‘Without a doubt,’ Sir Walter agreed jovially. ‘A house needs a woman’s presence in it to feel anything like a home— Ah, but I apologise, Rotherham.’ He frowned his consternation. ‘That was in particularly bad taste, even for me.’
‘Not at all,’ Griffin dismissed dryly, having become accustomed to Sir Walter’s bluntness over the years.
Besides which, Felicity’s presence in any of his ducal homes had always made them feel less like a home to Griffin, and towards the end of their marriage that had been reason enough for him to wish to vacate those houses rather than suffer being in her frosty company a moment longer than was necessary.
A feeling in direct contrast to these past few days of ease he had shared living with Bea.
Damn it, he did not live with Bea, she was merely a guest in his home until such time as he could reunite her with her family.
And her lover.
‘Although there is a rumour about the village that you have brought a young lady here with you this time?’ Sir Walter eyed him curiously.
Griffin had known that he could not keep Bea’s presence here a secret for long, despite his previous threats to his household staff regarding gossip.
The rarity of Griffin’s visits to Stonehurst was a cause for gossip in itself, and the village of Stonehurst was simply too parochial for it to escape the notice of the locals that a young lady had accompanied the Duke of Rotherham to Stonehurst Park. There was no doubt much speculation as to her identity.
‘I believe you are referring to my goddaughter.’ He nodded haughtily. ‘Her parents have both recently died, and I have now taken guardianship of her.’ Griffin felt no hesitation in enlarging upon the lie he had already perpetrated regarding the reason for Bea’s presence here.
‘She is but a child, then?’
‘Not quite,’ Griffin dismissed, having no idea of Bea’s precise age, although he did not believe she could be any older than twenty.
The older man’s eyes lit up with interest. ‘Then no doubt Lady Francesca, once returned, will wish to invite you both over to dinner one evening while you are here, so that my niece and your goddaughter might become acquainted?’
‘That will not be possible, I am afraid,’ he refused smoothly. ‘My goddaughter is still in mourning.’
‘But surely a private dinner party is permissible?’
‘I am afraid not. Bea’s emotions are still too delicate at present for us to give or receive social invitations. Another time, perhaps,’ he dismissed briskly as he stood up and rang for Pelham in conclusion of the conversation.
‘Of course.’ Sir Walter rose to his feet as he took the hint it was time for him to leave. ‘It really is good to see you back at Stonehurst Park again, Rotherham,’ he added sincerely.
‘Thank you.’ Griffin nodded.
‘You must at least ride over and see my new hunter when you have the time.’
‘Perhaps,’ Griffin replied noncommittally.
‘No doubt the young ladies in the area are also delighted at your return,’ the older man added dryly.
Griffin did not dispute or agree with the statement as Pelham arrived to escort Sir Walter out, knowing it was his title the young ladies coveted. And he had learnt his lesson the hard way, in that regard!
* * *
‘You did not return to the library earlier, once your guest had departed?’ Bea prompted curiously as she and Griffin once again enjoyed a quiet dinner together in the small family dining room, Pelham having just left the room to go to the kitchen to collect their main course.
Griffin had been feeling too restless, too impatient with his current circumstances, to return to his work in the library.
And Bea.
Because he had realised, as he’d refused Sir Walter’s dinner invitation on behalf of Bea as well as himself, that his protectiveness where Bea was concerned, his possessiveness towards her, the desire he felt for her, were growing deeper as each day passed.
And it was fast becoming an intolerable situation.
One that surely could not continue for much longer, without the danger of doing something he would sorely regret!
It certainly did not help that several more gowns had been delivered to Bea just yesterday, and that she wore one of those new gowns this evening.
Now that most of her visible bruises had faded, the pale peach colour of her new gown gave her face the appearance of warm and delectable cream, and her throat was a delicate arch, the bareness of her arms long and elegant. The darkness of her hair was swept up in a sophisticated cluster at her crown, with several loose wisps at her temples and nape.
She looked, in fact, every inch the beautiful and composed young lady of society that these past three days had convinced Griffin she truly must be.
A unprotected young lady of society, whom Griffin was finding it more and more difficult to resist taking in his arms and making love to!
‘I do have other ducal responsibilities besides you, Bea,’ he answered her with harsh dismissal. ‘I cannot spend all of my time babysitting and mollycoddling you!’
‘Of course.’ It was impossible for Bea not to hear and inwardly flinch at the impatience in Griffin’s tone. Or to feel hurt at being referred to as a responsibility. Even if that was what she so obviously meant to him.
It had been very silly of her to allow herself to grow so comfortable in Griffin’s company these past few days. So comfortable, in fact, she had hoped that their time together might continue indefinitely.
Griffin was a duke, and, more importantly, he was a very handsome and eligible one. Her presence here, her unknown origins, must also be curtailing his own movements. Was it so surprising he did not wish to be burdened indefinitely with the responsibility of a young woman he did not even know, and, moreover, one who might very well turn out to be anything, from a thief to a murderess!
Bea carefully placed her napkin on the table beside her plate before standing up. ‘I hope you will excuse me. I believe I have eaten enough for tonight.’
Griffin looked at her through narrowed lids as he stood up slowly, easily noting the pallor of her cheeks. ‘You are unwell?’
‘Not in the least.’ Her chin rose. ‘I am merely feeling a little fatigued.’
Griffin sighed at the distance he heard in her tone. ‘I did not mean to be harsh with you just now.’
‘You were not in the least harsh,’ she assured him with that continued coolness. ‘My presence here is a responsibility for you. And moreover it is one you did not wish or ask for.’
‘Bea...’
‘Please do not say any more just now, Griffin.’ Tears glistened in her eyes as she looked up at him. ‘Please allow me some dignity.’ Bea turned and fled the room rather than finishing the sentence.
Griffin was once again left standing alone in a room after Bea had fled it in tears. And feeling just as impotent as to know what to do as he had the last time. As he had done in the past on those occasions when Felicity had chosen to remove herself from his company after he had said or done something she did not like. Admittedly she had rarely been in tears, but always with an air of coldness that had told him quite clearly she could no longer tolerate his company.
What was a man expected to do in such circumstances as these?
Bea was not his wife, nor was she related to him in any way, but for the moment she was his ward, and those tears glistening in her eyes indicated that, even if she was not crying, she was at the least very upset.
Should he follow Bea, and once again offer his apologies for his harshness? Or should he leave her to the solitude she was so obviously in need of?
He had respected Bea’s need for solitude last time. Just as in the past Griffin had always respected Felicity’s obvious aversion to his company, and his apologies for having offended her in some inexplicab
le way, by choosing not to intrude upon her solitude. But Bea was nothing like Felicity, and furthermore Griffin was well aware that it was he who was now responsible for her upset.
Bea was, without a doubt, a woman of great strength and fortitude, as she had demonstrated by her survival of her captivity and beatings, followed by her eventual escape. But even she must have her breaking points, and it appeared that Griffin’s ill temper was one of them.
No doubt because he had become the only true stability in her world at present.
Griffin did not fool himself into thinking Bea felt any more for him than that. She was totally dependent upon him for everything, including the clothes she wore. At present, he was the only thing standing between her and the people who had abducted her. The same people who were no doubt searching for her even now. Unaware of her amnesia, they would hope to recapture her before she was able to tell anyone what had happened to her.
No matter that Griffin had been motivated by a sense of self-preservation just now, a defence against his increasing desire for Bea, he should not have been so short with her.
And whether she wished to see him again this evening or not, he did owe her an apology.
* * *
Bea was very aware that she had overreacted to Griffin’s comment just now. That she was being unreasonable in expecting him to be in the least bit happy with their living arrangements. As no doubt Sir Walter Latham’s visit earlier today had only emphasised.
Griffin had hardly left the four walls of Stonehurst Park these past three days, and usually only to go to the stables, or to talk with his estate manager. And rather than being able to relax and enjoy Sir Walter’s visit earlier today, he had likely been forced to be restrained in his manner and to keep the visit short for fear a misspoken word might reveal Bea’s presence here.
Whatever her own feelings of hurt just now she had behaved unreasonably by leaving the dinner table so abruptly, and she owed him an apology for possibly having caused him embarrassment when Pelham returned to the dining room and found her gone.
She drew in a deep steadying breath as she fortified herself for going downstairs and facing Griffin again.
Only to come to an abrupt halt the moment she opened the door to her bedchamber and found Griffin standing outside in the hallway, his hand raised as if in preparation for knocking.
She gave a nervous smile. ‘I was just coming downstairs to speak with you.’
‘As I am here to speak to you.’
Bea stepped back in order to open the door wider. ‘Please, come inside.’
Griffin stepped reluctantly into the bedchamber, aware that it was probably not wise. He noted how at home Bea had become in just a few days; there were combs and perfumes on the dressing table, the gown she had worn that day was draped over the chair, with a pair of matching satin slippers left on the floor beside it.
He turned back to Bea as she stood nervously in the centre of the bedchamber. ‘I feel I owe you an apology and explanation for my behaviour earlier,’ he began.
‘I wish to apologise for having been so unreasonable earlier—’
Bea broke off as she realised that they had both begun to speak at the same time. And on the same subject. ‘You have nothing to apologise for.’ She gave a shake of her head. ‘I am still somewhat emotional at the moment, and you have done so much for me already. My new gowns and slippers, the combs and perfumes.’
‘I do not require your gratitude, Bea!’ Griffin winced as he realised he had spoken harshly yet again. ‘My impatience now, and earlier, is not with you, but due solely to frustration with this situation. I feel as if I should be doing more for you, not less, but until I receive word, or otherwise, from the friend I have contacted in London, my hands are tied.’ He paced the bedchamber restlessly.
Bea knew of the letter he had sent to a well-connected acquaintance in London a few days ago. ‘When do you expect to hear back from him?’ The sooner he did, the sooner Bea might have the information she needed to remove herself from Stonehurst Park; she would no longer be a burden on Griffin’s generosity.
She would be sad to leave here, and even sadder to leave Griffin, but had already accepted it was inevitable.
Griffin sighed. ‘Perhaps in another three, possibly four days. I realise that is a lengthy time,’ he acknowledged as Bea grimaced. ‘But I do not see how I can expect to hear news any earlier than that when we are two hundred miles away from London. And there is always the possibility that there will be no news at all, or that Maystone may be away from home when my letter arrives,’ he added grimly.
Bea accepted there might be delays that might occur in the delivery of Griffin’s letter. Even if his friend did receive the missive, there was no guarantee that he would be able to garner any information about her. If that should be the case, she had no idea what she was going to do next. She could not remain with Griffin; that would be expecting too much, even from a man as generous as he. In which case, she had a week at most in which to formulate plans for her own future.
‘You are not to worry about this, Bea.’ Griffin frowned as he saw her look of concentration. ‘There is no rush for you to leave here. You eat no more than a mouse, and are almost as quiet as one!’
A mouse?
Was that truly how Griffin regarded her? As a mouse?
Bea might have no memories of flirtation or society, but even so she was sure that being described as a mouse was not in the least complimentary. Or that she behaved in any way like one.
* * *
Griffin realised from Bea’s dismayed expression that he had somehow spoken out of turn again, when he had meant only to reassure. The dealings between men and women really were as volatile to him as a powder keg; he had not felt this much out of his depth even with Felicity.
Perhaps that was because he actually cared what Bea thought of him? Whereas he had known that nothing he did or said was ever going to find approval from Felicity.
He frowned his impatience with the idea. ‘That was not meant as an insult, Bea. Truth is, I have enjoyed the contented silence of your company these past few days,’ he acknowledged grudgingly, never having believed he would ever say that to any woman.
Her face brightened. ‘You have?’
Griffin once again acknowledged the danger of being alone with Bea in her bedchamber. Yet another habit he would have to break, if he was to continue behaving the gentleman.
Except his thoughts at this moment were far from gentlemanly!
He had enjoyed her company at the same time as he had been aware of everything about her. Bea’s skin was so soft and creamy, her figure so womanly, her manner towards him so warm, and he had been too long without the warmth of any woman.
The logical part of his brain knew not to extend this dangerous situation any longer and that he should leave the bedchamber forthwith; while the part of his brain ruled completely by his desire told him to take what was in front of him, and to hell with the consequences!
Would Bea accept or reject him if he were to take her in his arms and kiss her again?
Would she accept him out of gratitude, for all that he had done and was still doing for her?
Griffin did not want any woman to accept his kisses out of gratitude.
Bea frowned at Griffin’s continued silence. She believed that before her abduction she must have been a tactile person, a woman who liked to touch and be touched in return.
Because at this moment she wished for nothing more than to reach out and touch Griffin, to feel his arms close about her, to be crushed against the hardness of his chest and thighs, to lose herself in his strength and power, to feel wanted.
Was she imagining the hunger she saw burning in the depths of eyes? Was it possible he felt the same need for touch, for warmth, that she now did?
His wife had died six years ago but B
ea did not deceive herself into believing a man as handsome as Griffin would not have occupied many women’s beds in the years since.
Dared she hope, dream, that he now wished to occupy her bed, and it was only his sense of honour that was holding him back from doing so?
She moistened her slightly parted lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘Griffin...’
‘I have some estate work I need to complete this evening.’ Griffin’s expression was unreadable before he turned on his heel and walked to the closed door, his back towards her as he spoke again. ‘I will instruct Pelham to bring you up a light supper tray. You did not eat nearly enough at dinner.’
‘But, Griffin—’
‘I wish you a good night, Bea,’ he added firmly before opening the door and then closing it softly behind him as he left.
Bea felt the chill of disappointment at the abruptness of Griffin’s departure. It was intolerable when she wanted, needed, ached to be close to him.
If Jacob Harker or his accomplice had violated her during her imprisonment then Bea had no memory of it—thank heavens. She shuddered. What she did know, with all certainty, was that her body had become attuned to Griffin’s every move these past few days. Her breasts swelled beneath her gown as she sat in the study with him, and a fire burned between her thighs whenever she watched him walk across the room, his movements unknowingly sensuous and graceful. She ached low in her belly whenever she imagined his large hands upon her own body, caressing, cupping, stroking.
She was sure she would have had these feeling towards Griffin no matter what the circumstances under which they had met.
Was she a wanton, to have such yearnings?
Could the warm feelings she now felt towards Griffin be so very wrong?
Her life was already in such turmoil, did she really want to add to that confusion by complicating things even further?
The answer to that question was yes!
Griffin Stone: Duke Of Decadence (Dangerous Dukes Book 3) Page 10