The Regency Season: Decadent Dukes

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?

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