Unconventional Suitors 02 - Her Unconventional Hero (16 page)

“And what did you discover in your acquaintance with him?”

“His mother died a few years ago, and he misses her like I miss Mama.”

“And I presume he has a strained relationship with his father?”

“Yes,” she stated simply. “You would be correct in that presumption.”

“Then perhaps that makes his mother’s death even more tragic, for at least you still have one parent alive who loves you and wants a relationship with you.”

Suddenly Adel felt sorry for Griffin in a way that she had never done so before. She had never paused long enough in her own sorrow to think that his could somehow be worse.

“Adel,” her father said softly, pulling her out of her reverie, “do you think that his own sorrow could have played a role in how he treated you?”

Her immediate answer was, “Not at all,” for she was certain that he hadn’t been woeful when he had issued Lord Danford the bet, but as the day went on and her father returned to his customary daily routine, it gave her a lot of time to think, and think she did.

Griffin had explained the bet to her so nonchalantly, as if it were normal to wish to see your friend miserable and embarrassed. Now, she wasn’t entirely certain as to how a man’s mind worked, but some little inkling inside of her urged her to believe that maybe his ill-mannered bet and his arrogance had more to do with his misery than she initially supposed.

Perhaps he used it, like she had used her gossip column, as a distraction from his pain. Not for the first time where Griffin was concerned, Adel felt an odd kinship with him. And though she wasn’t entirely ready to forgive his actions, her sudden understanding of his behavior put her one step closer on that path. Where before, the thought of him sent her into a fit of despair, now she could think of him and honestly believe that someday her heart would be able to let go of the pain he had caused, though it would never entirely be free from him.

Nearly a week had gone by since that fateful day that Adel had stormed out of Griffin’s life. It had been the longest, most boring week of his life. His melancholy stole any desire he may have had to converse and socialize, so instead of attending the balls and routs put on by the
ton
, as he would normally do, he stayed at home, wallowing in despair.

Each morning he anxiously awaited the delivery of
The Morning Post
, nervously anticipating the scathing words Adel had promised to write. He had been more than a little surprised that she had not missed even a day of penning her column while she supposedly traveled on to Kent, and even more surprising was the fact that as of yet, no word had appeared regarding him, his friends, or Lady Danford. Though he should have felt relief, the lack of mention was making him grow increasingly nervous. He was certain that as her anger grew, her revenge would as well.

Sitting in the morning room with a plate of eggs and toast before him, he called out to the butler, “Have the papers arrived yet?”

His butler disappeared for the briefest of moments before returning with a stack of the daily papers. Griffin snatched them from him and eagerly flipped through them until he found
The Morning Post
. His hand shook with nervous anticipation as he thumbed through the sheets until he found Mrs. Tiddlyswan’s column.

As the Season begins to wind down, every mother appears to have grown almost vicious in their pursuit of husbands for their comely and eligible daughters. Just last night at the Edward’s rout, Lady Matherton was overheard plotting to trap Lord Chesterfield in the library with her daughter Lady Esmeralda in hopes of the pair being found in a compromising position and being forced to wed. Indeed, Lady Matherton’s plan worked, and I am proud to be the first to report that Lord Chesterfield and Lady Esmeralda will be announcing their engagement shortly.

Griffin’s jaw hung open in dismay. How was Adel privy to such gossip when she wasn’t even in London? It thoroughly stunned him. Maybe she hadn’t gone to Kent after all. Shaking his head, he began to read once more.

On a more serious note, this author has just learned that the Baron Moncreif is on the verge of financial ruin. His propensity for gambling and womanizing has dried up the last of his limited funds. Word has it that he keeps his wife in deplorable conditions to free up funds while he attempts to juggle his numerous obligations. It’s rather unfortunate indeed that he can’t hang
his hopes on marrying a wealthy lady to save him from his inevitable future in debtor’s prison.

Griffin dropped the paper as if he had been burned. Anger bubbled up in his chest and threatened to boil over. How could Adel be so ruthless to write about his brother-in-law, knowing that it would not only humiliate Rose but quite possibly cause her harm as well? All feelings of love and fondness that he held for her disappeared in that instant. She had hurt him far worse by this than she ever would have by writing about him and destroying his reputation.

He let out a low, angry growl before pushing away from the table so violently that he knocked his chair over. The loud clattering of the chair hitting the floor served to bolster his anger. He reached for his nearly empty teacup and threw it hard against the wall, hoping to alleviate some of his anger. He watched the teacup shatter into a million pieces as his servants watched him wide-eyed, wisely saying nothing.

“Prepare my carriage,” he commanded to no one in particular. He watched as several servants scurried about, praying that one of them was smart enough to obey. He had to get to Rose immediately and see that she was safe.

Griffin pounded his fist furiously against the seat of his carriage in a repetitive motion. How long would it take for his driver to get to Rose’s townhouse? Was he deliberately driving at such a slow place to vex him? He wanted to scream out that he could walk faster than they were driving, but a quick glance out the window to the townhouses passing by told him he was wrong.

As the carriage was pulling to a stop, he reached for the door and forced it open, jumping out and rushing up to the door. He let himself in, not the least bit concerned with manners and propriety. “Rose, have you read the papers this morning?” he shouted, not remembering that she had previously told him that she didn’t get the paper.

He jogged down the hall as he called out to her. “Rose, where are you?” The house was eerily silent.

When a brief but thorough inspection of the drawing room yielded no results, he ran up the stairs shouting her name but didn’t get any response. He opened several doors revealing barren and dusty rooms before he finally found the entrance to her bedchamber. The room was nearly as bare as the others had been, save it was a simple bed in one corner. His heart stilled within him as he saw Rose huddled up in a ball on the bed, sobs racking her body.

Griffin ran to her, throwing himself down on the bed and pulling her to him. She was so thin, so fragile. Using one hand, he forced her face to his and gasped. Her pale face was swollen and marred by several purple bruises, her left eye nearly swollen shut. He had long suspected that her husband was physical with her at times, though this was the first time he had ever seen evidence of it for himself, and it made him physically ill. He had to swallow hard to avoid casting up his account as he looked at Rose’s face.

“Rose, what happened?” he asked, though he was certain he already knew.

“Why did she betray me?” Rose wailed, making Griffin’s anger flame up once again.

“Oh Rose, I do not think she meant to betray you. I think it was her way of getting even at me.”

Even through the bruises and swelling, Griffin could tell that his sister was giving him a quizzical look. “Why would she do that? She doesn’t even know you.”

Now it was his turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”

“My maid,” Rose sobbed. “I thought she was my friend. She stayed by me even though my husband long ago stopped paying her dues.”

Though he was confused, Griffin could tell that her maid’s betrayal obviously upset her more than her husband’s abuse had. “Rose, please tell me everything you know. Did the baron read
The Morning Post
?”

She nodded as she continued to cry.

“I know this is hard for you, but I need to know everything,” he urged gently.

He admired his sister’s courage as she steadied her emotions enough for her to be able to speak. “He read it this morning and came here immediately. He was cross as crabs so I could tell instantly that something was afoot. As you know, I do not take the paper and had no way of knowing what was written about him. He read me the words of Mrs. Tiddlyswan as I hid my surprise. Do not mistake me, for I was not surprised by his behavior, for I have been privy to it from the beginning. My surprise came from the fact that Lady Adel would do that to me. But though I was dismayed, I had no intention of breaking anyone’s confidence and revealing what I knew about Lady Adel. Turns out I didn’t have to say anything, she…she told him everything!” Rose began crying once more as she hid her face behind her hands.

“By she I assume you mean your maid?”

Rose nodded. “How could she? I thought she was my truest friend. She sat by and watched as my husband beat me for knowing the identity of the person who made him out to be a fool but refusing to tell him. She watched him do this to me and did nothing.”

Griffin’s hands clamped into tight fists. “Where is she?” he asked murderously. “I will ring her neck.”

“Gone. She left shortly after my husband. I haven’t a clue where she went. She left me here alone.” Rose’s slight frame was once more racked with sobs. It was clear that she was more upset by her maid’s betrayal than she was by her husband’s cruel actions or Adel’s horrendously insensitive ones.

Griffin set Rose gently down atop the mattress as he began pacing back and forth in the small room. He wanted to find the Baron Moncreif and kill him with his bare hands, make him suffer for all the pain and anguish and humiliation he had caused his sister, consequences be damned. He was so blinded by his anger, he barely registered that Rose was speaking to him.

“He’s on his way to Kent to find Lady Adel and punish her.”

Griffin stopped cold in his tracks. “What?” he asked incredulously, though he had heard her perfectly well.

“I know she hurt you, us, but you have to stop him. He’s dangerous, Griffin. I’m afraid of what he’ll do to her.”

He didn’t know how it was possible, but his anger somehow managed to multiply. Walking to the wall he punched his fist hard against the plaster, causing a large hole to cave into the wall. His knuckles felt bruised and one even split open and began bleeding, but the pain was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. Grabbing his handkerchief from his pocket, he hastily wiped the blood away.

“We’ve got to stop him,” he muttered as he found a cloak to wrap around Rose as he scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the house and into his carriage, instructing his driver to take them to St. James’s Square.

As soon as they arrived at the Desmond’s townhouse, he turned to Rose, “Stay here, I will be back shortly,” he instructed before hopping from the vehicle.

His body thrummed with nervous anticipation as he waited for the door to be answered. As soon as the butler appeared, he shouted, “I need to speak to Lady Adel. Now.”

“Do come in, my lord, and kindly avoid making a scene.”

Griffin didn’t give a fig about the fact that he may be causing a scene, but he did follow the butler inside. “Fetch Aunt Tabitha, I must speak to her at once.”

“My lord, if you’d like to wait in the drawing room I will see if she is up to accepting callers.”

Seething he hissed, “Get her at once or I will find her myself.”

The butler actually looked unnerved for a moment before reclaiming his stoic demeanor. “I will find her at once.”

“Smart man,” Griffin muttered as he watched him walk away.

Rationally he knew it was only minutes before Aunt Tabitha came scurrying to the foyer, but it felt like an eternity. “Lord Straton, what is the meaning of all of this? Our butler said that—“

Cutting her off mid-sentence he asked, “Where is Adel?”

Aunt Tabitha stammered, “She’s in Kent, my lord. She returned there nearly a week ago.”

“We need to go to her at once. I have reason to believe that she is in danger.”

Aunt Tabitha’s face turned ashen. “What…whatever do you mean, my lord?? she stammered.

“I do not have time to explain everything, but suffice it to say that she has done something to put herself in danger, and we need to help her before it is too late.”

“Pardon, my lord, but you are not making any sense. Adel would never involve herself in dangerous affairs, it’s not in her character.”

Griffin sighed as he ran one hand furiously over his stubbled jaw. He didn’t want to take the time to explain, but it was apparent that the stubborn old lady wasn’t going to budge without at least some explanation. “Have you read Mrs. Tiddlyswan’s gossip column?”

“But of course,” she looked at him confused. “Every member of the
ton
has certainly read it.”

“Mrs. Tiddlyswan is your niece’s alias. She’s been penning the column since the start of the season.”

Aunt Tabitha gasped, clutching her hands to her bosom. “No!”

“Oh yes, it is all true, and her latest column has placed her in danger. With all due respect, I would love to explain to you every last detail of the situation, but I’m afraid if I do, we will be too late.” Griffin turned and put his hand on the doorknob, “I need you to tell me where Adel is staying. I need directions to the estate.”

“Terrace Manor?” Aunt Tabitha asked, still in a state of shock.

“If that is where Adel is, then yes.”

“I will go with you; it will be easier than trying to explain. Let me gather Katherine. We will be ready to leave shortly.”

Griffin huffed, “I do not have time for you to gather trunks and other necessities. We need to leave at once.”

“I promise; I will be swift,” Aunt Tabitha called out over her shoulder, for she had already began dashing down the hall.