Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(60)

His voice sounded bitter and harsh, but never had he regretted his chosen profession more than right now. For her sake, as well as his.

“I don’t care about that, and you know it,” she retorted, waving her hands. “But my family doesn’t know you like I do. They won’t understand.”

Her unintentional and generous candor gave him a jolt. Dominic, as well, if the look of surprise on his face was any indication.

“Then we’ll explain it to them,” Dominic finally said in a reasonable tone. “I’ll help you.”

Her gaze flicked between the two men. Griffin hated that her eyes held the desperation of a trapped animal, but there was no alternative course of action. He might be a right bloody bastard, but he’d never intentionally harmed an innocent, and Justine was as innocent as they came. Even more to the point, he refused to follow in his father’s footsteps. Cumberland had used Griffin’s mother, impregnating her and throwing her to the side without a second thought, ruining more than one life in the process. Griffin would be damned if he did the same. He’d do whatever he could to make the situation acceptable to Justine, but she had to understand that neither of them had a choice.

“But . . . but I’m sure you don’t want to marry me, either, do you?” she asked him in a pleading voice. Her face had gone as white as chalk and the freckles stood out like pinpoints of flame.

He glanced at Dominic who gave him a little jerk of the head, his features calmly set and implacable. Something in Griffin froze in a warning. He stared back at his erstwhile mentor in shock as realization struck him with a heavy blow.

Dominic wasn’t in fact upset at this turn of events. If anything, he looked almost . . . satisfied.

Christ.

Dominic had been trying for years to reform Griffin, but if he thought marriage to Justine would do the trick, he was in for a surprise. It would take a great deal more than marriage to a reluctant, innocent spinster to steer Griffin off his long-charted course.

He glanced down at Justine. Her pleading gaze remained fixed on him, her vulnerability so stark that it wiped away any temptation he had to respond cynically to the outcome of events. Instead, Griffin went down on one knee beside her and took her cold little hand.

“I won’t deny that this is a very odd situation indeed, or that I didn’t plan on marriage,” he said.

“Well, then—”

He touched a finger to her lips, silencing the words, although he couldn’t fail to hear her sharply indrawn breath.

“But I would be most grateful if you would consent to wed me, Justine,” he said in a grave voice. “I promise I will do my best to make you as comfortable and happy as I can.”

“But how?” she whispered. “How is this even possible?”

“It is entirely possible,” he said. “And we can discuss the details later, once you’ve had a rest. For now, all you need to do is say yes. Dominic and I will take care of everything else.”

She glanced up at Dominic, who stood over them. Whatever she saw in his face gave her no comfort. She blinked twice, then switched her attention back to Griffin. For a long moment, she stared at him, and then a weary resignation settled on her pretty features.

“It would appear I have no choice,” she said, her voice a strained imitation of her normal rich tones.

“None,” Griffin replied. Impatience stirred within him, and something more fundamental—a need for her to confirm what part of him already knew. That in some way he couldn’t yet define, she belonged to him.

She nodded, looking quietly and tragically shattered. “Very well, Mr. Steele. I accept your generous offer.”