And he knew that feeling no longer had anything to do with thoughts of Bea remaining here in the company of Christian, and everything to do with—
‘My dears, what a lovely surprise it is to see you all gathered together in my drawing room!’ Francesca Latham swept into the room, blond head tilted at a haughty angle, blue eyes aglow with that mocking humour she so often favoured. ‘I could barely credit it when Shaw informed me of our exulted company, Latham.’ She moved to her husband’s side. ‘And I see dear Beatrix has also returned to us, in the company of the Duke of Sutherland.’ That hard blue gaze now settled on Bea.
Griffin had stood up upon that lady’s entrance. ‘I am sure that must be as much of a pleasant surprise to you as it was to Sir Walter?’
‘But of course.’ That hard blue gaze now met his challengingly.
Griffin placed his clenched fists behind his back as he resisted the urge he felt to reach out and shake the truth from this woman.
Now that he was here he knew he could not leave here today until he knew whether this woman was Bea’s friend or foe. And to hell with the politeness of manners! He was tired of this tedious social dance. He wished now only for the truth. ‘You had perhaps not expected her to be here at all?’
Lady Francesca shrugged her elegant shoulders. ‘I am sure Latham is not so strict as to begrudge Beatrix time spent with her new friends.’
Griffin’s nostrils flared. ‘But you, of all people, must know she was not staying with friends.’ No matter what the situation, whether Francesca Latham believed Bea to have eloped or been kidnapped, she almost certainly knew that Bea had not been visiting friends these past weeks.
‘Griffin—’
‘Rotherham—’
‘Is that not so, madam?’ Griffin ignored both Christian and Aubrey as they rose to their feet in protest at his blunt methods, his gaze now locked in a silent battle with Francesca Latham.
‘I am not sure I care for the way in which you are addressing my wife, Rotherham,’ Sir Walter blustered uncomfortably.
Still Griffin’s gaze remained locked with that hard and mocking one of Francesca Latham’s. ‘Your wife, sir, is either a liar or a traitor—and I for one wish to know which it is!’
‘Griffin?’ Bea looked up at him anxiously as he appeared to have forgotten everything the four of them had spoken of this morning, before she had departed for Latham Manor with Christian Seaton. Indeed, Griffin now appeared so coldly angry, as he and her aunt locked gazes, that it seemed the two of them had forgotten they were even in the company of others.
Implying a past rift much deeper than merely that he did not care for his neighbour’s wife.
It appeared so to Bea. And she could think of only one reason why such tension might have arisen between two such handsome people. A past love affair that had not ended well.
The idea of Griffin having been intimately involved with Lady Francesca so sickened Bea that she could raise no further protest regarding the bluntness of his conversation.
‘What on earth are you on about, Rotherham?’ Sir Walter was red-faced with anger. ‘You are either foxed or mad. Either way, you will apologise to my wife forthwith.’
‘I will neither apologise nor retract my statement,’ Griffin bit out harshly. ‘You will answer the accusation, Lady Francesca. And you will do so now.’
‘Remember my grandson, Griffin,’ Lord Maystone cautioned softly.
‘I have not forgotten,’ Griffin assured him gruffly. ‘As I have not forgotten the manner in which I found Bea, following her abduction and days of being held prisoner.’ His voice hardened as he continued to look coldly at Lady Latham.
‘Abducted? Held prisoner?’ Sir Walter looked totally bewildered. ‘But Beatrix has been staying with friends—is that not so, Francesca?’
Throughout the whole of this exchange Francesca Latham had remained strangely silent, a contemptuous smile curving her lips as she continued to meet Griffin’s gaze unflinchingly.
‘Is that so, Lady Francesca?’ Griffin now snapped scathingly.
She remained silent for several more long seconds before she gave a weary sigh as she stepped away from her husband and into the centre of the room. ‘Is there any point in my continuing with the farce?’ she finally taunted in a bored voice.
Griffin’s jaw tightened. ‘None whatsoever.’
‘Very well.’ She gave a disgusted shake of her head as she turned to look at Bea. ‘So you have been warming Rotherham’s bed for this past week.’
‘Do not make this situation any more difficult for yourself than it already is,’ Griffin warned through clenched teeth.
Hard blue eyes swept over him mockingly. ‘I do not in the least begrudge you the warmth, Rotherham,’ she drawled. ‘Why should I, when I had your wife warming my own bed for so many months before she died?’
Bea felt the colour leave her cheeks even as she saw Griffin stumble back a step.