Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(10)

Dominic took the matching chair opposite him. “I am pleased at the direction you’re heading in, Griffin. You’ve invested well and your fortune—your legal fortune—will continue to grow. But what I cannot understand is why you wish to leave everything behind to go haring off to parts of the world best left alone, now that you’ve so effectively consolidated your position.” He leaned forward, his gaze compelling. “Surely you know that’s not necessary. Given a little time and patience on your part, and some effort on mine, I have no doubt you’ll gain acceptance among even the first families of the ton.”

Even though Griffin had barely mentioned a word about his plans to anyone, Dominic had known for a long time that he wished to leave England—and his past—far behind him. As soon as Griffin’s business affairs were settled, he had every intention of catching the first ship sailing east to the Orient.

“I already come from the first family of the ton,” he replied. “I have no desire to interact with the rest of them, at least not outside the confines of a gaming house or brothel.”

Dominic’s eyes narrowed to flinty chips of emerald green, as they so often did when Griffin annoyed him.

“I know,” Griffin said with a mocking sigh. “I’m a trial. But I didn’t ask you here to speculate about my failings or my impending travels. An unfortunate problem has been deposited on my doorstep, and I’m hoping you can take it off my hands.”

Dominic stared at him for several seconds before he obviously decided on a tactical retreat. “So I understand. Phelps left a ridiculous message about babies and signet rings and veiled ladies. It sounded like a bad melodrama. I trust there really isn’t a baby, is there?”

Fortuitously, the door opened and Madeline entered with a blanket-swaddled bundle in her arms. She cast Dominic one of her most enticing smiles as she gracefully drifted into the room, looking as far from a madonna as one could imagine. Madeline had been trying for years to seduce Dominic, but the man had always seemed impervious to feminine wiles. That, however, had never stopped her from making her best attempt.

Dominic slowly stood up, a rare expression of surprise on his features. His glance jumped to Griffin’s face. “It’s not—”

“Of course it’s not mine,” Griffin snapped. “You know how I feel about that sort of thing.”

Dominic knew the circumstances of Griffin’s birth, and had once been close to Griffin’s mother. They also shared a mutual loathing for Griffin’s father, the Duke of Cumberland, younger brother of the Prince Regent. Dominic hated the duke for his seduction of Griffin’s mother when she was barely fourteen, and Griffin hated him for refusing to acknowledge his son or show even the least bit of interest in him or the girl he’d wronged.

Not that Griffin had any desire, at this point, for a relationship with his father. But that didn’t mean he still couldn’t hate the bastard. More than anything else the disgust he shared with Dominic for Cumberland had been the source of the strange bond that had formed between them over the years.

“Whose is it, then?” Dominic asked.

“Damned if I know.” Griffin waved Madeline closer, so Dominic could get a better look.

As she stood between them, gently rocking the sleeping baby in her arms, Griffin felt his heart twist in an unfamiliar and unwelcome manner.

He’d given up the more tender emotions years ago, knowing they could only do him harm. Sympathy was one of the worst, as far as he was concerned. It reminded him too much of pity. Loyalty he could understand and appreciate, and he did everything he could to foster that quality in his employees. That meant taking care of them and being attentive to their needs. But he didn’t need to feel affection for them. Griffin only needed to understand them, provide for them, and insist they be loyal to him. That philosophy had served him well over the years, and he had no desire to clutter it with mawkish sentimentality.