Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom

by Vanessa Kelly

  “Count Marzano, perhaps it would be best to start at the beginning,” Dominic suggested. “Then we can go on from there.”

  The Italian smiled. “Your wisdom in these matters is faultless, Sir Dominic, as I have so happily been made aware.”

  “Oh, good God,” Griffin muttered.

  Justine pinched his fingers. “Please continue, sir.”

  “Certainly, dear lady. As you may know, the duke, his mother the duchess, and their court have been living in exile for several years, displaced from their rightful throne by Bonaparte. Although their primary residence during exile was Vienna, the duke did spend part of last year in England. His mother wished him to travel, both for his own edification and to strengthen contacts with our great ally, the British Crown.”

  Justine frowned. “How old is the duke?”

  “He is now just twenty-three years of age,” the count replied. “His father died some years ago, leaving the duchess as regent. As you can imagine, all her energies these last years have gone to restoring the Duchy of San Agosto to the hands of her son, its rightful heir.”

  “And where does Stephen come into all this?” Griffin asked.

  “During his time in London, His Highness entered into a liaison with a young woman, the daughter of a merchant. The unfortunate result was a child,” the count said, grimacing with distaste. “The duke is a man of gentle and refined character, and he was quite unable to resist the lures put forth by this English temptress and her displays of easy virtue.”

  Griffin was torn between a desire to laugh at the idiot’s overheated rhetoric or level him a facer.

  “Actually,” Dominic interjected in an austere voice, “Sophia Bennett was, by all accounts, a lovely young girl from a good family. Her father is a prosperous linen-draper, and Sophia received a genteel education at a girl’s seminary. It was a sad day for her when she crossed the duke’s path.”

  Count Marzano’s mouth curled down in a sneer. “I am afraid we will have to disagree on that point, Sir Dominic, but I commend your loyalty to your countrywoman.”

  “What happened to Sophia?” Justine asked impatiently.

  Dominic glanced at Griffin, then answered with some reluctance. “When her parents discovered her condition, they disowned her.”

  Justine gasped. “They threw her out of the house?”

  Dominic nodded. “Sadly, yes.”

  Griffin swallowed, resisting the urge to punch something or someone—the count would do, but that would hardly help matters. Instead, he slipped his hand out from under Justine’s warm grip and stood, crossing to the window. He pretended to stare out at the street while he struggled to quell the fury burning in his chest. Christ, another innocent woman abandoned by those who should have protected her and her child.

  “An understandable reaction by her parents,” Count Marzano said. “Miss Bennett, however, was not left to starve. In his kindness, the duke set her up in a small house and provided for her needs until she gave birth.”

  “Thank God,” Justine sighed. “But I still don’t understand how little Stephen ended up on our doorstep. Why did Miss Bennett do such a thing if the duke was providing for her needs?”

  Griffin mentally blinked at her easy use of the phrase our doorstep, and he turned to look at her. All her attention, however, remained focused on Count Marzano.

  Dominic answered this time. “You’re making the assumption that Sophia was the veiled woman. From what the duke told Count Marzano, Sophia died of fever only a month after the child was born.”

  “Oh, no!” Justine covered her mouth in distress.

  Part of Griffin wished to stay as far from the others as possible, and from the ugly tale being told. But he couldn’t remain separate while Justine suffered. He sat down beside her, wrapping an arm around her. She pressed a hand to his chest as if both seeking and giving comfort.

  “Can we please get to the point of this sad tale, Count Marzano?” Griffin asked. “As you can see, this is distressing for my wife.”

  “I will attempt to be brief,” the count replied. “The duke was greatly saddened by the young woman’s death, despite the fact that he had come to regret the unfortunate affair. But at no time did he intend to relinquish his responsibility for Stefano. He wished to avoid the scandal, especially for his mother’s sake—the duchess is a devout Catholic, naturally, as are the citizens of San Agosto—but the duke had every intention of providing for the infant’s future. To that end, he procured the services of a respectable woman and a nurse to care for the child, and he was in the process of finding an appropriate family willing to take the child in, with compensation, of course.”

  “Of course,” Griffin replied, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Still, the duke didn’t sound like a complete bounder. Unlike Griffin’s father, he at least seemed willing to provide for the child. He supposed that counted for something.

  “Then how did Stephen end up here?” Justine pressed again.

  For the first time, the count’s easy assurance seemed to leave him. “The woman His Highness hired to supervise the baby’s care was not what she initially appeared to be. She disappeared with the child some weeks ago, and we have been searching for him ever since.”

  Griffin felt Justine stiffen against him. He couldn’t blame her. It was a damned suspicious explanation if he’d ever heard one.

  “Why the hell would she do that? It makes no bloody sense at all,” he said.

  The count looked offended, but Griffin had the distinct sense his behavior was a front.

  “As to that,” the Italian said, “I cannot say, since the woman has yet to be found. What is clear is that she was not in her right mind. Or perhaps she intended to blackmail the duke at some point, and was biding her time for when it best suited her. But, as you can imagine, the duke was greatly disturbed by the abduction. He wrote to me most urgently in Vienna and asked me to lead the search.” He made another self-deprecating gesture. “Very discreetly, of course, so as not to upset his mother or the members of the court.”

  Dominic finally stirred. “Although your desire for discretion is understandable, I regret you did not approach me or some member of the government earlier. This situation could have been cleared up with much less inconvenience to all parties if you had.”

  Justine made a choked little noise. Frowning, Griffin glanced at her. She looked up at him, white-faced, and then her gaze slid away. He went still and cold inside as he realized what she was thinking—what Dominic called inconvenience included their forced marriage, something that had changed her life forever.

  “It is to my everlasting regret,” the count said in a mournful voice.

  Carefully, Griffin removed his arm from Justine’s shoulders. She cast him a startled glance, then her gaze slid away again. Griffin clenched his fist, trying to ignore how that felt too much like a rejection.

  “Speaking of convenient, how did you find each other?” he asked Dominic with pointed emphasis. “Surely you didn’t stumble into each other by chance.”

  “Hardly,” Dominic said. “My research on the signet ring led me to believe that the family in question was the royal family of San Agosto. Once I made that discovery, it didn’t take long to determine that the man you saw at The Golden Tie was not, in fact, a representative of the Papal Nuncio, but a member of the Court of San Agosto, although not here in England in an official capacity. I then took the liberty of calling on Count Marzano. After some initial hesitation, he eventually explained the mystery regarding Stephen’s parentage.”

  Griffin had heard that tone of voice from Dominic before. He trusted the count as much as Griffin did—which was to say, not at all.

  “But this woman,” Justine said. “Why did she leave such a valuable ring behind?”

  “Alas, my dear lady, I cannot say,” the count answered. “I do not suppose we will ever know her reasoning since she has disappeared and we cannot find her.”

  “That’s convenient,” Justine muttered under her breat
h.

  “I beg your pardon, Justine. What was that?” Dominic asked.

  She shook her head. “Nothing. May I ask, Count Marzano, why the duke did not himself come to fetch his son?”

  “His Highness was called back to the Duchy of San Agosto, Mrs. Steele. With the fall of the Corsican Monster, the duchy is once more in rightful hands, and His Highness is needed back home. He decided that I should remain to search for Stefano.” He let out a dramatic sigh. “His Highness was most distressed at the thought of leaving the poor child behind, under such uncertain circumstances. Only the knowledge that I was to stay and look for him eased his concern.”

  “No doubt,” Justine replied. “Well, now that you’ve found him, what do you intend to do? Will you be placing him with a family here in England?”

  The anxiety that colored her voice had Griffin automatically taking her hand again. When her fingers gripped tight, the coldness in his gut started to fade.

  The count shook his head. “The duke is no longer comfortable with such an arrangement, given this unfortunate episode. Nor, sadly, have the maternal grandparents shown any willingness to accept the child into their household. Therefore, His Highness now insists Stefano be brought to Italy where he can personally see to his safety and proper upbringing. That is the only acceptable course of action.”

  “But Stephen could stay here with us,” Justine blurted out. “We would be happy to take care of him, wouldn’t we, Griffin?”

  She twisted around, peering up at him with a desperate sort of hope in her eyes. It killed him not to have a ready answer, but what could he say? If the duke was indeed Stephen’s father, was it not right for him to take responsibility for his son? Whether the poor little mite was illegitimate or not, the man seemed to have some proper feeling for him.

  “Justine,” he began.

  She pulled her hand away, hearing his hesitation. She jumped to her feet and took a hasty step toward Dominic. “Uncle Dominic, do you really trust this man after everything that’s happened? I can’t believe that you—”

  “Softly, my dear,” Dominic replied. He rose and took her hand.

  Griffin stood, too, resisting the impulse to shoulder Dominic aside and pull Justine into his arms. Count Marzano also stood, his distinguished features now coldly arrogant.

  “The decision has been made, Mrs. Steele,” the count said. “The child will be turned over to me, and we will then travel to his rightful home where you can be assured that Stefano will receive the best of care and attention. But it is our right to claim him. Since the mother’s family wants nothing to do with him, there can be no doubt.”

  Griffin rubbed his forehead, unable to ignore his instincts or Justine’s distress. “Dominic, are you sure about this?”

  Dominic hesitated, then grimaced. “There’s no doubt the Duke of San Agosto is the child’s father. I must also add that Count Marzano, after his initial meeting with me, asked for assistance from the Crown in expediting this matter.” He touched Justine’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, my dear, but there’s nothing I can do.”

  Griffin finally stepped around him and wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist. “Come, my sweet, sit with me.” She cut him a burning glance, her eyes shining with incipient tears, but didn’t resist when he led her back to the chaise.

  Count Marzano pointedly cleared his throat, his manner imbued with an arrogant air of satisfaction. “Now that the matter is settled, I will not intrude on you any further. Mr. Steele, I have a few matters to settle regarding the baby’s care, but I will return in the morning with a nurse.”

  “No,” Justine snapped out. “He’s only just recovering from a terrible fever, and the journey back to town tired him out. It wouldn’t be wise for him to leave the house for a few days.”

  When the count started to object, Griffin cut him off. “My wife is correct. Surely you would not want Stephen to fall ill, would you? I hardly imagine the duke would approve.” Griffin smiled, showing his teeth in challenge.

  “That does seem to make sense,” Dominic smoothly intervened. “I trust you have no objection, my dear count?”

  The Italian seemed to wrestle with his anger for a few moments, but soon controlled it. “Naturally, I would not want to endanger the child. Very well, Mrs. Steele, I will return to fetch Stefano the day after tomorrow. I trust he will then be fully recovered.”

  Justine’s eyes narrowed, but before she could retort Griffin squeezed her waist.

  “Until then, Count Marzano,” he said.

  Dominic escorted the man to the door, handing him over to Phelps, who had clearly been hovering in the hallway and no doubt listening. When Dominic returned, he dropped into the armchair with a heavy sigh.

  “Uncle Dominic, how could you?” Justine burst out, wriggling from Griffin’s embrace. “You know that man isn’t telling the truth! How can you possibly hand Stephen over to him?”

  “My dear, I hardly have a choice. The duke is the child’s father. There can be no reason to deny his rights, not without some clear proof that Stephen’s safety is under threat by him.” He grimaced. “And probably not even then, I’m sorry to say.”

  “But what about the woman who brought him here?” she said with a heartbreaking quaver in her voice. “Haven’t you found out anything about her?”

  Dominic shoved his hand back through his hair in an uncharacteristic gesture of frustration. “I have not been able to track her down, I’m sorry to say. I’ll keep looking, but—”

  “There must be something we can do,” Justine exclaimed, waving her arms.

  “Dominic, are you absolutely sure we have no other choice?” Griffin asked.

  The older man looked at him with disbelief. “Do you think I want to do this? I received orders directly from the Prime Minister on this. No one wants to embarrass the duke, especially over what is perceived as a private and relatively trivial matter.”

  “Trivial!” Justine’s voice broke on the word, and she covered her mouth as if to hold back a sob. Griffin reached for her, but she pulled away and stood up.

  Dominic sighed, rising. “My dear, I know how you’ve come to care deeply for the child, and I’m truly sorry. But—”

  She rounded on him, her pretty face blazing with a fierce light. “It’s got nothing to do with my feelings for Stephen. I’m convinced he’s in danger, and I believe you are, too.”

  “I do not know that to be the case for a certainty, despite the strange occurrences surrounding him,” Dominic said calmly and with a hint of his usual imperious manner. “And neither do you. I promise I will continue to investigate and do everything in my power to ensure the child’s safety. But you must trust me when I say I don’t have a choice right at this moment.”

  “There’s always a choice,” she retorted. Then she whirled and rushed from the room, slamming the door behind her.

  “Oh, well done, Dominic,” Griffin growled. He headed after Justine.

  “You should leave her alone,” Dominic said. “She needs time to calm down.”

  “You can shove that idea right up your arse,” Griffin tossed over his shoulder as he strode from the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Rose took one look at Justine’s face and carefully placed Stephen in her arms. “I fed him and he’s just dropping off,” she whispered.

  Justine simply nodded as she accepted the precious bundle and sank into the rocker by the cradle. Her chest and throat felt so tight she wondered that she could still breathe. As for speech, it seemed beyond her right now. Never would she have imagined that Dominic could dismiss her so abruptly, refusing to use his power to make the right choice. Even his power had limits, apparently, although a part of her refused to accept that. If the baby’s life was in danger, and she knew it was, then Dominic ought to have been willing to face down the devil himself to keep such an innocent safe.

  As for her husband, he seemed as suspicious of Count Marzano as she was, but he’d done little to intervene in the outcome. Only now had it oc
curred to her that perhaps he didn’t want to do anything. After all, he’d never asked for a wife and he’d never given any indication he wanted children. No matter how much Justine might hope that he would, such was clearly not the case.

  And that rejection, even though Griffin wouldn’t see it that way, made Justine want to take the baby and run. To hide from all the men who’d made her life so complicated and difficult.

  Rose crouched by the rocker, her open face and brown eyes alive with sympathy. “Come now, love,” she whispered. “Can’t be as bad as all that. You look like the world’s coming to an end.”

  Justine gazed at the baby in her arms, his thick fringe of black eyelashes fluttering down over his sleepy eyes. She didn’t want to let him go, but she could bear it if she knew he would be safe and loved.

  “Actually, that’s exactly what it feels like . . . the end of the world,” she said on a choked sob.

  Rose squeezed her arm but then glanced over her shoulder as the door opened behind them. When Griffin walked into the room, she hoisted herself to her feet and marched over to him, stopping him in his tracks by jabbing a finger into his chest.

  “I don’t know what’s going on,” she said in a fierce whisper, “but don’t you be upsetting Miss Justine any more than she already is. And don’t you dare wake that baby.”

  “I’ll thank you to keep any observations about my wife to yourself, Rose,” he retorted, also in a sharp whisper. “And if you have a particle of sense you’ll not presume to issue me orders under my own roof.”

  Rose snorted. “Now, there’s a threat to have a girl shaking in her boots.” Ignoring a fuming Griffin, she smiled at Justine. “I’ll just nip down and get a cup of tea, love. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit. And you,” she muttered to Griffin, glaring at him, “behave yourself.”

  He shook his head as Rose tiptoed from the room. “I must truly be losing my touch when the girls start issuing threats without a trace of trepidation.”

  “You don’t seem capable of exercising much power at all, at least not in this case,” Justine said in a quiet voice. Still, she knew she’d sounded bitter.