The Regency Season: Decadent Dukes. Кэрол Мортимер
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Nor was it an explanation that made sense, when Griffin considered those marks of restraint upon Bella’s wrists and ankles.
Alternatively perhaps she had been talking to Arthur Sutton in an effort to find some way in which she might leave Stonehurst Park without his knowledge.
And what if she had?
If Bella were to disappear as suddenly as she had arrived, then surely it would be a positive thing, as far as Griffin was concerned, rather than a negative one?
He would not have to give her a second thought this afternoon, for example, when he rode out to pay calls on his closest neighbours, in his search for information on Harker.
Nor would there be need to write to Aubrey Maystone in London to ask for his assistance, and possibly at the same time alert the other Dangerous Dukes to his present dilemma by doing so; in their work as agents for the Crown they all of them had or still reported to Maystone. Ordinarily Maystone would not discuss any individual agent’s business with a third party, but the older man was well aware of the close friendship between the Dangerous Dukes, and might feel obliged to mention his concerns to them.
The last thing Griffin wanted was for one or all of his closest friends to decide to come to Stonehurst Park to offer him their assistance.
Lord knew he had felt displeased, even proprietorial, merely watching Arthur Sutton in conversation with Bella, so how would he feel if any of his much more attractive friends were to come here and proceed to exert their considerable charms on her?
Admittedly only Christian Seaton, the Duke of Sutherland, still remained single out of those five friends, but Christian possessed a lethal charm as well as handsome looks. Women had been known to swoon when confronted by them.
‘What were you and Sutton talking about, Bella?’ Griffin demanded harshly, determined to remain in control of his wandering thoughts.
Bella frowned as she pushed herself up against the pillows; she felt at far too much of a disadvantage with Griffin looming over her in that way. ‘Should you not offer me an apology before making demands for explanations?’
The Duke’s jaw tightened. ‘I apologised a few minutes ago. An apology you chose not to acknowledge.’
‘Because it was far too ambiguous,’ she told him impatiently. ‘As it did not state what it was you were apologising for.’
The Duke closed his eyes briefly, as if just looking at her caused him exasperation. As no doubt it did. He had not asked to have her company foisted upon him, and whatever his own plans had been for this morning he had surely had to abandon them. Also because of her.
His eyes were an icy grey when he raised his lids to look at her. ‘It was not my intention to upset you.’
Bella raised dark brows. ‘Then what was your intention?’
Griffin wondered if counting to ten—a hundred!—might help in keeping him calm in the face of Bella’s determination to demand an explanation from him. ‘I was concerned that Sutton might have been bothering you.’
A frown appeared between her eyes. ‘How could that be, when I was obviously the one who had walked over to where he was working, rather than him approaching me?’
Griffin’s mouth thinned as he acknowledged that fact. ‘And I ask again, what were the two of you talking about?’
‘The weather, perhaps?’ she snapped, her irritation obvious.
‘I warn you not to try my patience any further today, Bella,’ Griffin rasped coldly.
Bella was deliberately provoking Griffin, and she knew she was. But with good reason, she believed.
She might not recall anything about herself, but this proud and arrogant Duke did not know anything about her either, and she resented—deeply—that, having seen her in conversation with Arthur Sutton, he had made certain assumptions regarding her nature.
She sat up fully to wrap her arms about her bent knees. ‘If you must know, I was asking Arthur for a trug and something to cut the flowers to put in it.’
‘Why?’ Heavy lids now masked the expression in Griffin’s eyes, but his increased tension was palpable, nonetheless.
‘This is such a beautiful house and the addition of several vases of flowers would only enhance—’
‘No.’
Bella blinked her uncertainty at the harshness of his tone. ‘No?’
‘No.’ He stood up abruptly, towering over her, his hands linked behind his back as he once again looked down the length of his aristocratic nose at her. ‘I do not permit vases of flowers in any of my homes.’
‘Why on earth not?’ She gave a puzzled shake of her head. ‘Everyone likes flowers.’
‘I do not,’ he bit out succinctly, a nerve pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw.
He was currently at his most imposing, his most chilling, Bella acknowledged. She had no idea why the mention of a vase of flowers should have caused such a reaction in him. ‘You are allergic, perhaps?’
His laugh was bitterly dismissive. ‘Not in the least. I am merely assured that the beauty of flowers is completely wasted on a man such as me.’
‘Assured by whom?’ Bella frowned her deepening confusion.
His eyes glittered coldly. ‘By my wife!’
His wife?
Griffin, the Duke of Rotherham, the man who had saved her from perishing alone and lost in the woods, the man she felt so drawn to, the same man who had physically reacted to her close proximity this morning, had a wife?
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