Because he was growing fond of Bea himself?
Griffin briskly dismissed such thoughts as nonsense. He merely felt responsible for Bea, and was concerned as to what had happened to her and why. Saddened for her, too, because she seemed to be so alone in the world.
Except she obviously was not as alone as he had thought she was. Because she was obviously concerned for—loved?—a man named Michael.
Did this Michael love her in return?
Of course he did; how could any man not fall in love with Bea if she chose to give her love to him?
Then where was this Michael now?
Why was he not the one here to comfort Bea when she was so lost and in pain? And why was he not ripping the country apart in his efforts to find her? To rescue her?
As Griffin was sure he would have done, in the same circumstances!
An obvious answer to those questions was that perhaps the other man was dead.
That the reason this Michael was not searching for Bea was because the people who had taken her might possibly have killed her lover during that abduction? It might even be that it was the shock of that death that was responsible for her amnesia, rather than the blow she had received to the head, or the horror of her abduction.
Bea gave a shake of her head, tears glistening in her eyes. ‘I do not recall knowing anyone named Michael. Who could he be?’ she added agitatedly.
‘Please do not upset yourself, Bea.’ Griffin heard the clock out in the hallway striking the hour of six. ‘I believe I must now return to my own bedchamber.’ He grimaced. ‘The maid will arrive with my morning tea very shortly, and my valet not long after, to prepare my bath and lay out my clothes.’
‘I— Of course.’ Bea blinked. ‘I have inconvenienced you far too much already, without the added scandal of your being found in my bedchamber at this hour, and in a state of undress.’
It would certai
nly be a first in this house for Griffin to be found in any lady’s bedchamber in the morning, he acknowledged grimly. Even in the early days of their marriage Felicity had rarely allowed him entry to her bedchamber, and when she did she had always insisted that he leave again immediately after one of their less than satisfactory couplings, with the claim that she could not possibly fall asleep with his bulk in the bed beside her.
As Bea had done so easily and comfortably the night before.
And making comparisons of the way in which the two women regarded him was not only unproductive but also painful. It was like comparing night and day, rain or shine, when Bea was so obviously daylight and sunshine, after the dark and stormy years of being Felicity’s barely tolerated husband.
His mouth tightened at those memories. ‘I really do have to go now.’ For the sake of his sanity, if nothing else! ‘We will talk of this further over breakfast, if you wish.’ He gave a terse bow before collecting up his boots and departing the room.
Bea was left momentarily stunned at the abruptness with which Griffin had left her. She felt guilty as she realised how her presence here was a constant inconvenience to him. Firstly, by his being forced into the position of becoming her saviour at all. And latterly, her presence here, an unaccompanied and young lady, surely bringing his reputation into question within his own household.
And who could this man Michael be? Someone she obviously felt an affection for, if she was calling out for him in her sleep. Perhaps he was a brother or other relative? Or a fiancé?
The thought of a fiancé caused Bea to go cold inside.
She had only known Griffin for a day, but it had been a significant and highly emotional time. And her attraction to him, her physical response to his having kissed her, her complete trust in him, could not be denied.
So perhaps her restlessness last night, her calling out for this man named Michael, had been because of a guilty conscience on her part, because she now found herself so inexplicably drawn to the man who had become her rescuer?
Whatever the reason, she resolved to be as little of a burden to Griffin as was possible in the coming days.
And nights.
* * *
‘Sir Walter Latham has called to see you, Your Grace.’
Griffin looked up from the papers on his desk to first look at Pelham and then to glance frowningly across his study at Bea, as she sat curled up in a chair beside the fire reading a book. He noted pleasurably how the afternoon sun made her hair appear a particularly beautiful shade of blue-black against the pale lemon of her gown.
These past three days had been surprisingly companionable ones, with just the two of them sitting here together in the library during the day, he working on estate business, Bea quietly engrossed in her book, before they dined together in the evenings. Their conversations together had flowed surprisingly easily, Bea proving to be an intelligent woman, knowledgeable and able to discuss many subjects, despite her continued lack of memories of her own former life.
Much as Griffin had once imagined he would spend tranquil days and quiet evenings at home with his wife. Except Felicity had never wanted to sit companionably with him anywhere. In fact, towards the end of their marriage, it had become almost too much to expect her to even occupy the same house as him.