She released his hands before stepping away. ‘I shall need to go up to my bedchamber and pack what few belongings I now have. I shall have to give the excuse to my aunt and uncle that, having accepted the Duke of Sutherland’s protection for the journey, the rest of my luggage will be arriving later by carriage,’ she added with a frown.
Griffin still believed this whole concept, of Bea going to Latham Manor, was fraught with the possibility of mistakes being made, of someone getting hurt. Possibly Bea herself. Mistakes she, or Griffin, or even Christian, would not have any control over.
Which was not to say Griffin did not intend to find some way in which he might watch over her himself.
* * *
‘Do not scowl so, Griffin!’ Bea advised teasingly the following morning as she sat in the coach opposite Christian Seaton, prior to their departure for Latham Manor. She wore a pretty yellow bonnet over her curls to match her gown, with her hands and arms covered to the elbows by cream lace gloves.
She looked, in fact, to Griffin’s eyes at least, a picture of glowing health and happiness. All of the visible bruising had now faded from her creamy skin, and her eyes shone brightly with the excitement of what she was about to do.
As she stepped willingly—even eagerly—into a possible lion’s den.
Albeit with Christian at her side.
Griffin’s jaw tightened as he looked at his friend, seated across the carriage from Bea. ‘It is understood that at the first sign of danger you are to bring Bea away from there?’
The other man gave a mocking inclination of his head. ‘Do not fear, Griffin,’ he drawled as he stretched his legs out across the carriage. ‘You may rest assured I shall take good care of our little Bea.’
Griffin’s eyes narrowed at his friend’s obvious mockery. ‘You will send word immediately with Miss Baines if I am needed.’ He nodded in the direction of the young woman sitting beside Bea. She was a niece to his housekeeper, Mrs Harcourt, who had agreed to accompany Bea to Latham Manor as her maid. ‘I shall be visiting Sir Walter this morning, in any case.’ He was also well aware that he might possibly arrive too late, if there was an immediate reaction to Bea’s arrival. But this proposed visit to take another look at Sir Walter’s hunter was the best that Griffin could come up with in the circumstances.
At least this way he might have opportunity to be formally introduced to Bea as Sir Walter’s niece.
The irony of his eagerness now to be introduced to Sir Walter’s niece, when he had not cared to meet the daughters and nieces of any of his other neighbours, was not lost on Griffin.
Nor was the possibility of Lady Francesca Latham being involved in the plot to secure Bonaparte’s freedom.
Again Griffin questioned as to whether or not he was being influenced in this suspicion by his personal dislike of the woman. Lady Francesca had been far too much of a negative influence on his late wife, he suspected, in regard to their marriage, and him. And she’d enjoyed being so, if the mocking smiles Lady Francesca had so often given Griffin were an indication.
‘Is that altogether wise, Griffin?’ Christian frowned at Griffin’s proposed visit to Latham Manor.
Wise, or otherwise, it was Griffin’s intention to visit shortly after Christian and Bea had arrived. ‘I shall be calling upon Sir Walter this morning.’ He nodded.
‘As you wish.’
‘It is exactly as I wish.’ Griffin gave another terse nod before stepping back and closing the carriage door.
His last sight of Bea as she left Stonehurst Park—and him—was as she turned her head away from the window in order to answer something said to her by Christian.
‘Stay calm, Griffin,’ Aubrey Maystone advised softly half an hour later as he and Griffin travelled down the driveway of Latham Manor in the ducal coach.
Griffin stilled immediately as he became aware of the fact that he was sitting on the edge of his seat, as well as tapping his hat impatiently against his thigh. An impatience exacerbated by the fact that he had been forced to travel by coach at all, out of concern for Maystone’s health, when he would have much preferred the faster travel of horseback.
Truth was, he would have preferred to call upon the Lathams by himself, and he had told Maystone as much when the older gentleman had announced his intention of rising from his bed and accompanying him.
Maystone was not to be gainsaid, however, and in the end Griffin had no choice but to capitulate when he could see how pale and agitated the older man was in his need for news of his young grandson.
As agitated, in fact, as Griffin was in regard to news of Bea’s reception on her arrival at Latham Manor.
He shot Maystone an impatient glance. ‘I warn you now, I cannot answer for my actions if anyone has harmed so much as one hair upon Bea’s head!’ His teeth were clenched, a nerve pulsing in the tightness of his jaw.
The older man’s expression softened. ‘Perfectly understandable, when you are in love with her.’
‘I— What?’ Griffin looked at the other man incredulously. ‘Of course I am not in love with Bea,’ he denied harshly. ‘I am concerned for her safety, that is all.’
‘Of course you are.’
‘I have had to suffer enough of Christian’s sarcasm these past two days, and can quite well do without your adding to it!’ Griffin scowled darkly.
The older man gave an acknowledging nod. ‘It was not intended as sarcasm. Very well, I will say no more on the matter,’ he acquiesced as Griffin continued to glare coldly across the carriage at him, before politely turning away to look out of the window at the trees lining the driveway.
Leaving Griffin alone with his thoughts.
Was he in love with Bea?
Of course he was not! The mere idea of it was preposterous, ridiculous.
Preposterous and ridiculous or not, was it possible that the feelings of jealousy, of possessiveness, which Griffin so often felt where Bea was concerned, might indeed be attributed to a growing affection for her?
No!
He did not love Bea or any other woman. Nor would he ever do so.
And Bea?
Griffin had no choice, once this present situation had resolved itself, other than to allow Bea to return to Michael. The man she obviously loved.
After which she would likely not give Griffin so much as a single thought. Unless it was out of gratitude for having saved her from her abductors. And for having returned her safely to the man she would no doubt give the rest of her life, and her love, to.
‘We are arrived, Griffin,’ Maystone announced softly as the carriage came to a jostling halt at the end of the driveway.
Griffin barely managed to contain his impatience long enough to allow his groom to open the carriage door, and then wait while Maystone preceded him down onto the cobbled driveway, before quickly jumping down from the carriage himself.
He drew in a deep and steadying breath as he placed his hat back upon his head to look up at the grim grey-stone visage of Latham Manor.
Knowing that Bea was somewhere inside this inhospitable-looking house...
Chapter Fourteen
‘The Duke of Rotherham and Lord Aubrey Maystone,’ the Lathams’ butler announced from the doorway of the salon in which Bea, Christian and Sir Walter Latham sat together drinking the tea she had recently poured for them.
She and Seaton had arrived at Latham Manor just thirty minutes previously, to be greeted enthusiastically by Sir Walter. And in such a manner as to indicate that the gentleman had no knowledge of Bea’s abduction, but had in fact believed her to be visiting with friends.
Thus confirming Lady Francesca’s guilt?
Unfortunately they had no answer yet as to whether that was indeed the case; Lady Francesca was out this morning, paying courtesy calls upon her neighbours.
The questi
on now was whether or not Lady Francesca had actively lied to her husband regarding the reason for Bea’s disappearance two weeks ago. Or whether that lady herself believed that Bea had eloped, and she had merely told the lie of Bea visiting with friends in order to prevent her husband from worrying about his ward.
Sir Walter’s pleasure in having Bea back with him could not be doubted, nor his gratitude to the Duke of Sutherland for having escorted her here.
Now that Bea’s memory was returning to her she had recognised the rotund gentleman on sight, of course. And remembered him with affection, if not great acquaintance; her real acquaintance with Sir Walter had only occurred upon her parents’ deaths last winter, when he and Lady Francesca had attended the funeral and then, as her guardians, taken her to live with them in their London home. Sir Walter had not remained long in Town with the two ladies once the Christmas holiday was over, preferring to return to his country estate and his pursuits there.
Bea stood up now as Griffin entered the salon first, followed more slowly by a white-faced Lord Maystone; surely that gentleman should not have come here at all, when he had been ordered by the doctor to rest. Although Bea had no doubt Lord Maystone would feel less anxious if he was allowed to actively do something in regard to bringing about the return of his missing grandson.
‘Your Grace!’ Sir Walter greeted warmly, obviously slightly overwhelmed by the visit of yet more exulted company this morning.
‘Latham.’ Griffin nodded abruptly. ‘My recently arrived guest, Lord Aubrey Maystone,’ he introduced just as tersely, having eyes for no one else but Bea as she stood so still and composed across the room.
He could read nothing from her expression. Nor, as he glanced at Christian, did his friend give him any more than a shrug. One that seemed to imply frustration, rather than an indication that Christian had come any closer to learning the truth of this situation.
And the reason for that frustration soon became obvious as Sir Walter apologised because his wife, Lady Francesca, was presently not at home.
Lady Francesca’s many absences from home might be perfectly innocent, but Griffin sensed, more than ever, that the woman had information that would give them the answers to the reason for Bea’s abduction.
And might also lead to the whereabouts of Maystone’s young grandson.
‘More cups, if you please, Shaw,’ Sir Walter instructed the butler once he had made Aubrey Maystone’s acquaintance. ‘I am sure you gentlemen must both already be acquainted with my guest, the Duke of Sutherland,’ he continued jovially. ‘And please allow me to introduce my ward, Lady Beatrix Stanton.’
Griffin nodded abruptly to Christian before he quickly crossed the room to where Bea now stood. As if he had been drawn there by a magnet.
As indeed he had been; just this short time of Bea being out of his sight, out of his protection, had been a sore trial to his already frayed temper.
‘A pleasure to meet you at last, Lady Beatrix.’ He took the gloved hand she held out to him, holding her gaze with his as he brushed his lips across her knuckles while maintaining that hold upon her hand. ‘Sir Walter omitted to mention your beauty when he spoke of you.’
To say that Bea felt reassured upon seeing Griffin again, even though it had only been half an hour or so since the two of them had parted, would be putting it too mildly. His mere presence had the effect of making her feel safe.
Even if that feeling of safety was a false one.
Inside Latham Manor was, to all intents and purposes, almost as comfortably appointed as Stonehurst Park. Not quite so grandiose perhaps, but the furnishings were lavish, the paintings and statuary were also beautiful.
Even so there was a chill to the atmosphere in this house that had not been present in Griffin’s home, despite his not having visited there for some time.
That chill seemed to emanate from the fabric of the house itself, as if placed there by its owners.
‘I agree, dear Beatrix is everything that is charming and lovely, Your Grace,’ Sir Walter acknowledged Griffin’s compliment warmly.
Sir Walter appeared to be everything that was jovial and friendly, leading Bea to conclude that the chill of the house must have come from Lady Francesca.
During their months spent in London together Bea could not say that she had found the other woman to be of a type she might make into a bosom friend, but she had not found her to be unfriendly either. They were merely of a different age group, Lady Francesca nearing forty years of age, and Bea not yet twenty. Nor did Lady Francesca appear to possess the maternal instinct that might have drawn the two women closer together. That the Lathams’ marriage was childless perhaps accounted for the latter.
Bea had no idea if she was merely being fanciful about her aunt-by-marriage, or allowing some of Griffin’s obvious aversion to Lady Francesca to influence her own feelings towards the wife of her guardian.
No doubt they would all learn more upon that lady’s return.
Bea felt a blush warm her cheeks as she became aware that the other three gentlemen in the room were now eyeing her and Griffin curiously. No doubt that was because Griffin still had a hold of her hand.
‘May I pour you two gentlemen some tea?’ She deftly slid her fingers from between Griffin’s, before once again making herself comfortable on the sofa, waiting until Shaw had entered the room and placed the extra cups on the tea tray in front of her before pouring more of the brew.
She was barely aware of Lord Maystone’s acceptance as Griffin chose that moment to make himself comfortable on the sofa beside her.
The hard length of his thigh pressed warmly against her own.
‘Tea would be perfect, thank you, Lady Beatrix,’ he accepted huskily.
Bea turned slightly to give him a sideways frown from beneath her lashes. The two of them were supposed to have only now been introduced to each other, and from what she had gathered of Griffin’s relationship with his neighbours, and his indifference towards remarrying, she did not believe he usually singled out any of his neighbours’ nieces—for his particular attentions. Much more of this and Sir Walter would be demanding that the Banns be read on the morrow!
Aware of the reason for Bea’s censure, Griffin moved his thigh slightly away from her own. But he could not bring himself to move away from her completely, finding some comfort in at least being close to her.
‘I hear you have recently added a fine grey hunter to your stable, Sir Walter?’ Aubrey Maystone smoothly stepped into Griffin’s breech in manners after receiving his cup of tea. ‘You must allow us to see this fine horseflesh before we depart!’
Griffin took advantage of Sir Walter’s fulsome praise of the other man’s hunter in which to talk quietly with Bea. ‘You are well?’
‘Quite well, Your Grace,’ she replied quietly as she handed him his tea. ‘We only parted a short time ago,’ she added even more softly.
Griffin put the cup and saucer down on the table beside him untouched as he kept the intensity of his gaze fixed upon Bea. ‘And I have hated every moment of it!’
Bea gave him a searching glance, cautioning herself not to read too much into Griffin’s statement; he could just be once again referring to the danger she had placed herself in rather than any deeper meaning.
Such as that he loved her as she surely loved him?
Bea had known it for a fact the moment the carriage had pulled away from Stonehurst Park earlier this morning. Had felt an ache in her heart such as she had never known before. An emptiness that could only be filled by Griffin’s presence.
She loved him.
Not because she was grateful to him for having rescued her. Not because he had continued to protect her once he’d realised she had no idea who she was. Nor because they had made such beautiful love together.
She loved Griffin.
All of him. The bad as we
ll as the good.
His manners, for instance, could be exceedingly rude. His nature could occasionally be morose, even terse. As for his suspicions concerning her friendliness towards the gardener, Arthur Sutton, and Christian Seaton—they had been altogether unacceptable.
But there was a kindness to Griffin, a caring, that he hid beneath that gruff exterior. Perhaps because of his lonely childhood. Or the sad end to his marriage. Whatever the reason, Bea saw beneath that gruffness to the man beneath, and she loved him.
Unreservedly.
When all of this was over she did so hope that the two of them could remain friends, at least. She did not think she could bear it if they were to never see each other again.
But she must not let her own feelings for Griffin colour her interpretations of his comments. When he said he had hated every moment she had been away from him, he had surely meant in the role he had undertaken as her guardian.
‘Perhaps once Lady Francesca has returned we might all be better informed as to how we might proceed,’ Bea spoke again softly.
Griffin clenched his jaw at the mere mention of the other woman. ‘It is to be hoped so.’ He really did not think that he could leave Bea behind when he departed Latham Manor. Just the thought of it was enough to make him clench his fists in frustration.
And he knew that feeling no longer had anything to do with thoughts of Bea remaining here in the company of Christian, and everything to do with—
‘My dears, what a lovely surprise it is to see you all gathered together in my drawing room!’ Francesca Latham swept into the room, blond head tilted at a haughty angle, blue eyes aglow with that mocking humour she so often favoured. ‘I could barely credit it when Shaw informed me of our exulted company, Latham.’ She moved to her husband’s side. ‘And I see dear Beatrix has also returned to us, in the company of the Duke of Sutherland.’ That hard blue gaze now settled on Bea.
Griffin Stone: Duke Of Decadence (Dangerous Dukes Book 3) Page 18
