Griffin leaned forward in his chair, bracing his forearms across the desktop in front of him. “You saw Meredith?”
“Indeed. Not two hours ago.”
“And?” Griffin prompted.
“And it probably won’t come as a surprise to you that there is no reasoning with her. She can be stubborn as a mule. She still won’t admit how she feels about you.”
Griffin lowered his head to his hands. “Save your breath. I know Meredith. She won’t change her mind once it’s made up.”
Ash’s mouth quirked. “Funny. She also told me to save my breath.”
“She won’t talk to me. Won’t accept my visits.” Griffin pushed himself upright again and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Damn it. Why wouldn’t she admit she loved him? Why wouldn’t she give him a chance?
The fact remained that Meredith had responded tohim. She’d made love tohim, knowing who he was. And now she was trying to pretend she hadn’t felt anything. She was hiding behind her indignant anger to keep from feeling anything.
Hadn’t she done the same thing the night she’d told him she was engaged to Maxwell? Ash had told Griffin how Maxwell had bartered for her, how her father had sold her like a piece of horseflesh. It made Griffin sick to think of it. He’d dig up both of those bastards and beat them to pulp if he thought either one of them would feel it.
But that didn’t matter now. He only cared about one thing. Why wouldn’t Meredith admit she loved him? Perhapsshe didn’t want to marry, not right away at least. Hell, maybe she never wanted to marry. It didn’t matter to him. He’d have her any way he could. And if that was as an “arrangement,” as she put it, so be it. It wasn’t his preference. But he would do it. He would do anything for her.
“There’s one thing she said that I can’t get out of my mind,” Griffin admitted, staring at his friend.
Ash took another sip. “What’s that?”
“She said, ‘You’ll never know how close you came to making the biggest mistake of your life.’ What the hell does that mean?”
“I don’t know. But I got the same impression when I spoke to her. There’s something she’s not telling us. Something she doesn’t want us to know.”
“I agree. But what could it be?”
Ash waggled his brows. “There is only one way to find out.”
“You’re right.” Griffin leaned far back in his chair, stared at the ceiling, and expelled his breath in a long rush. An ironic smile touched his lips. He sat in silence for several long moments before he finally said, “Did you know that until my brother died, I thought I shouldn’t even be alive?”
Ash winced and sucked in his breath.
“My whole life I felt as if I didn’t matter,” Griffin continued. “I was only the ‘spare,’ after all. Not good for anything but taking up space.”
Ash watched him silently.
“That’s why I spent so much time at your house. I always felt welcomed there by you and Meredith.”
Ash nodded, contemplating the amber liquid in his glass. “We had that in common,” he breathed. “The three of us were unwanted by our fathers.”
“I learned to be patient. To bide my time. It was easier that way. When I was quiet or absent, Father and Richard ignored me instead of ridiculing me.”
“Your father and Richard were both bastards,” Ash conceded.
“Yes, they were. They’re both gone now, and I’m the duke, and do you want to know something?”
Ash raised an eyebrow in question.
Griffin pushed away from the desk, stood, and planted both fists on his hips. “My patience is finally at an end.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Even Later That Night, The Duchess of Maxwell’s Bedchamber
The sharp rapping on her bedchamber door startled Meredith from her troubled sleep. She sat up groggily and slowly lit the candle on the bedside table.
