Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(73)

Patience cast Rose a puzzled glance, but then nodded and started for the door.

“Wait,” Justine said, now even more curious than before. “Please tell me what you were about to say.”

Patience rolled a worried eye at Rose, who stopped her fussing and studied Justine with a cautious air. With a sense of foreboding straight out of a melodrama, Justine felt prickles of warning dance up her spine.

“If you don’t tell me,” she said, slowly rising to her feet, “I’ll ask Mr. Steele myself.”

A wary exchange of glances between the two women did nothing to calm the accelerated beat of Justine’s heart.

“Do you want me to tell her?” Patience finally asked Rose.

Rose grimaced and carefully set the clothing back on the bed. Clasping her hands in front of her, she came slowly to face Justine.


“Just tell me,” Justine said quietly.

“Oh, miss, it ain’t so bad as that,” Rose exclaimed, giving her a bracing smile. “I’m just not sure if it’s our place to tell.”

Justine grimaced. “Truly, whatever it is, I’d much rather hear it from you.”

Patience eyed her, and then sighed. “Well, Mr. Griffin’s father . . . he’s the Duke of Cumberland.”

Justine’s knees went slack and she thumped down in her seat. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t that.

“Cumberland?” she asked faintly.

“Yes, the royal duke,” Rose said carefully.

“And Prinny is Mr. Griffin’s uncle,” Patience added. Clearly deciding it was no longer necessary to leave, she plopped down on the bed, her face shining with the joy of imparting such spectacular news. “It’s ever so exciting, miss. Just think—Prinny himself will be your uncle by marriage.”

“On the wrong side of the blanket,” Rose said drily. “And it’s not like he and Mr. Griffin are bosom bows, especially since Prinny owes him so much money.”

“The Prince Regent owes Mr. Steele money?” Justine echoed. Her reeling mind, for some bizarre reason, latched on to that detail. Perhaps the other news was simply too stupendous to fathom.

Rose nodded eagerly, her inhibitions regarding sharing gossip about her employer seeming to vanish. “Lord, yes. He’s in deep to Mr. Griffin. He used to play at all Mr. Griffin’s clubs before they were sold. So did the Duke of Kent.” She flashed a sudden grin. “And Clarence and York too, for that matter. The lot of them didn’t much like the money they lost to a bastard nephew, but sometimes Mr. Griffin was the only one who would take their vowels. He used to joke that he enjoyed helping his family.”

Justine forced the next question past her cold lips. “And what of the Duke of Cumberland?”

Now that she’d had a few moments to absorb the news, she couldn’t prevent her ire from rising. At some point, either Griffin or Dominic should have mentioned this pertinent piece of information. Not that it would have made a whit of difference to the outcome of events, but the fact that they hadn’t bothered made her feel . . . diminished, for lack of a better word. Had it never occurred to either of them that she would want to know?

Rose looked a little grim. “Mr. Griffin doesn’t speak to his father, Miss Justine, and the duke doesn’t acknowledge him, as far as I know. Cumberland’s a right coldhearted sod, by all accounts. I’ve heard Mr. Griffin say so myself. He wants no truck with him.”

While she’d been speaking, Madeline Reeves had quietly opened the door and entered the room. From the look on her handsome face, she didn’t approve of the current discussion.