‘I owe you an apology.’
Griffin tensed as he raised his gaze sharply to look searchingly at Bea. ‘An apology for what?’
She sighed. ‘I believe I was—unfair to you, both last night and this morning. The Duke of Sutherland was kind enough to explain a little about the restraints put upon the two of you, in regard to revealing my true identity.’
Griffin felt a certain satisfaction in hearing her still refer to Christian formally; he did not think he could have born to suffer through listening to Bea referring to the other man in a familiar way.
He was not so pleased with the rest of the content of her apology, however. ‘And how did Christian do that?’
Bea sensed the reserve in Griffin’s tone. ‘His Grace was not in the least indiscreet, Griffin,’ she hastened to reassure. ‘He merely helped me to understand that there is more involved in all of this than my own personal wants and needs.’
‘Indeed?’
Griffin sounded even more cool and remote when all she had wished to do was settle the unease that now existed between the two of them.
She had not forgotten overhearing his dismissal of their lovemaking last night, nor would she, but Christian Seaton had helped her to understand that there was a much broader picture to this situation, one that required she put her personal feelings of hurt to one side.
To be dealt with later.
She looked up at him quizzically. ‘You would rather he had not said anything?’
Griffin would rather he had been the one to do the explaining.
Feelings of jealousy rearing their ugly head again?
Feelings he did not have the right to feel.
Feelings he would be unwise to feel.
He looked at Bea closely, noting the pallor to her cheeks. ‘You have suffered no ill effects from our intimacy last night, I hope?’
‘No, of course not.’ Those cheeks immediately warmed with colour, her gaze avoiding meeting his. ‘What ill effects should I have suffered?’ she added waspishly.
Griffin, totally unfamiliar with a woman’s pleasure, had no idea. It had merely been something for him to say once he had noticed her pallor. Something he obviously should not have said, when it seemed to have inspired a return of tension between the two of them.
He grimaced. ‘I should not like to think that I had caused you any physical discomfort.’
‘I have no idea what you are talking about, Griffin,’ she dismissed impatiently, obviously in great discomfort at this moment, her arms tense as they rested on the brocade-covered arms of the chair, the knuckles of her fingers showing white as she tightly gripped
the wooden ends.
He stood up restlessly. ‘I am trying, in my obviously clumsy way, to put things right between us. To—to—I wish to have the old Bea returned to me!’ he rasped.
Bea had to harden her heart to the frustration she could hear in his voice, knowing she could never again feel so at ease in his company after the events of last night. Not because she regretted them in the slightest, because she did not. It was overhearing Griffin voice his regrets over those events that now constrained her.
He loomed large and slightly intimidating over the chair in which she sat. ‘Bea, if I could turn back the clock, and make it so that last night had never happened, then I would,’ he assured her with feeling. ‘I would do it, and gladly!’
Bea felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She had not thought that Griffin could hurt her more than he already had, but obviously she had been wrong.
A numbing calm settled over her. ‘If anyone is responsible for the events of last night, then it is me. You did warn me against proceeding, but I refused to listen. You are not to blame, Griffin,’ she repeated firmly as she stood up. ‘I have made my apology, now if you will excuse me?’
‘No!’ Griffin reached out to grasp hold of her arms as she would have brushed past him. ‘No, Bea, I will not, I cannot let you leave like this. Beatrix Stanton!’ he bit out grimly as she kept her face turned away from looking at him directly. ‘Your name is Lady Beatrix Stanton,’ he repeated, no longer caring about Christian’s warning of caution. Only Bea mattered to him at this moment, and putting an end to the estrangement between the two of them. ‘You are the daughter of Lord James and Lady Mary Stanton, the Earl and Countess of Barnstable.’
Her face paled as she stared up at him for several long seconds with dark unfathomable eyes before finally crying out, ‘Mamma! Pappa!’ Before very quietly, and very gracefully, sinking into a faint in Griffin’s waiting arms.
Chapter Eleven
‘Did you not consider how dangerous it could be to tell an amnesiac the truth so bluntly?’