Griffin realised his mistake as soon as the older man left the room as the intimacy of earlier suddenly fell over the two of them like a cloak.
Bea knew a sudden discomfort at being alone with her dashing Duke. Well, he was not her Duke. Griffin was most certainly his own man. Self-contained, aloof, and demanding of respect. But he was her very handsome rescuer, and several times Bea had sensed an awareness between the two of them that was not avuncular. And earlier today he had kissed her.
‘The soup is delicious,’ she remarked to fill the sudden silence.
‘My cook here is very good.’ He smiled slightly, as if aware of her discomfort.
Because he felt it also? Bea would be very surprised if too much discomforted this confident gentleman.
‘Thank you for my new gowns.’ There had been three gowns in the box Mrs Harcourt had brought to her bedchamber earlier, two day dresses and one for the evening, the blue gown Bea was now wearing, along with undergarments, a shawl and slippers. ‘I hope—I hope that once I am restored to—to being myself again, that I shall be in a position to repay you.’
‘A few second-hand gowns altered by the local seamstress will not bankrupt my estate, Bea!’ the Duke rasped impatiently.
‘Nevertheless.’ Bea was not to be gainsaid on the subject; she had taken enough from this gentleman already, in the form of his kindness and hospitality, and she did not intend to be indefinitely in his debt financially too.
Griffin frowned his irritation with this conversation. ‘You must concentrate your energies on becoming completely well again, and not worry yourself over such trivialities.’
Her chin rose. ‘I assure you, they are not trivial to me.’
Griffin eyed her curiously. ‘I have a feeling that, whatever your true identity might be, you are an independent and determined young lady!’
The fullness of her lips curved into a rueful smile. ‘I would hope so.’
Griffin was sure that she was. He believed that many young women who had been as ill treated as Bea had would now be prostrate with the vapours. And possibly remain so for many days. Bea might feel that way inside, but outwardly she was calm and collected.
‘You have the courage and fortitude of a queen,’ he complimented huskily as he all too easily pictured the hovel in which she had been kept prisoner.
A blush slowly warmed her cheeks, lashes lowered over her eyes. ‘I do not feel like a queen.’
Griffin looked at her searchingly. ‘Something else is troubling you.’ It was a statement, not a question. ‘What is it, Bea?’ he asked sharply. ‘Have you remembered something else?’
Tears glistened in her eyes as she looked at him. ‘It is what I do not remember that now troubles me.’
‘Such as?’
She gave an abrupt shake of her head, no longer meeting his gaze.
‘I would rather not put it into words.’
Griffin frowned darkly. Bea had been physically beaten, emotionally tortured, what else could there possibly be to—? ‘No, Bea!’ he gasped harshly. ‘Surely you do not think—? Do not believe—?’
‘Why should I not think that?’ Bea dropped her spoon noisily into her bowl as she gave up all pretence of eating. ‘I was alone with these men, and at their complete mercy for goodness knows how long. Surely in those circumstances it would be foolhardy to assume that—that one did not—’ She could not finish the sentence, could not put into words this last possible horror of her captivity.
Once it had been thought of, Bea had been unable to put the possibility of physical violation from her mind. She had tried to appear calm as she’d joined Griffin in the dining room. Had been determined not to speak of her worries with him.
But the what-ifs had continued to haunt her.
To plague her.
Until it seemed it was all she could think of.
Griffin also looked suitably horrified at the possibility of violation as he now placed one of his hands firmly over both of her trembling ones clasped tightly together on her thighs. ‘Bea, I am sure that did not happen.’
‘You are no surer than I am!’ she instantly rebutted, eyes glittering. ‘I want these men found, Griffin. I want Jacob found and the truth beaten from him if he will not give it any other way!’ Two bright spots of fevered colour heated her cheeks.
‘Bea!’
‘If you will excuse me, Griffin?’ She pulled her hands away from his and threw her napkin on the tabletop before standing up noisily from the table. ‘I do not believe I am hungry, after all.’ She turned on her heel and almost ran from the room.
Griffin sat alone at the dining table, once again at a loss to know what to do where Bea was concerned.