The Regency Season: Decadent Dukes. Кэрол Мортимер

taunt me so, when I am already laid low?’

      Griffin gave an exasperated shake of his head. ‘I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.’

      ‘I am talking about this!’ She held up the bareness of her bruised arms. ‘And this!’ She pulled aside the already gaping neckline to reveal her discoloured shoulders. ‘And this!’

      ‘Enough! No more, Bella,’ Griffin protested as she would have lifted the hem of her gown, hopefully only to show him her abraded calves, but he could not be sure; an overabundance of modesty did not appear to be one of her attributes!

      ‘Bella.’ He strode slowly towards her, as if he were approaching a skittish horse rather than a beautiful young woman. ‘Bella,’ he repeated huskily as he placed a hand gently beneath her chin and raised her face so that he could look directly into her eyes. ‘Those bruises are only skin deep. They will all fade with time. And they could never hide the beauty beneath.’

      Bella blinked. ‘Do you truly mean that or are you just being kind?’

      ‘I believe we have already established that I am cruel rather than kind.’

      ‘I thought—I did not know what to think.’ She now looked regretful regarding her previous outburst.

      Griffin arched that aristocratic brow. ‘I am not a man who is known for his kindness. But neither am I a deceptive one,’ he added emphatically.

      She gave a shake of her head. ‘When I undressed for my bath and saw my reflection in the mirror I could only think that, by giving me such a beautiful name, you must be mocking me for how unsightly I look. I truly believed that you were taunting me.’

      ‘I would never do such a thing to you, Bella,’ he assured her softly as he drew her into his arms. ‘Never!’

      Bella breathed a contented sigh as she lay her head against the firmness of his chest, her arms moving tentatively about the leanness of his waist. He felt so big and strong against her, so solid and sure, like a mountain that would never, could never, be moved.

      ‘Who could have done this to me?’ She shuddered as she imagined the beatings she must have received.

      Griffin’s arms tightened about Bella as he felt her tremble. ‘I do not know.’ Yet!

      For he would learn who was responsible for hurting this young woman. Oh, yes, Griffin would find those responsible for her ill treatment. And when he did—

      ‘Do you think that—?’ She buried her head deeper into his chest. ‘Could it be that I am a married woman and that perhaps my husband might have done this to me?’

      That was a possibility Griffin had not even considered in his earlier deliberations!

      Perhaps because she had initially appeared so young to him.

      Perhaps because she wore no wedding ring on her left hand.

      And perhaps he had not thought of it because he had not wished for her to be a married woman?

      But he knew better than most the embarrassment of a cuckolded husband, and Griffin’s physical response to Bella was not something he wished, or ever wanted to feel for a woman who was the wife of another man. Not even one who could have treated her so harshly.

      Indeed, marriage could be the very worst outcome to Griffin’s enquiries regarding Bella; unless otherwise stated in a marriage settlement, English law still allowed that a woman’s person, and her property, came under her husband’s control upon their marriage. And, if it transpired that Bella was a married woman, then Griffin would be prevented by law from doing anything to protect her from her husband’s cruelty, despite his earlier promise to her.

      His arms tightened about her. ‘Let us hope that does not prove to be the case.’

      Bella had sought only comfort when she snuggled into the Duke’s arms, seeking an anchor in a world that seemed to her both stormy and precarious.

      Since then she had become aware of things other than comfort.

      The way Griffin’s back felt so firmly muscled and yet so warm beneath her fingers.

      The way he smelled: a lemon and sandalwood cologne along with a male earthy fragrance she was sure belonged only to him.

      Of what she believed must be his arousal pressing so insistently against the softness of her abdomen as he held her close.

      Was it possible that this gentleman, this breathtakingly handsome Duke, this towering man of solidity and strength, was feeling that arousal for her?

      Griffin became aware of just how perfectly the softness of Bella’s curves fitted against his own, much harder body. So perfectly, in fact, that she could not help but be aware of his desire for her.

      He pulled back abruptly to place his hands on the tops of her arms as he put her firmly away from him, assuring himself of her balance before he released her completely and stepped back and away from her.

      ‘I have important estate business in need of my urgent attention this morning, so perhaps you might find some way of amusing yourself until luncheon?’ He moved to once again sit behind his desk.

      He put a necessary distance between the two of them, while the desk now hid the physical evidence of his arousal.

      Hell’s teeth, he was an experienced man of two and thirty, and far from being a callow youth to be so easily aroused by a woman he had just met. He was also a man who would never again allow himself to fall prey to the vulnerabilities of any woman.

      That particular lesson had also been taught to him only too well. His softness of heart had been one of the reasons he had allowed Felicity to charm him into taking her as his wife. Unbeknown to him, Felicity’s father, an earl, had been in serious financial difficulties, and a duke could hardly allow his father-in-law to be carried off to debtors’ prison!

      Bella felt utterly bewildered by Griffin’s sudden rejection of her.

      Had she done something wrong to cause him to react in this way?

      Been too clinging? Too needy of his comfort?

      If she was guilty of those things then surely it had been for good reason?

      She felt totally lost in a world that she did not recognise and that did not appear to recognise her. Could she be blamed for feeling that Griffin Stone, the aloof and arrogant Duke of Rotherham, was her only stability in her present state of turmoil?

      Blame or otherwise, Bella now discovered that she had resources of pride that this austere Duke’s dismissal, the ugliness of her gown, or her otherwise bedraggled and bruised appearance, had not succeeded in diminishing.

      Her chin rose. ‘I believe I do like books, Your Grace.’ Stiltedly she answered his earlier question. ‘Perhaps I might borrow one from this library and find somewhere quiet so that I might sit and read it?’

      Griffin was feeling a little ashamed of the abruptness of his behaviour now. The more so because he had seen Bella’s brief expression of bewilderment at his harsh treatment of her.

      Before it was replaced with one of proud determination.

      Even wearing that overlarge and unflattering pale blue gown, her feet bare but for her stockings, and with her hair styled so unbecomingly, Bella now bore an expression of haughty disdain worthy of his severe and opinionated grandmother.

      The tension eased from his shoulders at that expression, and he settled back against his leather chair. ‘If you wish it you might ask Pelham for a blanket, and then go outside and sit beneath one of the trees in the garden. Although I advise that you walk on the safety of the grass until your new footwear arrives,’ he added dryly.

      Her look of hauteur wavered slightly as she now eyed him uncertainly. ‘I might go outside?’

      ‘You are not a prisoner here, Bella,’ Griffin answered irritably. ‘Any restrictions placed on your movements,