‘But those memories could return at any moment,’ Sutherland reasoned. ‘And we believe there are people who would like to ensure they do not.’
Griffin shook his head. ‘I have had the estate workers keep constant watch for strangers since the night I found her wandering in the woods and brought her here. They have assured me they have seen no one who doesn’t belong here in the immediate area.’
The other man raised blond brows. ‘Then perhaps the people in question are not strangers?’
Not strangers? Did that mean that the person, or people, who had abducted and harmed Bea might belong to the village of Stonehurst? That one of his own neighbours, possibly one of the ones whom he had visited just days ago, might be in cahoots with Jacob Harker, whom Griffin was still convinced had been Bea’s jailer?
It did make more sense if that were the case, than that Jacob Harker had randomly chosen one of Griffin’s own woodcutters’ sheds on the estate in which to hide and then mistreat Bea.
But which of his neighbours could have been involved in such infamy? One of those social-climbing couples he had visited, and whose only interest had appeared to be to show off their marriageable daughters to him? Or the jovial Sir Walter? One of Griffin’s own tenants? Someone who actually worked here in the house?
If it was the latter, then surely there would have been another attempt to silence Bea before now.
‘I believe you must be the one to accompany Bea this morning, Christian,’ he murmured softly as he heard her coming back down the stairs after collecting her bonnet. ‘While you are gone I will ride over to visit a neighbour who has invited me to come and admire his new hunter. It is a terrible bore, but there is always the possibility I might learn something new while I am there.’
‘Which neighbour would that be?’ Sutherland enquired casually.
Too casually?
Griffin studied his friend’s face as he answered him. ‘Sir Walter Latham.’
‘I do not believe I have ever met the gentleman.’
Had Griffin imagined it, or had something flickered in his friend’s eyes at mention of Sir Walter?
He found it hard to believe that Latham would involve himself in intrigue and kidnapping; Sir Walter cared only for his wife, his horses and his hounds—and not necessarily in that order!
He shrugged. ‘Latham does not care for London society and prefers to remain in the country. Although I believe his wife was in London for the Season.’ He could not keep the distaste from his voice as he spoke of the woman who had been such a close friend to Felicity.
‘You do not care for Lady Latham?’
Griffin’s jaw tightened. ‘She was a friend of my wife.’
‘Ah.’ Christian nodded knowingly. ‘No doubt the dislike is mutual, then?’
‘Without a doubt,’ he confirmed with feeling.
The other man chuckled wryly. ‘Marriage is a complicated business, is it not?’
‘Women in general are complicated, I have recently been reminded.’ Griffin grimaced.
The other man smiled. ‘Have no fear, Griff, between the two of us we will ensure that no harm comes to your Bea.’
‘She is not my Bea,’ Griffin bit out harshly.
‘No?’
‘No,’ he repeated emphatically.
No, nor would she ever be. Once Bea’s memory was restored to her, and this business was over with, she would be able to return to whatever family she had left.
And the mysterious Michael.
* * *
‘You really should not hold Griffin responsible for this present situation, you know,’ the Duke of Sutherland remarked quietly, Bea’s gloved hand resting lightly on his arm as the two of them strolled about the garden together.
No, Bea did not know.
She was grateful to Griffin for all he had done for her this past week, but that kindness could not excuse his deliberate silence over her identity. He did know now, she felt sure of it.
Nor could she forgive him for so easily dismissing the intimacies between them last night when he had spoken with Seaton.
Most of all she could not forgive him for that!
Their lovemaking had been beautiful. A true giving and receiving of pleasure such as Bea had never dreamt possible. A closeness she had believed must surely form a bond of some kind between the two participants.
Only for Griffin to have dismissed their time together so casually just minutes later.
Obviously it had not meant the same to him as it did to her.
Because he desired to make love to her but did not love her.
As Bea was so afraid she might have fallen in love with him.
And she was afraid, deeply so, that an unreciprocated love could only lead to heartbreak.
Her own heartbreak.
‘I am sure Griffin is more than capable of putting forward his own defence if necessary, Your Grace,’ she came back waspishly.
‘But he will not.’
Bea glanced up at the handsome gentleman at her side. ‘Why do you say that?’
He sighed. ‘Because Griffin does not believe himself to be deserving of anyone’s affection.’
Bea removed her hand from his arm as she turned fully to face him. ‘I beg your pardon?’
Sutherland grimaced. ‘Griffin and I have known each other for a long time, you understand. We were at school together.’
‘I did not know that.’
He nodded. ‘I do not believe I am being indiscreet by revealing that Griffin was placed in the school by his father when he was only eight years old. He was not a cruel man, merely elderly, and had been widowed since Griffin’s birth. He did not, I believe, know quite what to do with his young son and heir, other than to place him in the competent hands of first a wet-nurse, then a nanny, and, finally, school.’
‘But how lonely that must have been for Griffin!’ Bea frowned at the thought of that lonely little boy, motherless, and sent away from the company of his father at such a tender age.
‘Just so.’ Seaton grimaced. ‘We others did not join him until four years later. There were five of us altogether, all heir to the title of Duke. We were, and still are, a close-knit bunch. We became our own family, I believe, and have always looked out for each other,’ he added enigmatically.
Bea’s interest quickened. ‘Then you also knew his wife?’
‘I did, yes.’ Seaton’s expression became blandly unrevealing.
She nodded. ‘Griffin loved her very much.’ And no wonder, if he had led such a lonely childhood as Seaton had described. Griffin must have been so gratified to have someone of his own at last. Someone to love and want him.
Blond brows rose. ‘Did he tell you that?’
‘Well, no.’ Bea frowned. ‘But surely it is obvious?’
‘How so?’
She shrugged. ‘I understand it has been six years since his wife’s death, and he has not remarried in that time.’
‘Perhaps that is because one marriage was enough?’ the Duke drawled.
Bea gazed at him speculatively. ‘But surely it was a happy marriage?’
‘I believe that is something you must ask Griffin, not me.’
‘He refuses to talk to me of his marriage or his wife.’
‘And I will not speak of it, either.’ Sutherland grimaced. ‘My only reason for discussing Griffin with you at all is in an effort to persuade you not to think too harshly of him for his silence about you. We have been, all five of the Dangerous Dukes, bound in our actions these past five years by a higher authority,’ he added softly.
Other than God—and Bea did not believe Griffin or Christian Seaton to be overly religious men—what higher authority could there possibly be than a duke of the realm? Oh.
Bea looked sharply up at Seaton a
s she searched his handsome face for some indication that her surmise was correct. His expression, as he steadily returned her gaze, remained infuriatingly bland.
And yet the idea persisted that Griffin and his four closest friends had all—perhaps still?—worked in some way for the Crown.
It would explain so much about Griffin. The deft and efficient way in which he had dealt with her own unexpected and unorthodox appearance into his life. The fact that he had connections in London, like Lord Maystone, whom he might call upon discreetly to help him in discovering her identity.
It was perhaps also the reason Griffin had never married again; working secretly for the Crown could no doubt be a hazardous occupation, even in times of peace, as it now finally was. Already a widower, he was not a man who would allow his own actions to risk making his wife a widow.
Could that be the reason he was choosing to discourage her own affections?
No, it was more likely that Griffin simply did not feel that way about her.
But the rest of it?
Oh, yes, knowing Griffin she could well believe the rest of it.
Griffin was above all a man of honour, of deep loyalties, and once that loyalty had been given she had no doubt that he would never betray it. For anything or anyone.
‘I see.’ She nodded slowly.
‘I hope that you do.’ Sutherland gave a slight inclination of his head. ‘Griffin is a good man, and I should not like to see you treat him with unnecessary harshness.’
Bea gave a rueful shake of her head. ‘I believe you mistake our friendship, Your Grace. Circumstances have put Griffin in the role of an older brother to me, or—or an uncle.’
Blond brows rose up to the Duke’s hairline. ‘I trust you do not truly expect me to believe that?’
Bea could feel the blush in her cheeks at thoughts of last night. ‘Whatever Griffin has said to you in regard to me—’
‘I am sure you know him better than to believe he would ever be so indiscreet as to discuss his friendship with a lady with a third party. Even one of his closest friends,’ Seaton stated firmly. ‘But I do have eyes, Bea, and the power of deduction, and I do not believe that Griffin was behaving as an older brother or an uncle to you when I arrived late last night.’
The heat deepened in her cheeks. ‘That was all my own doing, not Griffin’s.’
‘Perhaps we should not discuss this any further, Bea?’ Seaton suggested ruefully. ‘Such conversations have the power of stirring the blood, I am far from London, and sadly the only beautiful woman in the vicinity is far more taken with my friend than she is with me.’
‘You are a flirt, sir.’ Bea could not help but laugh.
‘Indubitably.’ He gave an unrepentant grin as he once again placed her gloved hand upon his arm so that they might continue their walk about the gardens together.
But that did not mean that Bea did not continue to think of their conversation. For her heart to ache for the lonely little boy Griffin must once have been. For the sad and lonely widower he must also have been these past six years since he’d lost his wife.
For Bea to feel ashamed of her harshness towards him this morning, when she had spoken and treated him so coldly.
As no doubt the wily Duke of Sutherland had intended her to feel...
* * *
‘Yes, Bea?’ Griffin eyed her warily as she appeared in the doorway of the library, where he currently sat alone, drinking whisky and contemplating the unpleasantness of his visit to Latham Manor this morning.
She hesitated. ‘I am not interrupting anything?’
‘Only my thoughts,’ he acknowledged dryly.
Lady Francesca had arrived back at Latham Manor the previous evening, and, as Griffin had quickly learnt, her acerbic tongue had not been in the least tempered by having spent the Season in London, followed by several weekend parties on her leisurely journey back into Lancashire.
‘Thoughts I can well do without,’ he added dismissively as he stood up and indicated that Bea should enter and take her usual seat by the fire, before he sat down opposite her.
He had missed her company this morning, truth be told, allowing him to realise that he had become accustomed to her presence in the library as he worked on estate papers. Seeing her strolling about the gardens before he left, her hand resting companionably on Christian’s arm, had not improved his mood in the slightest. Finding Lady Francesca Latham back at home had only exacerbated his ill humour.
Nor had he learnt anything useful from the visit. Sir Walter was his usual jovial self, even more so now that his wife was returned to Lancashire, but the lady’s jarring presence had not allowed for any private conversation between the two gentlemen.
The only good thing about the visit was that Griffin had not had to suffer through meeting Lady Francesca’s whey-faced niece; she, no doubt having spent quite enough time in the company of her sharp-tongued aunt, had wisely chosen to remain a little longer at the home of one of her friends.
All in all, Griffin’s day so far had not been a successful one. Bea had opted to eat lunch in her bedchamber, and Griffin had absented himself from afternoon tea on the excuse that he was busy working on estate business.
‘I owe you an apology.’
Griffin tensed as he raised his gaze sharply to look searchingly at Bea. ‘An apology for what?’
She sighed. ‘I believe I was—unfair to you, both last night and this morning. The Duke of Sutherland was kind enough to explain a little about the restraints put upon the two of you, in regard to revealing my true identity.’
Griffin felt a certain satisfaction in hearing her still refer to Christian formally; he did not think he could have born to suffer through listening to Bea referring to the other man in a familiar way.
He was not so pleased with the rest of the content of her apology, however. ‘And how did Christian do that?’
Bea sensed the reserve in Griffin’s tone. ‘His Grace was not in the least indiscreet, Griffin,’ she hastened to reassure. ‘He merely helped me to understand that there is more involved in all of this than my own personal wants and needs.’
‘Indeed?’
Griffin sounded even more cool and remote when all she had wished to do was settle the unease that now existed between the two of them.
She had not forgotten overhearing his dismissal of their lovemaking last night, nor would she, but Christian Seaton had helped her to understand that there was a much broader picture to this situation, one that required she put her personal feelings of hurt to one side.
To be dealt with later.
She looked up at him quizzically. ‘You would rather he had not said anything?’
Griffin would rather he had been the one to do the explaining.
Feelings of jealousy rearing their ugly head again?
Feelings he did not have the right to feel.
Feelings he would be unwise to feel.
He looked at Bea closely, noting the pallor to her cheeks. ‘You have suffered no ill effects from our intimacy last night, I hope?’
‘No, of course not.’ Those cheeks immediately warmed with colour, her gaze avoiding meeting his. ‘What ill effects should I have suffered?’ she added waspishly.
Griffin, totally unfamiliar with a woman’s pleasure, had no idea. It had merely been something for him to say once he had noticed her pallor. Something he obviously should not have said, when it seemed to have inspired a return of tension between the two of them.
He grimaced. ‘I should not like to think that I had caused you any physical discomfort.’
‘I have no idea what you are talking about, Griffin,’ she dismissed impatiently, obviously in great discomfort at this moment, her arms tense as they rested on the brocade-covered arms of the chair, the knuckles of her fingers showing white as she tightly gripped
the wooden ends.
He stood up restlessly. ‘I am trying, in my obviously clumsy way, to put things right between us. To—to—I wish to have the old Bea returned to me!’ he rasped.
Bea had to harden her heart to the frustration she could hear in his voice, knowing she could never again feel so at ease in his company after the events of last night. Not because she regretted them in the slightest, because she did not. It was overhearing Griffin voice his regrets over those events that now constrained her.
He loomed large and slightly intimidating over the chair in which she sat. ‘Bea, if I could turn back the clock, and make it so that last night had never happened, then I would,’ he assured her with feeling. ‘I would do it, and gladly!’
Bea felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She had not thought that Griffin could hurt her more than he already had, but obviously she had been wrong.
A numbing calm settled over her. ‘If anyone is responsible for the events of last night, then it is me. You did warn me against proceeding, but I refused to listen. You are not to blame, Griffin,’ she repeated firmly as she stood up. ‘I have made my apology, now if you will excuse me?’
‘No!’ Griffin reached out to grasp hold of her arms as she would have brushed past him. ‘No, Bea, I will not, I cannot let you leave like this. Beatrix Stanton!’ he bit out grimly as she kept her face turned away from looking at him directly. ‘Your name is Lady Beatrix Stanton,’ he repeated, no longer caring about Christian’s warning of caution. Only Bea mattered to him at this moment, and putting an end to the estrangement between the two of them. ‘You are the daughter of Lord James and Lady Mary Stanton, the Earl and Countess of Barnstable.’
Her face paled as she stared up at him for several long seconds with dark unfathomable eyes before finally crying out, ‘Mamma! Pappa!’ Before very quietly, and very gracefully, sinking into a faint in Griffin’s waiting arms.
Chapter Eleven
‘Did you not consider how dangerous it could be to tell an amnesiac the truth so bluntly?’
‘Obviously I know now.’ Griffin turned to scowl his impatience at Christian as the other man restlessly paced the length of the library and back.
Griffin Stone: Duke Of Decadence (Dangerous Dukes Book 3) Page 14