Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(92)

Once Justine had wrestled her temper under control, Vivien had managed to convince her that she did need a new dress for tonight’s dinner party. Reluctantly, Justine had agreed, and Vivien had borne her away for a hasty fitting at one of the most fashionable shops in London.

When the dress arrived late this afternoon, Justine had been forced to silently admit that it was lovely. It was a shimmering, pale green satin in a fairly modest but flattering cut, trimmed with blond lace on the bodice and hem and tiny yellow fabric leaves scattered on the soft skirt. Griffin had clearly approved, his eyes sparking with heat as she descended the staircase to the entrance hall, pulling on her matching green kid gloves.

Of course, he’d then ruined the moment by ordering her back upstairs to remove the barely noticeable lace cap on her head. To avoid a fight in front of the servants, she’d complied, but evened the score by refusing to speak in the carriage on the way over. He hadn’t seemed to care a jot, leaving her to ruminate on the fact that her manners had taken a perilous turn for the worse since she’d fallen under his sphere of influence.

Fortunately, they’d managed to behave themselves at Lady Thornbury’s town house. Griffin had been surprisingly charming and compliant when introduced to her family and the select group of friends Lady Thornbury had invited.

Griffin had even refrained from snapping when Uncle William lamented their hasty marriage and Justine’s uncharacteristically reckless behavior. Her new husband’s eyes had narrowed, but Serena had intervened, carrying him off to introduce him to some of the other guests. Though Lady Thornbury had raised her eyebrows over Serena’s fulsome attentions, Justine could only be grateful that a crisis had been averted. She’d then turned her attention to soothing her uncle’s offended sensibilities, grateful for once to her odious cousin for keeping Griffin amused.

Well, she’d been grateful for a few minutes at least until she realized that Serena intended to monopolize Griffin, something he didn’t seem to mind at all. Justine shouldn’t care either, except for the fact that her blasted husband was supposed to be helping rehabilitate her reputation—and his, for that matter. How he sought to accomplish that by engaging in a vulgar flirtation, with his wife’s cousin no less, Justine was at a loss to understand.

Lady Thornbury finally brought the gruesome dinner to an end. “Ladies, shall we leave the gentlemen to their port?”

As the ladies rose to their feet in a rustling of expensive silks and muslins, Justine watched Serena turn and murmur something to Griffin as he stood politely behind her, holding out her chair. Whatever it was made him laugh. Justine jerked her gaze away, all too aware of an acidic resentment burning through her veins. As unbelievable as it was, she was apparently jealous of Griffin’s attention to her odious cousin.

“It’s only for show,” Aden said quietly as he helped Justine with her chair.

She stared at him, feeling blank. “What do you mean?”

He nodded in Griffin’s direction. “My cousin’s lamentable behavior with your cousin. He’s only acting like that because he’s uncomfortable. At this point, I suspect he’s ready to run shrieking from the house and into the street, as if rats were crawling up his backside.”

That forced a choked laugh from her throat. “He doesn’t look the least bit discomposed.”

Aden nodded. “I know, but appearances can be deceiving, as I think you realize better than anyone.”

She did, but she felt too twisted up to say anything coherent, so she simply gave him a grateful smile and followed the other ladies.

As she passed the head of the table, Justine glanced at her husband, and his gaze bore into her, intent and mocking. When she lifted her chin in defiance, he broke into a grin and lifted his wineglass to her in salute.