Griffin Stone:Duke Of Decadence

At the same time as he could not help but feel a certain lightening of his heart at learning it had not been him in particular whom Felicity had found so physically repellent. That her sexual preference would have made her feel disgust at the idea of a physical relationship with any man.

That her suicide, by drowning herself in the lake at Stonehurst Park, had not been as a way of escaping him and their marriage, but because the woman she loved had rejected her.

Strange to experience such a sense of euphoria in the midst of such chaos. And yet that was exactly how Griffin now felt. As if a heavy weight of guilt and self-loathing had been lifted from his shoulders.

As if that truth had now freed him to try to win Bea’s heart for himself.

Were it not for the existence of Michael, of course.

‘Was that not what you did to Bea?’ Griffin now accused hardly. ‘Are you not the one responsible for beating Bea, with the help of your associate Jacob Harker?’

‘What is he talking about, Francesca?’ Sir Walter seemed to have deflated into being a shell of himself in the past few minutes, his rosy cheeks now a sickly shade of grey.

‘Do not tax your brain about it, Latham,’ his wife dismissed mockingly. ‘You would be far better to attend to your horses and your hounds.’

Latham attempted to rouse himself. ‘You will answer me, madam. Who is this man Harker? What have you done that Rotherham now accuses you of being a traitor? It is something to do with that worthless half brother of yours, is it not?’ He puffed angrily. ‘I always knew he would be nothing but trouble.’

‘Be silent, Latham!’ His wife turned on him angrily, cheeks flushed. ‘You are not fit to so much as speak my brother’s name.’

‘Half brother,’ Sir Walter rallied defiantly. ‘Sir Rupert Colville is only your half brother. A weak, lily-livered anarchist bent on bringing down the Crown.’

‘I said be quiet!’ Lady Francesca flew at him, hands raised, fingers bent into talons, her face an ugly mask.

Christian was closest to the couple, managing to grasp Francesca Latham about her waist and pull her back before she could reach her husband with those talons. Once she was in his grasp, he secured her more tightly by pulling her arms down and also holding them captive within his grasp as he stood behind her.

Bea had found herself unable to move or speak as the horror of this scene was played out before her.

The revelations about Griffin’s wife and Francesca Latham.

The knowledge that it had in all possibility been Francesca Latham herself who had administered Bea’s beatings during her week of captivity. Hence the reason she had never spoken in Bea’s presence?

As the events of that weekend she had spent with her aunt at the home of Sir Rupert Colville now came back to her. ‘You were completely mistaken in your suspicions towards me at your half brother’s home, madam.’ She got up to stand in front of Francesca Latham. ‘At the time I did not understand any of the conversation I overheard between you and Sir Rupert. How could I, when I did not know then that an eight-year-old boy had been cruelly taken from his parents and was being used as blackmail against his influential grandfather?’ She gave a shake of her head before turning to Aubrey Maystone. ‘My Lord, I think you will find your grandson is being held prisoner at Sir Rupert Colville’s home in Worcestershire.’

‘Why, you little—’

‘Have a care, madam!’ Christian warned through gritted teeth as his prisoner would have made a lunge for Bea. ‘You have seriously wronged two gentlemen who are close friends of mine, and you have caused great distress and pain to a lady wholly undeserving of such treatment. As such I will have no compunction in taking steps to silence you if you should give me reason to do so.’

‘Do as you wish with me.’ Francesca tossed her head unconcernedly. ‘You may cut off the head of the snake but two more will grow in my place!’

‘I do not believe for one moment that you are the head of this particular snake,’ Griffin scorned. ‘Nor your milksop brother, either. Neither of you is intelligent enough,’ he added with hard derision. ‘And I believe we will leave it to the Crown to decide whether or not to cut off both your heads.’

All the colour now drained from Francesca’s cheeks. ‘How can you remain loyal to such a man as the Prince Regent? A man who overindulges himself in every way possible, spending money he does not have on things he does not need, and to the detriment of his own people.’

‘Oh, please, spare us your warped idea of patriotism!’ Maystone dismissed. ‘Also be assured, madam, that if my grandson is not returned to me unharmed, then I shall personally recommend the hardest sentence imaginable to the Prince Regent, for your crimes against both him personally and to England,’ he added grimly.