‘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?
Chapter Four
Why was Bella so surprised to learn that the Duke of Rotherham had a wife?
He was a very handsome gentleman, and wealthy too, judging by the meticulous condition of this beautiful estate. Of course such a man would have a wife. A beautiful and accomplished duchess, to complement his own chiselled good looks and ducal haughtiness. And, no doubt, to provide him with the necessary heirs.
Was it possible he already had several of those children in his nursery?
Bella swallowed before speaking again. ‘I did not know... I had no idea... I had assumed—’ She had assumed that Griffin was unmarried. That the way she felt so inexplicably drawn towards him was acceptable, even as she acknowledged it was altogether impossible that that interest would ever be felt in return for the vagabond she currently was. ‘Why have I not yet been introduced to your wife?’
A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched cheek. ‘Obviously because she is not here.’
Bella felt totally bewildered by the coldness of his tone.
‘Then where is she?’
His eyes were now glacial. ‘She has been buried in the family crypt in the village churchyard these past six years.’
Oh, dear Lord!
Why had she continued to question and pry? Why could she not have just left the subject alone, when she could see that it was causing Griffin such terrible discomfort? The stiffness of his body, the tightness of his jaw, and the over-bright glitter of his eyes were all proof of that.
But no, because she was irritated with him over his earlier behaviour, those ridiculous assumptions he had made concerning her conversation with Arthur Sutton, she had continued to push and to pry into something that was surely none of her business. Into a subject that obviously caused this proud and haughty man immense pain.
‘Do you have children, too?’
His mouth tightened. ‘No.’
‘How did she die?’ Bella knew she really should not ask any more questions, but the look on Griffin’s face indicated that if she did not ask them now she might never be given another opportunity. And she wanted to know.
Besides which, Griffin could only be aged in his early thirties now, and he said his wife had been dead for six years, so surely that wife could not have been any older than her early to mid-twenties when she died?
‘She drowned,’ he bit out harshly.
‘How?’ Bella gasped.
‘I will not discuss this subject with you any further, Bella!’
Bella knew she really had pushed the subject as far as Griffin would allow, as he turned away to look out of the bedroom window.
She hesitated only briefly, her gaze fixed on the rigid set of his shoulders and unyielding back as she swung her legs to the floor, before rising quickly to her feet to cross over to where the Duke stood. ‘Now it is my turn to apologise.’ Her voice was huskily soft as she stood behind him. ‘I should not have continued to ask questions about something that so obviously distresses you.’