Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(74)

“And I would suggest that you have no truck with this topic,” Mrs. Reeves said in a reproving voice. “You know how Mr. Griffin feels about it.”

She placed the long drape of fabric she carried onto Justine’s bed before turning to speak sharply to Patience. “You’ve given Miss Justine more than enough help, my girl. Be off with you now.”

Patience gave Mrs. Reeves a pert sniff before sketching Justine a brief curtsy. “I’m sure I wish you much happiness on your wedding day, miss, and even more on your wedding night.” With a wicked little chuckle, she scurried out of the room.

Mrs. Reeves propped her hands on her hips and scowled at Rose. “I’m surprised at you, telling such Banbury tales. You know how Griffin feels about them.”

“They’re not lies, Mad, and Miss Justine has a right to know the truth,” Rose said rather defiantly.

“Perhaps, but it’s not up to us to make that decision,” Mrs. Reeves responded. “It’s up to Griffin. Speaking of which, he’s waiting downstairs for Miss Justine. I’ll finish up in here and take her down.”

Rose let out a disgruntled snort at being summarily dismissed, then gave Justine a swift embrace. “Good luck, miss. And if you want to talk about anything before tonight, you just find me later.”

She gave Justine a roguish wink, leaving no doubt as to what anything meant.

“I will,” Justine replied. She and Griffin would not be sleeping together, but she couldn’t fault Rose for wanting to help.

“I’m sorry if you found their gossip disturbing,” Mrs. Reeves said after Rose left the room. “I would disregard it if I were you.”

Justine couldn’t help giving her an incredulous glance as she retrieved her gloves and reticule from the dresser. “That would be difficult, under the circumstances. And I suppose I should be grateful that they did tell me, since Mr. Steele apparently didn’t think it necessary.”

Mrs. Reeves hesitated. “He doesn’t like to talk about it, you see,” she finally said. “Not with anybody. Most days, he tries very hard to forget exactly who his father is.”

Justine frowned. Although she could understand that one would have mixed feelings about such a parentage, it didn’t seem the worst of fates. The Duke of Clarence, for instance, was reputed to be very close to his children by Mrs. Jordan, and society in general was quite tolerant of any illegitimate offspring of the royal family. Some had even gone on to marry into the best families in the land.

But if that was the case, why was Griffin apparently such an outcast?

“Why won’t he speak of it?” she asked.

“Because he hates the Duke of Cumberland. He always has and I imagine he always will,” replied Mrs. Reeves. “And if I may give you a bit of advice, my dear, I would suggest you let the matter drop. Griffin rarely shows his anger, but that particular subject never fails to annoy him.”

While Justine digested that blunt warning, Mrs. Reeves deftly switched topics. “Now, enough of that dreary conversation,” she said with a smile. “I’ve brought you something lovely to wear.” She picked up the cloth she’d deposited on the bed, which turned out to be a hooded velvet cloak in a rich shade of hunter green. She held it up, displaying the white silk lining that gleamed in the light of the lamps.

“Griffin has forbidden you to wear your mustard color pelisse, especially on your wedding day,” Mrs. Reeves said with a smile. “So I’m lending you one of my cloaks. The color is perfect for you.”

Justine reached out a hand and stroked the beautifully soft material, her emotions wavering. It really shouldn’t matter what she wore today, and her pelisse was both warm and serviceable. Still, she had no desire to look like a complete dowd, even if her marriage was a little more than a fraud.