The Regency Season: Decadent Dukes: Rufus Drake: Duke of Wickedness / Griffin Stone: Duke of Decadence / Christian Seaton: Duke of Danger
Was it possible that he thought, because of the unusual circumstances of Bella being here with him at all, that her smiles and laughter belonged only to him?
That she now somehow belonged to him?
* * *
‘Bella?’
She stiffened and ceased her crying, but made no effort to lift her head from the pillow into which it was currently buried as she lay face down on the bed.
She made no verbal acknowledgement of Griffin’s presence in her bedchamber at all. Correction, his bedchamber. As all of this magnificent house, and the extensive estate surrounding it, also belonged to him.
And she, having absolutely no knowledge of her past or even her name, was currently totally beholden to him.
But that did not mean Griffin Stone had the right to treat her with such suspicion. That he could virtually accuse her of flirting with Arthur Sutton. Or worse...
The under-gardener had been nice. A young man who had not been in the least familiar in his manner towards her, but rather accepted her as a guest of the Duke, and had treated her accordingly.
Not that she could expect Griffin to believe that when his mind was so obviously in the gutter.
What had she done to deserve such suspicion from him?
Admittedly, the circumstances of their meeting had been unusual to say the least, but surely there had to be an explanation for that?
Even if she had no idea as yet what that explanation was...
Besides which, she was so obviously battered and bruised, it was ludicrous to imagine that any man might find her attractive in her present state.
Although, there was no denying that Griffin himself had physically reacted to her close proximity earlier.
Perhaps it was just that he was a little odd, if he was attracted to a woman who was covered in bruises!
Which was a little worrying, now that Bella considered the possibility fully.
The Duke did not look like a gentleman who enjoyed inflicting pain, but that was no reason to suppose—
‘I apologise, Bella.’
The bed dipped beside her as the Duke, obviously tired of waiting for her response to his initial overture, now sat down on the side of the bed.
‘Bella?’
Her body went rigid as he placed a hand lightly against her spine. ‘We both know that is not my name.’ Her voice was muffled as she spoke into the pillow.
‘I thought we had agreed that it would do for now?’ he cajoled huskily.
Until they discovered what her name really was, Bella easily picked up on his unspoken comment.
If they ever discovered what her name really was, she added inwardly.
Which was part of the reason she had been so upset when she’d returned to the house just now.
Oh, there was no doubting this aloof and arrogant Duke had behaved appallingly out in the garden just now; he had spoken with unwarranted terseness to Arthur Sutton, and had certainly been disrespectful to her. His implied accusations regarding the two of them had been insulting, to say the least.
Bella’s previous treatment, as well as her present precarious situation, meant that her tears were all too ready to fall at the slightest provocation...
Griffin Stone’s behaviour in the garden had not been slight, but extreme.
Bella slipped out from beneath his hand before rolling over to face him, hardening her heart as she saw the way he looked down at her in apology. She had been enjoying her time out in the garden, and he had now spoilt that for her.
For those brief moments she had spoken with Arthur Sutton she had felt normal, and not at all like the bedraggled and beaten woman the Duke had found in the woods the previous night.
Her chin rose challengingly. ‘Your behaviour in the garden—the cold way you spoke to Arthur Sutton, as well as to me—was unforgivably condescending.’
Griffin only just managed to hold back his smile as Bella administered the rebuke so primly. To smile now would be a mistake on his part, when Bella was so obviously not in the mood to appreciate the humour.
‘And wholly undeserved,’ she added crossly as some of that primness deserted her to be replaced by indignation. ‘You may well be overlord here, Your Grace, but that does not permit you to make assumptions about other people. Assumptions, I might add, that in this case were wholly unfounded.’
Oh, yes, this young woman was certainly educated and from a titled or wealthy family, Griffin acknowledged ruefully; that set-down had been worthy of any of the grand ladies of the ton!
Did Bella even realise that? he wondered.
Possibly not, when she had no knowledge of anything before her arrival here last night.
Appeared to have no knowledge, he again reminded himself.
There was still that last lingering doubt in Griffin’s mind regarding her claim of amnesia. Added to, no doubt, by his having just observed her in conversation with one of his under-gardeners.
What if she had been passing information on to Arthur Sutton? If her arrival here in his home had been premeditated?
Shortly before the assassination plot against the Prince Regent had been foiled several of Maystone’s agents had been compromised. Griffin had been one of them.
There was always the possibility that Bella had been deliberately planted in his home, of course. That she was here to gather information from him as to how deeply their circle had been penetrated.
And he was becoming as paranoid as Maystone!
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?
Chapter Four
Why was Bella so surprised to learn that the Duke of Rotherham had a wife?
He was a very handsome gentleman, and wealthy too, judging by the meticulous condition of this beautiful estate. Of course such a man would have a wife. A beautiful and accomplished duchess, to complement his own chiselled good looks and ducal haughtiness. And, no doubt, to provide him with the necessary heirs.
Was it possible he already had several of those children in his nursery?
Bella swallowed before speaking again. ‘I did not know... I had no idea... I had assumed—’ She had assumed that Griffin was unmarried. That the way she felt so inexplicably drawn towards him was acceptable, even as she acknowledged it was altogether impossible that that interest would ever be felt in return for the vagabond she currently was. ‘Why have I not yet been introduced to your wife?’
A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched cheek. ‘Obviously because she is not here.’
Bella felt totally bewildered by the coldness of his tone.
‘Then where is she?’
His eyes were now glacial. ‘She has been buried in the family crypt in the village churchyard these past six years.’
Oh, dear Lord!
Why had she continued to question and pry? Why could she not have just left the subject alone, when she could see that it was causing Griffin such terrible discomfort? The stiffness of his body, the tightness of his jaw, and the over-bright glitter of his eyes were all proof of that.
But no, because she was irritated with him over his earlier behaviour, those ridiculous assumptions he had made concerning her conversation with Arthur Sutton, she had continued to push and to pry into something that was surely none of her business. Into a subject that obviously caused this proud and haughty man immense pain.
‘Do you have children, too?’
His mouth tightened. ‘No.’
‘How did she die?’ Bella knew she really should not ask any more questions, but the look on Griffin’s face indicated that if she did not ask them now she might never be given another opportunity. And she wanted to know.
Besides which, Griffin could only be aged in his early thirties now, and he said his wife had been dead for six years, so surely that wife could not have been any older than her early to mid-twenties when she died?
‘She drowned,’ he bit out harshly.
‘How?’ Bella gasped.
‘I will not discuss this subject with you any further, Bella!’
Bella knew she really had pushed the subject as far as Griffin would allow, as he turned away to look out of the bedroom window.
She hesitated only briefly, her gaze fixed on the rigid set of his shoulders and unyielding back as she swung her legs to the floor, before rising quickly to her feet to cross over to where the Duke stood. ‘Now it is my turn to apologise.’ Her voice was huskily soft as she stood behind him. ‘I should not have continued to ask questions about something that so obviously distresses you.’
He made no response, indeed he gave no indication he had even heard her.
Bella waited for several long seconds before lifting her arms up tentatively and sliding them gently about his waist, hearing him draw in a hissing breath as she did so. She could feel the way that his body became even more rigid beneath her hands as she rested them on his abdomen.
Realising her mistake, she started to draw away.
‘No!’ Griffin’s hands moved up to hold those slender arms about his waist. ‘Stay exactly where you are,’ he ordered as his body relaxed against Bella’s warmth and the soft press of her breasts against his back.
It had been so long since any woman had voluntarily offered him the comfort of her arms other than for that brief prelude occasionally offered before the sexual act began.
Griffin’s eyes closed as he now savoured the sensation of just being held. Of having no expectations asked of him, other than to stand here and accept those slender arms about his waist. At the same time as Bella’s softness continued to warm him through his clothing.
Griffin had not realised until now just how much he had missed having a woman’s undemanding and tenderness of feeling. He had not allowed himself to feel hunger for those things that he knew could never be his.
He had to marvel at Bella, giving that tenderness and warmth so freely, when circumstances surely dictated she was the one in need of that comfort.
For the moment Griffin did not want to think about those circumstances, to give thought to the fact he knew nothing about this young woman. Why should he, when he had known even less about the women in whose bodies he had taken his pleasure these past six years? No, for now he intended to simply enjoy the moment.
Bella had not moved since Griffin had instructed her not to. But she still couldn’t stop thinking about the wife he’d lost so tragically.
Had Griffin been very much in love with her?
Had their marriage been a happy one?
Had Griffin been nursing a broken heart since losing his wife?
Could that broken heart be the reason he had never remarried?
‘Your thoughts are so loud, Bella, I can almost hear them,’ Griffin chided dryly.
‘Can you?’ she breathed shallowly, sincerely hoping that was not the case. Griffin seemed such a private man, so closed off within himself, that she was sure he would not appreciate learning of the many questions about him still raging inside her head.
‘Oh, yes,’ he murmured as he slowly turned in her arms.
Bella’s breath caught in her throat as she found herself so suddenly facing him. It had been so much easier to hold Griffin when she was not looking up into his mesmerising and handsome face.
When she could still breathe.
When her thoughts had not suddenly turned to mush.
When he could not see how her body was betraying her responses to him. Her face felt flushed, eyes fever-bright, and the tips of her breasts had become swollen and sensitive beneath the material of her overlarge gown. She also felt an unfamiliar sensation low down between her thighs.
Griffin’s large hands moved up to cup her cheeks as he tilted her face up to his, looking down searchingly. ‘Are you a witch?’ he murmured gruffly.
Bella could not look away from the compelling heat in those silver eyes. ‘I do not think so.’
He gave a slow shake of his head. ‘I think you must be.’
‘Why must I?’
His eyes darkened, his expression grim. ‘Because you have made me want you!’
Her heart leapt in her chest at the fierceness with which he delivered the admission.
There was such an unmistakeable underlying anger in Griffin’s voice, telling her that he resented those feelings.
Because he still loved his dead wife, and the desire he now felt for Bella was a betrayal to those feelings?
Or was his anger with himself rather than her, for feeling that desire for someone he did not know or completely trust?
He gave a humourless laugh. ‘You can have no idea how much I envy you, Bella!’
She blinked at the strangeness of the comment. ‘Why on earth would you envy me?’ At the moment she had nothing. No past.
No future. No name. Even the dress she was wearing belonged to another woman.
Griffin’s hands tightened against her cheeks. ‘Because your lack of knowledge about your past means you have no memory of pain or loss, either. Or the mistakes you might have made,’ he rasped harshly. ‘Because the blank of that past allows you to start afresh. To decide what that past might have been, and to make the future your own.’
That was one way of looking at this situation, Bella supposed.
Except she would much rather know her past. Whatever that past might be.
To not know who or what she was gave her the constant feeling of walking along the edge of a precipice, when one misguided step or action would hurtle her over the edge of that precipice to her certain death.
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. A movement Griffin followed hungrily, causing Bella’s heart to falter in her chest as she found herself suddenly unable to speak.
‘You are a witch,’ Griffin groaned throatily, no longer able to resist the lure of wanting to feel those lush and rosy-coloured lips beneath his own. He lowered his head towards hers.
Her gently parted lips felt as soft as rose petals beneath his, as he held back his hunger to plunder and claim but instead kissed her with restrained gentleness, her taste as sweet as the nectar between those petals. A nectar Griffin wanted to lap up greedily with his tongue.
Dear Lord!
Griffin groaned low in his throat, hungrily deepening the kiss as he felt the tentative sweep of Bella’s tongue against his own like hot enveloping silk, her arms now clinging tightly about his waist as she pressed the soft length of her body eagerly against his much harder one. So eager, so trusting.
Damn it, he had made a promise to Bella to protect her while she remained in his household. And she had left him in no doubt that she now trusted him to ensure her safety. Even from himself.
It took every effort of willpower on his part, but he finally managed to gather the strength to wrench his mouth from hers, breathing heavily as he put her firmly away from him before releasing her.
He hardened his heart against the look of pained rejection in Bella’s reproachful gaze. If he weakened, even for a moment, he would give in to the temptation to take her back into his arms. And he knew that this time he would be unable to stop kissing her, touching her, caressing her, and it would end with him craving more than she was ready to give.
‘It is past time I returned to my study,’ he barked before turning sharply to cross the room to the door.
Bella reached out a hand to grasp the back of the chair nearest to her, barely able to stand on her own two feet. The onslaught of emotions she had known in Griffin’s arms had left her feeling light-headed.
‘I will be going out for some time after luncheon, paying calls to some of my neighbours,’ the Duke—for that was surely who Griffin now was; that aloof and disdainful Duke whom she had met this morning!—informed her distantly.
‘Do you wish me to accompany you?’ Bella had no idea how she felt about leaving the safety of this estate. Fear, perhaps, at going out into a world she did not know?
As much as she felt a nervousness at the thought of Griffin being nowhere nearby for her to call to if she should need him?
‘I believe, for the moment, you should remain here, out of sight,’ he dismissed coldly, his back still turned towards her as he paused with his hand on the door handle of the bedchamber. ‘You may pick some flowers from the garden, and bring them into the house, if you wish.’
There was no doubt in Bella’s mind that he made the concession as an apology. Whether that apology was for his mistaken accusations over Arthur Sutton, or for kissing her just now, she had no idea.
Either way, Bella did not need to be humoured as if she were a child!
She had been a willing participant in their kisses just now, and she had revelled in the experience, in the rush of emotions she had felt at being held so tightly in Griffin’s arms: pleasure, arousal, heat.
His rejection just minutes later had been as if a shower of cold water had been thrown over her.
She gathered herself up to her full height as she stepped away from the chair. ‘I do not wish, thank you.’
Griffin gave a wince as he heard the hurt beneath Bella’s haughtiness of tone.
Because he had called a halt to their kisses?
Because she had enjoyed them as much as he had?
But what other choice did he have but to stop? She was a young woman staying as a guest in his household. A vulnerable young woman he had offered his protection to for as long as she had need of it. She said she trusted him.
Yet surely he had just violated that trust?
He would not be accused of violating her too!
Griffin gave a terse inclination of his head. ‘Do as you please,’ he dismissed coolly even as he wrenched open the door to the bedchamber and made good his escape.
Bella blinked back the tears of self-pity that now blurred her vision. She would not allow herself to cry again.
She refused to cry simply because Griffin so obviously regretted kissing her.
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