Unconventional Suitors 01 - Her Unconventional Suitor (11 page)

“I suppose,” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure he was fond of the idea of spending time in both Miss Graham and Lady Gillian’s company with Marcus present. It made him weary.

“Very well. And If you could manage to wear something a little lest ghastly to the dinner party then you did to the Barringtide Ball, my reputation and I would greatly appreciate it.”

Benedict smiled as he saw her out. “I will see what I can do. In the meantime I will look for you at Almack’s on Wednesday evening.”

“Very well.”

As soon as Miss Graham had left, Benedict rang the bell and instructed the servants to remove the unused tea service from the drawing room. Just as the last remnants of his visit were being removed, his mother wandered into the room, a perplexed look on her face. “Have we had company that I was not made aware of?”

Benedict straightened. “Miss Graham, Mr. Graham’s sister made a brief visit. It was nothing of great importance.”

“Miss Graham is it? According to the latest on dits, it’s Lady Gillian you have set your cap for,” she said angrily as she thrust a newspaper into his chest. Benedict took the paper and scanned its contents for whatever it was she was referring to. “Look here,” she said impatiently as she pointed to a column near the bottom of the page.

Benedict’s eyes settled on Mrs. Tiddlyswan’s gossip column and began to read. It was full of ill reported gossip and scandal amongst the gentry, and as he continued to read the boring information, he had a sinking suspicion that his name would appear. Sure enough, near the bottom of the article his name stood out from the page as if it had been written in bold, angry letters: It appears that the newly minted Earl of Danford has been busy upon his return to England in his hurried attempt to find a wife. He has been seen pouring his attention heavily upon the Duke of Chesley’s oldest daughter, Lady Gillian, though with his outdated and ragged clothing it is a wonder she hasn’t given him the cut direct. It baffles the author how two years abroad can render a former rake so unfashionably out of touch with haute couture. Just the other evening, the author has it on good report that the earl fled the Barringtide ball in a flustered state of dishabille with the seam of his dress coat torn wide open. It makes one wonder what scandalous activity he was involved in that caused such an embarrassing blunder to occur. My cheeks are heating up just thinking about the possibilities.

Benedict finished reading then looked up at his mother. “I cannot believe that there is nothing more important for the
ton
to talk about then the unfortunate tear in my dress coat.”

“It is the reason behind the tear, Benedict, that gives cause for scandal. You are embarrassing me beyond measure these days, first with your awful clothing and secondly by parading that awful clothing around so indecorously, even causing Mrs. Tiddlyswan to take notice.”

“Mother, the gossip mill must have been slow as of recent, for the Barringtide ball was a week ago. And since when did a ripped seam become fascinating enough to make the gossip pages? Not a single ball or dinner party goes by without someone tearing an article of clothing. It is the reason that one can find a needle and thread in any retiring room in London.”

“Stop trying to placate me, son. I am not merely upset that your seam tore. I am upset that you are parading around London in such shabby clothing in the first place. It is an embarrassment to both of us. Never in my lifetime has someone in my family been mentioned in a gossip column until now, and I find it highly disturbing. If this continues, I will have to retire to the country for the remainder of the season to avoid further shame.”

Benedict helped ease his mother to the settee. Taking a seat next to her, he pulled her hands into his own. “Mother, I am truly sorry to have caused you undue stress. I will take greater care in the future to remain out of the gossip columns.”

“See that you do, Benedict,” she said sternly, her watery gray eyes boring into his own. “For if there is one more offense, I shall never forgive you.”

Benedict nodded obediently but he wanted to groan. It seemed that the rift between them was only widening further when he had only ever intended to protect her. Whether she could believe it or not, his foolish antics were for her own good. But regardless, he vowed then and there that he would be more careful in his manners so as to avoid any further embarrassment from befalling his poor, dear mother.

***

It had been no easy task for Benedict to put together his clothing for his outing to Almack’s. The strict dress code that was required made it harder to find something appropriate to wear amongst the outdated and colorful wardrobe he had been given for his ruse. He knew that if he wasn’t careful in his appearance, he risked having his voucher revoked by one of the fussy patronesses of the assembly rooms and that certainly would not do.

With a lot of work and a little luck, Benedict had been suited in black knee breeches that were only moderately short, silk stockings, and a black dress coat that to the untrained eye appeared as if it fit to perfection. It wasn’t until he turned around and raised his arms that a large slit could be seen running up the middle of the coat. Jonathan had cut the slit into the coat at Benedict’s urging, making it possible for him to move and breathe. He reminded himself several times that he would have to be careful to keep his back turned away from people and his arms down to avoid drawing any attention to the slit.

As soon as he entered the enormous ballroom on King Street, his eyes, of their own accord, began scanning the room for Lady Gillian. He knew that as a daughter of a duke experiencing her first season, there was no more fashionable place to be on a Wednesday evening than at Almack’s, and he was certain she would be there. If not, he may as well just turn around and go home because he certainly wasn’t there for his own amusement and desire.

His eyes spotted Lady Gillian as she was exiting the dance floor after having just finished dancing a country dance. Several young bucks flocked to her side, anxious to claim her for the next dance. Benedict rolled his eyes at the scene, but perhaps he would be just as eager to claim her for a dance if he had been properly attired for such pursuits.

He slid inconspicuously to the side of the room, careful to keep his back towards the wall as he slid along the side, hoping to find Miss Graham. Turns out, he didn’t need to pursue her for she was already on the lookout for him. Miss Graham looked rather grown up in a peach silk gown that was more low cut than anything he had ever seen her wear. His cheeks heated up with embarrassment on her behalf and he wanted to take off his coat and hand it to her to cover herself up with. She was just a girl, too young to be dressing so provocatively, but a quick glance around the room told him that in all actuality, her dress was a bit on the modest side. He shook his head, grateful that she was not his problem to worry over.

“Care to take a stroll around the room with me?” he asked as he held out his arm for her to take when she approached.

“Why stroll when we could dance? Lady Gillian is on the dance floor as we speak.”

“About that,” Benedict dipped his chin and lowered his voice, “I did not intend to do any dancing this evening.”

Miss Graham laughed. “You cannot be serious. You came to Almack’s with no plans to dance? Surely you jest.”

“Correction—I came to Almack’s to see and be seen, just like the rest of the people here. Suffice it to say that my wardrobe does not permit any dancing this evening.”

“Truly? I had meant to compliment you on your improved clothing. You look better than I have seen you since your return.”

“Yes, but in order for the dress coat to fit properly, my valet had to cut a slit up the back. If you do not mind, I would much prefer it if we could keep to the sides of the room so I can keep my back against the wall. I’m afraid if I lift my arms my secret will be revealed.”

He could tell by the look on her face that she was trying to tamper her amusement. His esteem for her raised considerably when she was successfully able to do so. “Very well,” she conceded, “let’s take a stroll around the room.”

Miss Graham and Benedict made small talk as they slowly and methodically circled the room. Benedict had to will himself not to stare at Lady Gillian as she danced, for she was looking exceptionally lovely in her gauzy pale blue gown. The color suited her immensely.

After several more dances went by, Benedict was beginning to doubt his plan for coming to Almack’s. He was bored out of his mind and was not sure how he was going to go about getting Lady Gillian’s attention when he couldn’t very well ask her to dance.

It came as no surprise to him when Miss Graham echoed his sentiments. “No offense, my lord, but I’m finding this evening to be a pointless bore. I know that I agreed to assist you in your plans, but I fail to see what you are hoping to accomplish this night when you do not even dare ask Lady Gillian to dance. Perhaps we should call it a night and direct our efforts towards the Hoppleworth rout. You have received an invitation, I presume.”

“Yes, I have. And you are correct,” he sighed. “Very well, go enjoy the remainder of your evening. I will look forward to seeing you later this week.”

Miss Graham gladly waltzed off leaving Benedict by himself. He glanced across the ballroom to get one last glimpse of Lady Gillian before leaving and was disheartened to see that she was happily dancing with Lord Evander, completely oblivious to his presence or his impending departure.

Let me be the first to report that Lord Danford’s voucher from Almack’s is being revoked! Word has it that Lady Jersey nearly swooned when she caught a glimpse of the back of his dress coat. It appears that the earl’s broad chest had caused the coat to tear all the way up the back, leaving him indecently exposed. Not that this author has paid particular mind to his physique, mind you. Perhaps that is why he was seen fleeing the ballroom after being there for less than an hour. Let the Earl of Danford be a reminder to you all of the consequences that can befall a poorly dressed gentleman, or lady for that matter.

Benedict felt himself panicking as he read the morning papers over hot tea and scones. He did not know what had compelled him to read Mrs. Tiddlyswan’s gossip column; perhaps it was the sick foreboding he felt brewing inside of him all morning. Drat that woman! He crumpled the paper up angrily and threw the ball across the room, ignoring the raised eyebrows of his butler as he did so.

He shot from his chair so swiftly that it nearly toppled over. What were the odds that his mother had not read the paper yet? He rushed up the stairs to her chamber, hoping to find her completely oblivious to his latest scandal.

Ignoring his manners, he pushed into his mother’s room without even knocking. His heart sank as he saw her sitting in her bed with a tray of tea, holding the morning paper in her hand. She looked up at him as he entered with a glare that could cause the most hearty of plants to wither.

“Mother, I can explain.”

“La! There is no way to explain your way out of this scandal, Benedict. I cannot even begin to tell you how positively disappointed I am in you right now.” She held up one shaking finger as she hissed, “One day, Benedict. One day is all it took for you to find your way back into the gossip columns after you promised me you would take better care of your reputation, our reputation.”

Benedict was speechless. He had taken care, or so he thought. He had refrained from dancing at Almack’s and had paid careful attention to his movements, even going so far as to keeping his back turned to the wall the short time he was there. Lady Jersey must have seen the slit as he was leaving. Blast it all; he did not need his mother’s anger right now.

“I am appalled that you have no words right now. Can you not even attempt to defend yourself or at least resort to groveling at my feet?”

“Mother, I would grovel if I felt like it would help my cause in the least, but I am afraid it would be too little too late. Suffice it to say that I am indeed sorry for my actions. I never meant to cause you any shame.”

His mother moved her breakfast tray aside and rose from the bed. “No Benedict, I am sure you never meant to, but you certainly didn’t put much effort into avoiding it either. I am positively mortified at the thought of showing my face in polite society after what you have done. I will be the laughingstock of the
ton
.”

“Mother, just give it time,” Benedict pleaded, trying to put the event into perspective. “In no time at all another scandal will come along and completely erase mine from memory. That is the fickle nature of the
ton
.”

His mother’s voice was firm as she spoke, “Not all instances of folly can be forgotten or forgiven so easily. Perhaps the
ton
will forgive you for your appalling actions as of late, but I am not sure that I can. I will be leaving for the country immediately.”

Benedict rubbed his temples as a pounding ache began throbbing in his head. His primary motivation in accepting the bet from his friends had been to keep his mother protected from the heartache of scandal and now he was causing her a fair amount of anguish all on his own. He stood firmly rooted in his spot, seriously contemplating whether he should break the bet by telling her the truth, the real reason behind his outlandish behavior. It would utterly break her heart to learn of her father’s betrayal, but at least Benedict would no longer be at the receiving end of her wrath, or so he hoped.

Back and forth he went, should he tell or should he not? A quick reminder of how devastated he had been when he had found out made the decision for him—he would not tell her.

He went to where she was standing, silently watching him, and put his hands upon her shoulders. “Mother, you may never understand what I am about to say, but I want you to know that I have always tried to protect you.”

“Whatever do you mean Benedict?”

Pulling her into his embrace he said simply, “I love you; that’s all.”

His mother softened in his arms. Hearing her sniffle, he pulled back and searched her face. “Do not tell me that you are crying, mother.”