Griffin Stone:Duke Of Decadence

‘You seemed to enjoy living at Stonehurst Park.’

Bea gave him a quick glance before turning away to look out of the window facing out towards the gardens at the side of the house. ‘I take it you will not be remaining there for long yourself, now that your other business is resolved?’ Indeed, she had no idea why Griffin had come back to Stonehurst at all, when there must be so much to do in London now.

Although she was not disappointed that he had; just to see him again, to be with him, to smell that unique smell that was Griffin—a combination of lemon, sandalwood and a healthy man in his prime—was enough to make her pulse beat faster. In fact, she would be surprised if Griffin could not hear the loud beating of her heart caused just by being near him again.

But it would be foolish of her to read any more into his visit to Latham Manor this morning than a courtesy call. To ensure that Bea was happy with her new guardian.

‘I have stepped down from my work for the Crown, Bea.’

She was frowning slightly as she turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. ‘You are perhaps tired of the intrigue and danger?’

Griffin gave a smile. ‘I believe I would describe it more that I have found a reason to live.’

Bea’s expression softened. ‘I am so sorry for the things you have learnt about your late wife. It must have been such a shock to you.’ She gave a shake of her head. ‘I cannot imagine—’

‘It was a relief, Bea,’ he cut in firmly. ‘Such a blessed relief,’ he breathed thankfully. ‘For years now I have blamed myself for the failure of my marriage, for not loving Felicity, or she me, so much so that she had preferred to take her own life rather than suffer to live with me another day. To finally know, even in such a way as I learnt the truth, that I was not responsible has caused me to hope—to dare to hope...’

Bea turned fully to face him, her gaze searching on his face as it now seemed to her that Griffin looked at her with hope in his expressive grey eyes. ‘What is it you hope for, Griffin?’ she prompted huskily.

His smile became rueful. ‘What every man hopes for, I suspect. To be happy with the woman he loves.’

Bea’s heart leapt once again in her chest. ‘And do you already have such a woman in your life?’

Griffin drew in a sharp breath, knowing he still had much he needed to say before he went any further with this conversation. ‘There are things I should tell you about myself, Bea. Things I have not shared, until very recently, with anyone beyond my closest friends. My father’s indifference to me during my childhood being one of them.’

‘You must try not to blame your father too much for that, Griffin,’ she put in quickly. ‘Christian told me a little of that situation,’ she explained guiltily as Griffin raised questioning brows. ‘He did not mean to break any confidences, he was merely trying to explain—to explain—’

‘The reason for some of my gruffness of nature, no doubt,’ Griffin guessed dryly.

‘I do not find you in the least taciturn, Griffin,’ she reproved primly.

‘No?’

‘You are everything that is amiable as far as I am concerned,’ she insisted.

‘Thank you,’ Griffin murmured huskily. ‘But we digress.’ He straightened. ‘Something else I never talked of was the utter failure of my marriage.’ He sighed. ‘I realise the reason for that now. I accept it. But for those two reasons I have for years believed myself to be unlovable rather than just unloved.’

‘Your friends all love you dearly,’ she told him.

‘Yes, I believe they do,’ he acknowledged softly. ‘But I had believed myself too dour, too austere, too physically overbearing, to deserve the love of any decent woman. I have lived my life accordingly, never wanting, never expecting, never asking for more than I had.’

The slenderness of Bea’s throat moved as she swallowed. ‘And that has now changed?’

‘Completely,’ Griffin stated without hesitation. ‘Now I want it all. The wife. The children. The happy home. The love of the woman whom I love in return. My homes filled with vases of flowers,’ he added ruefully.

Bea could barely breathe, so great was her own hope now that Griffin was talking to her of these things for a reason. ‘And have you come here so that I might wish you well on this venture?’

‘I want so much more from you than that, Bea,’ he assured her firmly. ‘I want, one day, for you to be my wife, the mother of my children, the mistress of my happy home, the woman who might love me as I have loved and continue to love you, and who will fill our homes with vases of flowers. I am more than happy to be patient, of course, to woo you, to court you, as you deserve to be—’