It would explain so much about Griffin. The deft and efficient way in which he had dealt with her own unexpected and unorthodox appearance into his life. The fact that he had connections in London, like Lord Maystone, whom he might call upon discreetly to help him in discovering her identity.
It was perhaps also the reason Griffin had never married again; working secretly for the Crown could no doubt be a hazardous occupation, even in times of peace, as it now finally was. Already a widower, he was not a man who would allow his own actions to risk making his wife a widow.
Could that be the reason he was choosing to discourage her own affections?
No, it was more likely that Griffin simply did not feel that way about her.
But the rest of it?
Oh, yes, knowing Griffin she could well believe the rest of it.
Griffin was above all a man of honour, of deep loyalties, and once that loyalty had been given she had no doubt that he would never betray it. For anything or anyone.
‘I see.’ She nodded slowly.
‘I hope that you do.’ Sutherland gave a slight inclination of his head. ‘Griffin is a good man, and I should not like to see you treat him with unnecessary harshness.’
Bea gave a rueful shake of her head. ‘I believe you mistake our friendship, Your Grace. Circumstances have put Griffin in the role of an older brother to me, or—or an uncle.’
Blond brows rose up to the Duke’s hairline. ‘I trust you do not truly expect me to believe that?’
Bea could feel the blush in her cheeks at thoughts of last night. ‘Whatever Griffin has said to you in regard to me—’
‘I am sure you know him better than to believe he would ever be so indiscreet as to discuss his friendship with a lady with a third party. Even one of his closest friends,’ Seaton stated firmly. ‘But I do have eyes, Bea, and the power of deduction, and I do not believe that Griffin was behaving as an older brother or an uncle to you when I arrived late last night.’
The heat deepened in her cheeks. ‘That was all my own doing, not Griffin’s.’
‘Perhaps we should not discuss this any further, Bea?’ Seaton suggested ruefully. ‘Such conversations have the power of stirring the blood, I am far from London, and sadly the only beautiful woman in the vicinity is far more taken with my friend than she is with me.’
‘You are a flirt, sir.’ Bea could not help but laugh.
‘Indubitably.’ He gave an unrepentant grin as he once again placed her gloved hand upon his arm so that they might continue their walk about the gardens together.
But that did not mean that Bea did not continue to think of their conversation. For her heart to ache for the lonely little boy Griffin must once have been. For the sad and lonely widower he must also have been these past six years since he’d lost his wife.
For Bea to feel ashamed of her harshness towards him this morning, when she had spoken and treated him so coldly.
As no doubt the wily Duke of Sutherland had intended her to feel...
* * *
‘Yes, Bea?’ Griffin eyed her warily as she appeared in the doorway of the library, where he currently sat alone, drinking whisky and contemplating the unpleasantness of his visit to Latham Manor this morning.
She hesitated. ‘I am not interrupting anything?’
‘Only my thoughts,’ he acknowledged dryly.
Lady Francesca had arrived back at Latham Manor the previous evening, and, as Griffin had quickly learnt, her acerbic tongue had not been in the least tempered by having spent the Season in London, followed by several weekend parties on her leisurely journey back into Lancashire.
‘Thoughts I can well do without,’ he added dismissively as he stood up and indicated that Bea should enter and take her usual seat by the fire, before he sat down opposite her.
He had missed her company this morning, truth be told, allowing him to realise that he had become accustomed to her presence in the library as he worked on estate papers. Seeing her strolling about the gardens before he left, her hand resting companionably on Christian’s arm, had not improved his mood in the slightest. Finding Lady Francesca Latham back at home had only exacerbated his ill humour.
Nor had he learnt anything useful from the visit. Sir Walter was his usual jovial self, even more so now that his wife was returned to Lancashire, but the lady’s jarring presence had not allowed for any private conversation between the two gentlemen.
The only good thing about the visit was that Griffin had not had to suffer through meeting Lady Francesca’s whey-faced niece; she, no doubt having spent quite enough time in the company of her sharp-tongued aunt, had wisely chosen to remain a little longer at the home of one of her friends.
All in all, Griffin’s day so far had not been a successful one. Bea had opted to eat lunch in her bedchamber, and Griffin had absented himself from afternoon tea on the excuse that he was busy working on estate business.