He was a duke, and a widower, and this was his primary ducal estate, and Bea’s dreams now indicated they would not discover who she was, or to what family she belonged, as quickly as he might have hoped. Bea could hardly continue to stay here without some further offer of explanation being made to his household staff as to the reason for her sudden presence in their employer’s home.
But surely her late arrival last night with the Duke, wearing only her soiled nightgown, gave instant lie to the claim she was his goddaughter?
If Pelham or Mrs Harcourt found his choice of explanation in the least surprising, then they gave no indication of it. The butler placed the tray of tea things on the table in front of the window, and the housekeeper placed the box containing Bea’s new gowns on the bed, both acknowledging their employer respectfully before departing the bedchamber.
‘I am sorry I could not pre-warn you of my announcement, Bea.’ He grimaced ruefully once they were alone together. ‘As I am sure you can appreciate, following this afternoon’s upset, some further explanation for your presence here now has to be given.’
As Bea also knew, without his having to say it, that Griffin was a man who disliked intensely having to explain himself to anyone.
As the powerful and wealthy Duke of Rotherham he no doubt rarely felt the need to do so!
Except Bea needed some further explanations herself.
Since waking she had several times thought of her dishevelled state when Griffin had found her the previous night. ‘Who undressed and bathed me last night, and then dressed me in a clean nightgown?’ she prompted slowly; she had certainly not been wearing the soiled or bloodstained garment from her dreams when she woke this morning.
‘I did,’ he dismissed briskly. ‘I thought it best that none of my household staff be made privy to your bruises or abrasions,’ he added abruptly as Bea’s eyes widened.
Instead this breathtakingly handsome man had undressed her before bathing her completely naked body.
That he had seen her in that dirty and disgusting state was humiliating enough. To think of him stripping her, washing her, and then dressing her in a clean nightgown was far too intimate to contemplate.
‘And my old nightgown?’
‘I gave it to Pelham and instructed him to burn it this morning,’ Griffin said coolly. ‘Do not look so aghast, Bea; Pelham has been at Stonehurst Park for most of my life. He is and always has been the height of discretion, and you may rest assured he will not discuss the matter with anyone else.’
Bea was far more concerned with Griffin having seen her total humiliation, her unwashed and bruised body, than she was with the kindly butler’s sensibilities.
She kept her eyes downcast as she turned away to look at the laden tea tray, noting the two cups and saucers. ‘Will you be joining me for tea?’
‘I think not, thank you,’ Griffin refused stiffly, accepting that Bea was unwilling to discuss this any further just now, and knowing it was past time he removed himself from her bedchamber.
Despite her earlier upset, and his claim now of being her godfather, it was st
ill not acceptable that he spend so much time alone with her in her bedchamber.
Even if a part of him wished to do so.
Being reminded of the intimacy of bathing her the night before, of kissing her, and holding her in his arms, listening as she talked of the nightmares, Griffin felt the tenuous strands of an emotional bond being forged between the two of them.
And it would not do.
He was not truly Bea’s godfather, but a healthy and virile man of two and thirty who was totally unrelated to her, and who had several times responded to her in a physical way that was definitely not in the least godfatherly!
They did not as yet know Bea’s true circumstances or age, but Griffin now felt sure she came from a good family, and that he was at the very least ten years her senior.
He had suffered through an unhappy marriage, and his experiences with women these past six years had not lessened that disillusionment in the slightest. He was distrustful of them at best, cynical at worst.
He had once believed that Felicity felt an affection for him, and that the two of them would be together for the rest of their lives. He had been fond of Felicity, if not deeply in love with her, and totally faithful and loyal to their marriage. Both had been thrown back in his face when Felicity had chosen another man’s affections and body over his own.
He would have to marry again one day, of course, if only to provide his heir, but Griffin was determined his second wife would be a woman for whom he held only respect, as the future mother of his children. Nor would he expect his duchess to feel any unwanted affection for him.
He had not been in the past, and he was not now, nor could he ever be, any young woman’s romantic image of a knight in shining armour.
Still, at the moment he was sure Bea must feel a certain gratitude towards him, an emotion based solely on his having rescued her the previous evening.
As such, his own physical response to her, as well as his growing feelings for her, were both totally inappropriate.
‘We will meet again at dinner, if you feel up to joining me downstairs?’ he asked coolly.