Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(45)

And when he’d looked at her with that dark, knowing gaze, so full of wicked temptation and intent, Justine had wanted . . . well, everything, even though she had no idea what everything even was. The strength of the impulse had scared the wits out of her, and brought her native caution slamming back.

And that was a good thing, since there could be nothing more ridiculous than a spinster firmly on the shelf developing a tendre for a scoundrel like Griffin Steele. The very idea of it was laughingly clichéd, as he’d made clear when he turned cool and dismissive. That was a humiliation she would not soon forget, and it served as a proper and timely warning. Soon enough, this unfortunate assignment would be over and she could return to her blessedly quiet life in the country, leaving any thought of him behind.


She stifled a self-pitying sigh and rose from her dressing table to fetch a shawl from the dresser and wrap it around her shoulders before she went to Rose’s room. But the connecting door opened and Rose stuck her head in.

“Miss, both Stephen and Sammy are asleep, so why don’t you go down and have your breakfast? I’ll wait here till you’re done and then I’ll take Sammy around to see his pa.”

“Oh, are you sure? Have you had anything to eat?” Justine asked doubtfully. She was almost afraid to go downstairs and could only pray that the master of the house was nowhere about. She needed more time to recover her equanimity.

Rose nodded. “Aye, if you just—” She broke off when she heard footsteps pounding up the stairs.

“Rose, where are you?” called a breathless female voice. “There’s trouble next door.”

Justine and Rose exchanged startled glances.

“That’s Maggie,” Rose said, “the housemaid at The Golden Tie.” She opened the door and a girl of no more than eighteen, simply but neatly dressed, fell into the room in a rush.

“You gotta come,” she exclaimed, grabbing Rose’s hands. “There’s customers come from last night and they’re raising an awful fuss.”

“Where is Deacon or Mr. Steele?” Justine asked. Maggie cast her a startled glance, then looked back to Rose for guidance.

“That’s the babe’s nanny. Now go on, girl,” Rose prompted. “Answer her question. Where are the men, or Mrs. Reeves?”

“Deacon and Mr. Steele went out, and Mrs. Reeves hasn’t come from home yet. Most of the girls were asleep, or they were until those louts forced their way in, raising a ruckus.”

“Is there not a footman or guard?” Justine asked. “Surely the girls have not been left unprotected.”

Maggie tugged on Rose’s hand, trying to drag her out the door. “There’s four of them, miss. One of them bashed Thomas over the head while the others rushed in.”

“What are they doing?” Justine asked, trying to get a better picture of the situation.

“One of them dragged Patience down to the parlor and he’s accusing her of stealing. Oh, do hurry, Rose.” Maggie practically danced with impatience. “They’re all top-heavy and raising a terrible fright.”

Rose’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “I’d best go, Miss Justine. If you’ll run downstairs and see if you can find Phelps or Joshua, I’d be much obliged.”

With disastrously impeccable timing, Sammy set up a startled, lusty wail. A moment later, Stephen added his healthy cries to the din.

“No, you stay here,” Justine ordered as she crossed swiftly to her dresser.

The fracas next door prickled all her instincts, telling her that she needed to make sure her charge was well protected. She might be overreacting, but she hadn’t grown up in a spy’s house for nothing. Papa had told her more than once that she had sound instincts and that she should follow them. Those instincts were shrieking at her right now, and with the baby’s safety in her hands, she couldn’t afford to ignore them.