Читать книгу The Regency Season: Decadent Dukes: Rufus Drake: Duke of Wickedness / Griffin Stone: Duke of Decadence / Christian Seaton: Duke of Danger - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 21
Оглавление‘People do not just disappear, Bella,’ he now bit out grimly. ‘Someone, somewhere, knows exactly who you are.’
Bella supposed that had to be true; after all, she could not have just suddenly appeared in the world as if by magic.
Oh, but it had been so wonderful, just for those few brief seconds, to imagine being allowed to stay here. To remain at Stonehurst Park for ever, with this proud and arrogant Duke, who she was sure had a kind heart, despite the impression he might wish to give to the contrary. After all, he had not hesitated to care for her, despite the circumstances under which he had found her.
She felt sure that a less kind man would have handed her over to the local magistrate by now, in fear she might be a criminal of some sort, rather than allowing her to remain in his household. For if it transpired she was a thief, then he could not be sure she might not steal all the family silver before escaping into the night. And she might do so much more if she were more than a thief...
No, despite his haughty aloofness, his moments of harshness, and that air of proud and ducal disdain, Bella could not believe Griffin to be anything other than a kind man.
Besides which, she had not imagined the physical evidence of his desire for her a few minutes ago.
She looked at him shyly from beneath her lashes. ‘Then I can only hope, whoever they might be, that they do not find me too quickly.’
Exactly what did she mean by that? Griffin wondered darkly.
He had come to Stonehurst Park for the sole purpose of finding Harker; the last thing he needed was the distraction of a mysterious woman he found far too physically disturbing for his own comfort!
A conclusion he was perhaps a little late in arriving at, when that young woman currently stood before him, barefoot, and a guest in his home...
The mysteries of her circumstances aside, Bella was something of an unusual young woman. The slight redness to her eyes was testament to the fact that she had been recently crying, which he was sure any woman would have done given her current situation. But most women would also have been having a fit of the vapours at the precariousness, the danger, of their present dilemma. Bella appeared calm, almost accepting.
As evidence that she did not, as he suspected, suffer from amnesia at all?
He looked at her coldly from between narrowed lids. ‘The sooner the better as far as I am concerned.’
Bella frowned at the coldness of his tone. Just when she had concluded that Stone must be a kind man he did or said something to force her to decide the opposite. As if in self-defence?
She turned away to look at the shelves of books so that he should not see the hurt in her eyes, glad when the heaviness of her heart lightened somewhat just at the sight of those books. As proof that she did indeed like to read?
She took a novel down from the shelf. ‘I believe I shall read Sense and Sensibility. I have read it before, but it has long been a favourite of—’ Bella broke off, her expression one of open-mouthed disbelief as she realised what she had just done. ‘Oh, my! Did you hear what I said?’ she prompted eagerly.
The Duke’s mouth twisted without humour. ‘I believe that happens sometimes with people who have lost their memory. They recall certain likes and dislikes, such as a foodstuff, or a book they have read, but not specifics about themselves.’
‘Oh.’ Bella’s face dropped in disappointment. ‘I had thought for a moment that I might be recovering my memory, and so relieving you of my presence quite soon, after all.’
Griffin knew that he deserved her sharpness, after speaking to her so abruptly and dampening her enthusiasm so thoroughly just now. He had been exceedingly rude to her.
But what was he to do when he was so aware of every curve of her body, even in that ghastly gown? When she had felt so soft and yielding in his arms just minutes ago? When the clean womanly smell of her, after the strong perfume and painted ladies of the demi-monde, was stimulation enough? When just the sight of her stockinged feet peeping out from beneath her gown sent his desire for her soaring?
Why, just minutes ago he had been thinking of keeping her!
Damn it, he could not, he would not, allow himself to become in any way attached to this young woman, other than as a surrogate avuncular figure who offered her aid in her distress. Chances were Bella would be gone from here very soon, possibly even later today or tomorrow, if his enquiries today should prove fruitful.
He deliberately turned his attention to the papers on his desk. ‘Do not go too far from the house,’ he instructed distractedly. ‘We have no idea as yet who is friend or foe.’ He glanced up seconds later when Bella had made no effort to leave or acknowledge what he’d said.
‘What?’ He frowned darkly.
She eyed him quizzically. ‘I was wondering if that follows you around constantly.’
Griffin’s irritation deepened at her enigmatic comment. ‘If what follows me around?’ He had owned a hound as a child but never as a man...
‘That black thundercloud hanging over your head.’
Griffin stared at her for several long seconds as if he had indeed been thunderstruck. He had also, he realised dazedly, been rendered completely speechless.
Did he have a thundercloud hanging over his head?
Quite possibly.
There had been little in his past, or of late, for him to smile about. Nor, he would have thought, too much to cause amusement to this young woman either, but Bella now gave him a mischievous smile.
‘If that should be the case, I sincerely hope it does not rain on you too often.’
Impudent minx!
Despite his best efforts he could not prevent the smile of amusement from curving his lips, followed by a sharp bark of outraged laughter as Bella continued to look at him with that feigned innocence in her candid blue eyes.
Bella’s breath caught in her throat as Griffin began to chuckle, finding herself fascinated by the transformation that laughter made to the usual austereness of his face. Laughter lines had appeared beside now warm grey eyes, two grooves indenting the rigidness of his cheeks, his sculptured lips curling back to reveal very white and even teeth.
He was, quite simply, the most devastatingly handsome gentleman she had ever seen!
Perhaps.
For how could she say that with any certainty, when she did not so much as know her own name?
She gave a shiver as the full weight of that realisation once again crashed down on her. What if she should turn out to be a thief, or something worse, and last night she had been fleeing from imprisonment for her crimes?
She did not feel like a criminal. Had not felt any desire earlier, as she’d made her way through this grand house to the Duke’s study, to steal any of the valuables, the silver, or the paintings so in abundance in every room and hallway she passed by or through. Nor did she feel any inclination to cause anyone physical harm—except perhaps to crash the occasional vase over the Duke’s head, when he became so annoyingly cold and dismissive.
Except there weren’t any vases in this room, Bella realised as she looked curiously about the study. Nor had she seen any flowers in the cavernous hallway to brighten up the entrance to the house.
That was what she would do!
When she asked Pelham for a blanket to sit on outside, she would also enquire about something with which to cut some of the flowers, growing so abundantly in the garden she could see outside the windows, and she’d ask for a basket to put them in.
Just because she had no idea who she was, or what she was doing here, was no reason for her not to attempt in some small way to repay the Duke’s kindness in allowing her to remain in his home. And this beautiful house would look so much more welcoming with several vases of flowers placed—
‘What are you plotting now?’ Griffin’s laughter had faded as suddenly as it had appeared, and he now eyed Bella warily as he saw the light of determination that had appeared so suddenly in her eyes.
She frowned as her attention snapped back to him. ‘Why do you treat me with so much suspicion?’ She gave a shake of her head. ‘I know that the circumstances of my being here are unusual, to say the least, but that is hardly my fault, or a reason for you to now accuse me of plotting anything.’
Griffin heaved a weary sigh, very aware that he was projecting his wariness and suspicions onto Bella, emotions so familiar to him because of Felicity’s duplicity. Which was hardly fair or reasonable of him.
He nodded abruptly. ‘I apologise. Perhaps I am just tired after my disturbed night’s sleep,’ he excused ruefully. ‘Please do go and enjoy reading your book out in the garden, and try to forget that I am such a bad-tempered bore.’
Griffin was far from a bad-tempered bore to her, Bella acknowledged wistfully. No, the Duke of Rotherham was more of an enigma to her than a bad-tempered bore. As he surely would be to most people.
So tall and immensely powerful of build, he occasionally demonstrated a gentleness to her that totally belied that physical impression of force and power. Only for him to then address or treat her with a curtness meant, she was sure, to once again place her at arm’s length.
As if he was annoyed with himself, for having revealed even that amount of gentleness.
As if he were in fear of it.
Or of her?
Bella gave a snort at the ridiculousness of that suggestion as she glanced at him, and saw he was already engrossed in the papers on his desk. He did not even seem to notice her going as she took her book and left the study to walk despondently out into the garden.
No, the differences in their stature and social standing—whatever her own might be, though it surely could in no way match a duke’s illustrious position in society?—must surely ensure that Bella posed absolutely no threat to Griffin. In any way.
In all probability, the Duke was merely annoyed with being forced to continue keeping the nuisance of her, and the mystery of her, here in his home.
She had not asked to be here, or to foist the puzzle of who she was upon him.
Nevertheless, that was exactly what had happened.
But where else could she go, and how could she go, when she had no friends or money with which to do so?
* * *
Like a moth to a flame Griffin found himself getting restlessly back onto his feet and wandering over to the window within minutes of Bella leaving the library, the papers on his desk holding no interest for him whatsoever.
At least, none that could compete with his curiosity in regard to the mystery that was Bella.
She had already spread a blanket on the grass and was now sitting beneath the old oak tree he could see from the window, the book open in her hand, the darkness of her still-damp hair loose again about her shoulders, now drying in the dappled sunlight filtering through the lush branches above her.
What was Griffin going to do with her, if his enquiries as to her identity should prove unsatisfactory?
She could not remain here indefinitely; if it turned out that she came from a family in society, as he suspected she might, then her reputation would be blackened for ever if anyone should realise she had stayed in his home without the benefit of a chaperone or close relative.
Inviting his only close relative to come to Stonehurst Park and act as that chaperone was totally unacceptable to Griffin; he and his maternal grandmother were far too much alike in temperament to ever be able to live under the same roof together, even for a brief period of time.
Perhaps he should send word to Lord Aubrey Maystone in London? He worked at the Foreign Office, and was the man to whom Griffin reported directly in his ongoing work for the Crown.
The puzzle of Bella was not a subject for the Foreign Office, of course. Nor was it cause for concern regarding the Crown. But Maystone had many contacts and the means of garnering information that were not available to Griffin. Most especially so here in the wilds of Lancashire.
Except...
Maystone had been put in the position of shooting one of the conspirators himself the previous month, and after that he’d become even fiercer in regard to the capture of the remaining conspirators. If Griffin were to tell the older man about Bella, he could not guarantee that Maystone would not instruct that Bella must be brought to London immediately for questioning, for fear she too was involved in that assassination plot in some way.
He might never see Bella again—
His gaze sharpened as he saw that while he had been lost so deep in thought, Bella had risen to her feet and left the shade of the oak tree to walk across the garden. She now stood in conversation with the gardener who had been working on one of the many flower beds.
This was not the elderly Hughes, who had been head gardener here even in Griffin’s father’s time, but a much younger man Griffin did not recognise. A handsome, golden-haired young man, in his early twenties, who was obviously enjoying looking at Bella as that dark hair hung loosely about her shoulders, as much if not more than the conversation.
Just as Bella appeared perfectly relaxed and smiling as the two of them chatted together.
Griffin did not give himself time to think as he turned to stride forcefully out of his study to walk down the hallway, leaving the house by the side door usually only reserved for the servants, before crossing the perfectly manicured lawn towards the still-conversing couple.
A handsome young man and beautiful woman so engrossed in each other they did not yet seem aware of his presence.
Bella broke off her conversation and her eyes widened in alarm the moment she spied the tall and fiercely imposing Duke storming across the grass towards her, his face as dark as that thundercloud he carried around above his head.
Her heart immediately started to pound in her chest, and the palms of her hands felt damp. What on earth could have happened to cause such a reaction in him?
‘Your Grace?’ She looked up at him uncertainly as he reached her side.
‘Who are you?’
The glowering Duke ignored her, his countenance becoming even more frightening as he instead looked at the young gardener with cold and frosty eyes.
‘Sutton, Your Grace. Arthur Sutton.’ The young man touched a respectful hand to his forelock, his face becoming flushed under the older man’s cold stare.
‘You may go, Sutton.’ Griffin nodded an abrupt dismissal. ‘And I would appreciate it if you would take yourself off to work elsewhere on the estate for the rest of the day,’ he added harshly, causing the bewildered young man to turn away and quickly collect up his tools ready for departing.
Bella felt equally bewildered by the harshness of Griffin’s tone and behaviour. It was almost as if he suspected her and the gardener of some wrongdoing, of some mischief, when all they had been doing was—
‘Oh!’ She gasped after glancing towards the house to see that the library window overlooked this garden, and realised exactly what Griffin had suspected her and the handsome gardener of doing.
Bella made sure that the young gardener had walked far enough away out of earshot, before she glared up into the harshly drawn face looking down at her so condescendingly. ‘How could you?’
The Duke quirked that infuriatingly superior eyebrow. ‘How could I what?’
‘You know exactly what I am talking about.’ Bella sighed her impatience. ‘How can you have been so disgusting as to have thought—to suggest, that I—that we—?’ She was too angry to say any more as she instead turned sharply on her stockinged heels to run back towards the house.
Hateful man.
Hateful, suspicious, disgusting man!
Griffin stood unmoving for several seconds after Bella had departed so abruptly, totally taken aback by her reaction. To the anger she had made no effort to hide from him as she’d spoken to him so accusingly.
Why was she angry with him, when she was the one who had been—?
The one who had been what?
Exactly what had Griffin actually seen from the library window?
The beautiful Bella in her overlarge gown, with her gloriously black hair loose and curling down the length of her spine, in conversation with one of his under-gardeners.
A young and handsome under-gardener, accepted, but Bella had not been standing scandalously close to Sutton, nor had she been behaving in a flirtatious manner towards him. Admittedly she had been smiling as she chatted so easily with the younger man, but even that was not reason enough for Griffin to have made the assumption he had.
Could it be that he had been jealous of her easy conversation and laughter with the younger man?
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?
