Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(71)

That had made her smile, which was a miracle, all things considered. Despite her worries that she was marrying a man whose values differed so greatly from her own, she had to admit that Griffin treated her kindly and was making as great a sacrifice as she to preserve her reputation. Thinking of it in that light, she’d decided it would be churlish and mean-spirited to return his gift, no matter how ill-suited it might be to her tastes. He clearly didn’t understand the first thing about her, but she couldn’t fault him for the well-intended gesture.

“I’ve never understood why people say they don’t like red hair,” Patience said after she’d peeped into Rose’s room to check on the sleeping babies. “I’d kill to have it. There’s many a gentleman who’ll pay extra for a girl with red hair, especially if it’s natural.”

“Really?” Justine asked, finding that hard to believe. “Why?”

“They think if a girl has a red—”


“That’s enough of that,” Rose interjected in a sharp voice. “Miss Justine doesn’t need you blathering on about such nastiness.”

“There’s nothing nasty about it if a gent knows what he’s doing down there,” Patience retorted. “In fact, it’s the nicest thing about the whole bloody lot, if you ask me, and don’t happen often enough.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Justine broke in when it looked like the two women were going to fall into an argument. She wasn’t entirely sure what Patience was talking about, but she was quite sure she didn’t want to discuss it, especially with two women who knew everything there was to know about sexual congress. What little Justine knew about the duties of the marriage bed could probably be contained on the back of a calling card. As irrational as it was, she had no desire to expose her ignorance, especially to the experienced Rose and Patience.

“There,” Rose finally said, admiring her handiwork. “You look as pretty as a picture, you do.”

Pretty was not a word Justine often heard, but Rose had done a lovely job with her hair. She’d pulled the mass into a loose, full knot on top of her head, with a few soft ringlets curling down the sides of her face and the back of her neck. It made her features seem less strained and angular. Justine thought it made her look younger, too, and somehow more vulnerable. She wasn’t sure she liked that last bit, but she had to admit it was how she felt at the moment.

She smiled at Rose’s reflection in the mirror. “It’s lovely, Rose. Thank you.”

“Psh, it’s nothing,” Rose replied. “But it needs a little something else, too.”

She fished in the pockets of her plain round gown and extracted a few delicate pins topped with dainty flowers made out of silk. “Here, these will finish it off nicely,” she said as she carefully placed the pins in the top knot.

When Justine started to protest that the decorations were unnecessary, Rose bluntly cut her off. “These are my very own, that my man gave me,” she said. “I want you to wear them today so you’ll feel special. Everything’s been done in so harum-scarum a fashion that we don’t have time to do things up proper for you. And Lord knows you deserve special today.”

On a sudden surge of gratitude and affection, Justine slid around in her seat and took Rose’s hand, pressing it briefly to her cheek. “Thank you, Rose. You’ve been a true friend, and I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“Here, now,” Rose scoffed in a gruff little voice, “no need to turn into a watering pot on account of a few pins. But you’re an out and outer, Miss Justine, and I don’t mind saying so. Most fine ladies wouldn’t give the likes of Patience and me the time of day. Mr. Griffin is a lucky man to be marrying such a fine woman like you.”