Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(25)

“And how is your son?” Dominic said in a valiant effort to turn the conversation into more sedate channels.


Rose’s eyes gleamed with pride. “Sammy’s growing into a right big boy, sir, and that’s a fact. My man, Bill, as you’ll remember, is as proud as anything, too.”

At Griffin’s urging, Rose took a seat next to Miss Brightmore, who kindly prepared a cup of tea for Rose while they all chatted for a few minutes about babies in general and Sammy in particular. It was a surprisingly domestic if bizarre scene and Griffin had to give Miss Brightmore credit for treating Rose as an equal rather than as an object of contempt. But since domestic scenes bored him, he quickly turned the discussion to the matter at hand.

“Rose, it would appear that the baby will be staying here for a little while longer. I realize that you wish to return to work now that your son is close to being weaned, but this baby might still require your attention. Is that correct?”

The woman grimaced. “Right you are, Mr. Griffin. By my reckoning, he’s a little under five months old, although he’s a mite small, poor wee fellow. He’s ready to take some pap from a spoon or a pap boat, and that’ll help, but I’m thinking he won’t be ready for weaning for another month.”

Miss Brightmore, who had carefully pulled back the blanket to gaze at the baby’s face, glanced up at Rose with a concerned expression. “You believe he’s small for his age? Is he ill, do you think?”

Rose gave her a reassuring smile. “No, love. He latched on to me like a regular trooper the first time out, and he’s got a good appetite for sure. Now, I won’t say he’s not got a touch of the colick—”

“Don’t remind me,” Griffin muttered.

“—but he’ll grow out of that soon enough,” Rose said. “Some babies are just on the small side, and I fancy he’s one of them.”

“We’re most grateful for your help, Rose,” Dominic said in a serious voice. “You’ll be amply compensated, of course.”

Rose threw him a cheeky grin. “I never doubted it for a minute, love.”

When she waggled her eyebrows at Dominic, Griffin barely managed to stifle a groan. Even Dominic was starting to look a little strained around the eyes. Rose was a good-hearted woman and could be trusted to keep a weather eye on the baby, but she could try a man’s patience.

“Yes, well,” said Griffin, “we would be grateful if you could remain in the house for as long as necessary, Rose. Sammy can stay with you, or course, and Miss Brightmore will be responsible for the infant other than feeding him. She can stay in the bedroom next to yours so she can help you during the night. The rest of the staff will assist as needed, but the baby’s well-being will primarily fall on Miss Brightmore. Perhaps she can see to the rest of the necessary arrangements, whatever they might be.”

He fastened a sardonic gaze on Miss Prim and Proper, expecting her to bristle at his imperious tone. She, however, seemed to be completely taken with the baby, letting her hand rest lightly on his bundled form as she gazed into the little mite’s face.

“Miss Brightmore,” Griffin said in a pointed voice, “did you hear me? Are these arrangements acceptable to you?”

“What?” she asked in a distracted voice. She threw him a quick glance, barely seeming to register his presence.

That rather annoyed Griffin. He didn’t much like being upstaged by an infant, as ridiculous as it was to even think that way. “I asked if the arrangements I just outlined were acceptable to you.”