Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(80)

Taking Justine’s cold hand in his—her nerves were still getting the better of her—he drew her into the small circle waiting for them. When she cast him a troubled glance and parted her lips to speak, he gave her fingers a warning squeeze. She pressed her lips shut, and he gave her a swift, approving smile. In this matter, at least, they were true allies. Justine would want as little attention called to their marriage as he did.

“My dear lady,” Griffin answered in a bored drawl, “I assure you that a party in our honor is, while appreciated, entirely unnecessary.”

He drew Justine closer to his side. For a moment, she resisted, but then she capitulated. Griffin wasn’t afraid to admit he relished the feel of her soft, rounded body against his side.

“As I’m sure you can understand,” he continued, “I’m eager to have my wife all to myself, now and for the foreseeable future. Gallivanting about London is the last thing we want to do, isn’t it, my love?”

Her eyes narrowed, flashing cold fire at him and tempting him to laugh. Yes, she would no doubt make him suffer for this little performance later, but he would probably find that enjoyable, too.

“Quite,” she responded in a frosty tone. Griffin had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing.

“Please do not be a bigger fool than you already are, Griffin.” Dominic’s rasping voice cut through his amusement. “The party is a necessary step toward the rehabilitation of Justine’s reputation. And yours as well, I might add.”

Griffin froze, staring at the coolly determined look on Dominic’s face. Suddenly, all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. This had been Dominic’s plan all along.

He dropped Justine’s hand and crossed his arms across his chest. “Bloody hell, Dominic, you can forget that. I have absolutely no interest in your efforts to reform me, and you bloody well know it.”

Aden unleashed a sardonic grin at Dominic. “What did I tell you?”

Dominic ignored him, keeping his cold-as-crystal green gaze right on Griffin. “Yes, you have told me that, and more than once. But circumstances have changed, now, as you realize.”

Griffin just barely managed to choke back a truly foul oath—not in deference to the ladies but because Dominic had the right of it. He didn’t have just himself to think about now. But as far as he could tell, Justine was even less inclined than him to go through with some ridiculous farce introducing them to society. If they were successful in that mission, she would never gain an annulment.

“Uncle Dominic,” Justine said crisply, “I must agree with Mr. Steele. Neither of us has any desire to go about in public, or try to insinuate ourselves into society’s good graces. As experience has taught me, that is a waste of one’s energy.”

Her tone of disdain told Griffin everything he needed to know about Justine’s views of the ton. He was happy to realize that, in this matter at least, their interests fully coincided.

“In fact,” she added, “if we just leave well enough alone, I’m sure everyone will forget about us soon enough. But if we go out in public, it’s certain to create more gossip, not minimize it.”

Lady Thornbury took Justine’s hand, drawing her to sit on the elegant white and blue silk sofa set in front of the fireplace. The others followed her, Aden and Vivien sitting off to the side on a small, Grecian-style daybed, and Dominic across from the sofa in a matching armchair.

Griffin elected to remain standing, well apart from the group as he struggled to keep his fury under control. He knew he had a fight on his hands. Dominic had been trying for years to make him respectable, and only now did Griffin realize why the older man had seemed so eager to marry him off to Justine. Yes, it was necessary, given the circumstances that had led up to the decision, but Dominic had evinced a curious and quiet satisfaction in the proceedings that had left Griffin at a loss.