Steele had made it abundantly clear that secrecy could well mean the difference between life and death for little Stephen. Justine could only hope that the quiet little inn near Peckham was as safe and out of the way as it seemed.

She eased down on the hard, straight-backed chair next to the cradle. Her head was spinning with the events of the day—starting with the rise of her mother-in-law from the proverbial dead. Justine hadn’t been able to muster a coherent thought for a good two minutes after that particular revelation. And when she finally recovered her ability to speak, she’d stumbled into a morass of questions followed by the wild desire to drag Griffin’s mother back to the house on Jermyn Street. Chloe, however, had decisively taken control. She’d promised to answer all Justine’s questions, but only after the baby was safely hidden outside London.

Initially, Justine had been dead-set against the plan, and had insisted they should go immediately to Dominic for help. But Chloe’s intensely delivered arguments to the contrary had finally, if reluctantly, led Justine to agree with her. She certainly hadn’t needed any convincing that Stephen was in danger. The only question at that point had been how to kidnap a baby out from under the noses of vigilant servants and a husband with an uncanny sense of perception.