He frowned as he once again firmly put thoughts of Felicity from his mind to turn and look at his butler standing in the doorway. ‘Show Sir Walter into the blue salon, if you please, Pelham,’ he instructed impatiently.
‘Very good, Your Grace.’ The butler bowed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
‘Sir Walter Latham?’ Bea repeated curiously as she closed her book.
‘A neighbour who was away from home when I called upon him three days ago,’ Griffin dismissed as he stood up from behind his desk to pull on his jacket. ‘He is obviously home again now and simply returning my visit to him. I think it might be for the best if you were to remain here while I speak with him.’
‘Of course.’ Bea readily agreed to the suggestion; she had absolutely no interest in meeting any of Griffin’s neighbours.
People who would no doubt be curious as to who she was, and what she was doing here.
People who might know Griffin well enough to know that he did not have a goddaughter named Beatrix.
Although she was a little disappointed at having their tranquillity interrupted. A surprising tranquillity, considering the unusual manner in which they had first met, and the uncertainty that still surrounded Bea’s past.
Her bruises were rapidly fading, and she no longer wore the bandages on her wrists and ankles, but unfortunately her memory beyond her abduction and imprisonment continued to remain elusively out of her reach.
By tacit agreement it seemed, the two of them had not referred again to Bea’s disturbed dreams of three nights ago, or of her having called out for another man. Bea felt distinctly uncomfortable at the thought she might have a fiancé pining away for her somewhere, and Griffin was no doubt respecting her own silence on the subject.
Consequently they had fallen into an easy routine during the past three days. Bea, in keeping with her decision not to be any more of a burden to Griffin than necessary, had chosen to suffer her sleepless nights in silence. Although she often fell asleep here in the library beside the fire during the daylight hours, reassured, no doubt, by Griffin’s presence across the room.
‘I am perfectly content to remain in here until after your visitor has gone,’ she now assured him lightly.
‘This should not take long.’ He deftly straightened the cuffs of his white shirt beneath his jacket, looking every inch the Duke in his perfectly tailored dark grey superfine, black waistcoat, pale grey pantaloons and highly polished black Hessians. ‘Amiable he might be, but one can only listen to so much of Sir Walter’s conversation on the hunt and the magnificent horse flesh in his stable!’ he added dryly.
Bea chuckled softly. ‘He sounds a dear.’
Griffin considered the idea. ‘He is most certainly one of the more congenial of my closest neighbours.’
‘And is there also a Lady Latham?’
‘She is something less than a dear,’ Griffin assured him with feeling, more than a little relieved that Lady Francesca appeared not to have returned as yet to accompany her husband on this visit to Stonehurst Park.
Why was it, he wondered, that amiable men such as Sir Walter more often than not burdened themselves with a controlling wife? An attraction of opposites, perhaps? Although Griffin could not claim to have ever seen much of that attraction in regard to Francesca Latham and Sir Walter!
‘Would you like me to ask Pelham to bring you some tea in my absence?’ he added briskly.
‘That would be lovely, thank you.’ Bea gave him a grateful smile.
Griffin drew in a deep breath as he felt himself bathed in the warm glow of that smile, before just as quickly giving himself an inner shake as he reminded himself that this current arrangement could only ever be a temporary one. That, in fact, he might not have the right to enjoy Bea’s companionship at all, or to wallow in the warmth of her smiles.
That those things might all belong to a man called Michael.
Hopefully Aubrey Maystone would have received his letter by now, and might at this very moment be making the enquiries Griffin had requested, and thus soon putting an end to the mystery that was Bea.
Griffin’s feelings on the subject had become mixed over these past three days. The longer Bea remained here at Stonehurst Park, the more he came to enjoy her company. At the same time it was foolish to do so, when at any moment her memories might come back to her, and she would then be returned to her former life, her time spent at Stonehurst Park, and with Griffin himself, both things she would rather put to the farthest reaches of her mind.
Griffin had ensured there had been no
opportunity for a repeat of the kiss they had shared that first day, but that did not mean he did not feel desire every time he so much as looked at her.
A desire that Bea, so innocently trusting, obviously did not see or recognise.
Or return.
‘I won’t be long,’ Griffin said harshly before turning sharply on his heel and leaving the room, instructing Pelham regarding Bea’s tea, and striding determinedly into the blue salon to join Sir Walter.
At the same time as he determined he must put all thoughts of kissing Bea again from his mind.