Yet surely he had just violated that trust?
He would not be accused of violating her too!
Griffin gave a terse inclination of his head. ‘Do as you please,’ he dismissed coolly even as he wrenched open the door to the bedchamber and made good his escape.
Bella blinked back the tears of self-pity that now blurred her vision. She would not allow herself to cry again.
She refused to cry simply because Griffin so obviously regretted kissing her.
But what a kiss!
Delivered with a depth of feeling, a passion, that had shaken her to the core.
Had it also shaken Griffin?
He had been so cold when he’d pulled away from her so suddenly. Very much the Duke of Rotherham.
He was tired of her, tired of the burden she’d become.
Perhaps it would be best for both of them if she were to leave here.
To leave Griffin.
* * *
Griffin’s mood was one of deep impatience by the time he rode through the Shrawley Woods on his way back to Stonehurst Park late that afternoon.
If his neighbours had been surprised to receive a visit from the Duke of Rotherham then they had quickly masked the emotion, their manner effusive as they’d offered him tea and fancies.
Even when Felicity had been alive Griffin had always hated, had actively avoided, such visits.
The fact that he was now a widower, and an eligible duke at that, obviously had not escaped the notice of his neighbours. The Turners and the Howards had taken advantage of the opportunity to introduce him to any and all of their daughters who were of a marriageable age, the MacCawleys to a niece who was residing with them for the summer.
Only the Lathams had no daughter or niece to thrust at him, and unfortunately they were away from home at present. The butler had informed him that Sir Walter, an avid member of the hunt, was currently in the next county looking to buy a promising grey, and his wife was away until the end of the week visiting friends.
Not that the latter was any great loss to Griffin; several inches taller than her rotund and jovial husband, Lady Francesca Latham was exactly the type of woman Griffin least admired. A blond-haired beauty, admittedly, but Lady Francesca also had a cold and sarcastic sense of humour, and spoke with a directness that Griffin found disconcerting, to say the least.
All of those visits had been a waste of his time and energy anyway, as he had not managed to ascertain any information from his conversations in regard to Bella, or Jacob Harker.
So the slowness of Griffin’s pace on his journey back to Stonehurst Park was not due to any lingering enjoyment of his afternoon, but more out of a reluctance to see and be with Bella again.
He no longer trusted himself to be alone in her company.
The way he had responded to her earlier was unprecedented. He’d experienced a depth of arousal that had resulted in his continued discomfort for more than an hour after the two of them had parted. He had breathed a sigh of relief when she had asked to have her luncheon on a tray in her bedchamber, leaving him to dine alone in the small family dining room.
But Griffin knew he could not continue to avoid her. They would have to put those kisses behind them, by ignoring the incident, if by no other means. Although Griffin doubted he would be able to forget his response.
‘Oh, thank goodness you are returned, Your Grace!’
A harried-looking Pelham came hurrying down the front steps of the house as Griffin dismounted and handed his reins to the waiting groom.
‘There’s been such a to-do! I did not know what to do for the best.’
‘What is it, Pelham?’ Griffin frowned his concern; Pelham had been butler here at Stonehurst Park since Griffin was a boy, and as far as he was aware this was the first time he had seen the elderly man in the least discomposed.
‘It is Miss Bella.’
‘Bella?’ Griffin quickly looked up towards the house. ‘Has she fallen? Been injured in some way? Did someone come here while I was out?’ he demanded belatedly. He knew someone would almost certainly be looking for Bella, following her escape, but Griffin had not thought they would dare to come here, to Stonehurst Park. ‘Out with it, man!’ he barked his impatience at his butler.
Pelham obviously did his best to calm himself, although there was still a light of panic in his eyes. ‘We were just finished afternoon tea in the servants’ dining room when we heard such a screaming and carry on.’
‘Bella?’ Griffin knew he was the one who was now less than composed. ‘Did someone attack her? If someone has dared to harm her—’
‘No, no, it is nothing like that, Your Grace. It seems that she must have fallen asleep some time after lunch, and had a nightmare. Mrs Harcourt is up in her bedchamber with her now, but Miss Bella is inconsolable, and we did not know what to do for the best.’