Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(58)

“Good Christ,” Griffin muttered. “Of course she was recognized. She might as well have been wearing a sign around her neck announcing exactly who she was. I only wonder she didn’t sell tickets to the event.”

She crossed her arms over her breasts and gave him a sullen stare. “It wasn’t as bad as all that.”

“No, it was worse.”

Dominic held up a restraining hand. “Who identified her?”

“Mulborne, for one,” Griffin replied. “And Reginald Phillips and Sir Montegue Clarke.”

Dominic set his glass down on the small oval table next to his chair. “Ah, that is an unfortunate development.”

“Really, what difference does it make?” Justine said, practically bouncing in her seat. “It’s not like I’m going to be living in London anytime soon. Who cares who saw me?”

“It makes a great deal of difference,” Griffin replied, wanting to shake some sense into her. “Mulborne and his cronies have no doubt spread the news throughout the entire ton, by now.”

Dominic sighed, looking at Justine with a mixture of both affection and resignation. “I hate to criticize, my child, but it was perhaps not the wisest course for you to engage yourself in that particular situation.”

Justine’s shoulders slumped like a little wind-up doll that had just run down. As annoyed as he was with her, Griffin couldn’t help wanting to comfort her.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Dominic,” she said, sounding miserable. “But I didn’t know what else to do.”

Dominic leaned over and gave her hand a fatherly pat. “I’m sure you did exactly as you saw right, my dear.”

“Well, I did think so at the time. I had an odd feeling about it.” She shook her head, as if trying to make sense of it all. “Something seemed wrong to me, something to do with Stephen.” She looked at Griffin as if seeking confirmation. “That strange foreigner . . .”

Dominic shot Griffin a sharp glance. “A foreigner was among the company?”

Griffin nodded. “Supposedly someone attached to the Papal Nuncio, which sounded like bollocks to me. Why would a member of the Papal legation be visiting a brothel?”

“Nothing would shock me less,” Dominic replied in a dry voice. “Did you get his name?”

“Count Marzano,” Justine replied. “His behavior was very unsettling.”

“In what way?”

“First of all, he wasn’t inebriated. If he had spent the night carousing with Mulborne’s crowd, it didn’t show in the slightest. As well, he seemed a great deal more interested in me than he was in Patience or anything else going on.”

“He probably took you for one of the girls,” Griffin commented sarcastically.

To his surprise, she didn’t bristle. “No, it wasn’t like that. He seemed interested in a focused way. Not only in me but in his surroundings, too, almost as if he was looking for something.”

Dominic cast Griffin a look of silent inquiry.

“She might be right,” he admitted, sitting on one of the settees. “He certainly seemed to be out of place with that particular crowd.”

“What did he look like?” Dominic asked.

Griffin provided a description.

“I don’t recognize the name,” Dominic said in a thoughtful voice. “I know most of the members of the Papal legation and I can’t recall any who answers to your description.”

Justine leaned forward in her chair. “Do you think his presence had something to do with the baby?”