Scoundrel of My Heart (Once Upon a Dukedom #1) - Lorraine Heath Page 0,79

time for her to receive an additional benefit.” He shook his head. “Why haven’t you asked?”

“I have my reasons.”

“It can’t be that you find fault with her.”

“’Tis true. I find no fault with her. I simply want to ensure she finds none with me. And that takes time. Especially when I’ve had to travel so much of late. But I shall take this new information into consideration.” He gave a brusque nod. “I appreciate it.”

Then he strode off to talk with Thornley about some blasted bill that wasn’t nearly as important as Kathryn. It probably wasn’t his place to tell the duke about the damned inheritance, but if he wasn’t going to marry her in a timely fashion, there was no point in his marrying her at all.

Inwardly, he strung together a slew of curses. Even if the duke missed her deadline, Griff couldn’t marry her. The duke was offering her power, prestige, influence. Griff could offer her little more than a life away from all that was familiar.

Being admitted into this parlor was not being admitted back into Society. He wasn’t fool enough to think it was.

Besides, she deserved far better than a man with a soul as tainted as his.

Because the dinner involved family, Althea hadn’t bothered with any sort of formal seating arrangement. Therefore, Kathryn sat across from Griff and beside Kingsland. When her dear friend had invited her to dinner, Althea’s first formal event since returning from Scotland, Kathryn had been more than happy to accept, especially since Althea had mentioned that Griff would be in attendance. She’d wanted to know exactly how he fared.

She was relieved to see him looking so well, with no sallowness to his skin. When she’d first caught sight of him standing by the fireplace, she’d noticed his left arm rested at an angle, an attempt to shield that side of his body from any unexpected knocks or blows. His wound was probably still healing and tender, or perhaps it was merely a habit he’d developed when it had been, and he’d strode through his dominion. She doubted anyone else would notice the protective stance, that anyone else would drink him in like he provided sustenance to a parched soul.

It rather irritated her that she did. She’d not had an opportunity to speak with him alone, so she had yet to reveal her upset with him for sneaking away without so much as a farewell. Although perhaps he’d wanted to avoid facing any awkwardness between them.

What had transpired shouldn’t have. Yet it had seemed as natural as reaching for the saltshaker—which at that particular moment they both did, their fingers touching, pausing, before he drew his back.

“I was in Scotland recently,” Kingsland said to their host at the head of the table, to his right. “I’m thinking of investing in a distillery.”

“The Scots do know how to make a good whisky,” the Duchess of Thornley said.

“Might you carry it in your tavern?”

“I would have to sample it first.”

“I’d be willing to give it a taste as well,” Aiden Trewlove said. “Might carry it in my clubs.” His clubs being the Elysium she visited and a gaming hell for men.

“What of you, Mr. Stanwick?” Kingsland said, as he sliced his beef. “Might you serve it in your club as well?”

She went still, except for her thundering heart, and wondered how he knew of the club. He certainly wouldn’t qualify for a membership. Griff met her gaze before sliding it over to the duke. “Depends how smoothly it went down.”

“Well, if I might possibly already have three avenues for distributing it, I shall give it more serious consideration.”

“I found Scotland to be beautiful,” Althea said, lightly as though she could sense some tension building between the two men.

Perhaps Kathryn should have come alone, but Althea had suggested the duke accompany her, and it seemed inappropriate not to extend the invitation to him. Besides, she hadn’t wanted to explain that her main reason for coming was to see Griff, and having Kingsland beside her reminded her that it shouldn’t be. She wasn’t even certain she should consider Griff a friend. Except a friend wouldn’t have done with her what he had. They’d been the actions of a lover. Oddly, she didn’t feel guilty about the liberties she’d allowed him to take. If anything, she wanted him to take them again. Only then, she probably would feel guilty, even if Wilhelmina had advised her that she shouldn’t.

The conversation drifted to specific aspects of Scotland, various