Unconventional Suitors 02 - Her Unconventional Hero (2 page)

When he finally let go of his hold on her, he took a step back for his own protection, fully expecting her to slap her hand hard across his face, but she didn’t. Instead she took a large step backwards as well serving to put plenty of distance between them, her eyes flashing murderously. “Do not ever touch me again,” she demanded, her voice dangerously low.

“I do not make promises I cannot keep,” he said, with not even a trace of apology, before turning on his heel and returning promptly to the ballroom, leaving Lady Adel alone in the night.

***

What an arrogant, pompous fool! Adel’s hands shook violently as she searched through her reticule for the ever-present pad of paper and pencil. She walked swiftly to the corner of the balcony, huffing angrily as she went. She was so flustered from her unwelcome encounter with Lord Straton that she could hardly think straight. As soon as her hand clamped around the items she was looking for, she pulled them quickly from her reticule and began scribbling on the page frantically.

Let it be known that Lord Straton is the vilest of rakes. His penchant for preying on unsuspecting ladies has reached a new extreme. He was spotted out on the balcony harassing an innocent maiden at the Oliverson Ball…

Her pencil quickly trailed off, letting the last word die out on the page. Of course she couldn’t very well submit a piece about tonight’s incident to
The Morning Post
without implicating herself. No one was anywhere near the balcony when the scene with Lord Straton had occurred. As much as she itched to humiliate the infuriating man by naming him in the ever-popular and well-read gossip column for which she secretly wrote under the alias of Mrs. Tiddlyswan, she couldn’t risk her identity being discovered, not even for the cause of well-deserved retaliation.

Ripping the page from her pad, she crumpled it angrily and tossed it, along with the pencil, back into her reticule before pulling the strings tightly shut. After several moments of looking at the night sky, Adel began to feel chilled. She folded her arms across her chest and shivered, though she refused to go back inside and risk seeing Lord Straton once more.

Looking up at the sky, she found the brightest star twinkling amongst the lesser ones. The thought of her beautiful mother’s body lying in the cold, hard ground in the family cemetery pained her so greatly that she chose instead to imagine her mother was somewhere amongst the stars, shining down on her from the heavens.

In a quiet, barely discernible whisper, she began to talk to her. “Mother, how I miss you. It’s been over a year now, and I still can’t make the world seem right without your presence.” Her thoughts instantly recalled her younger sister, Katherine, and the pain of their coming out this season without their beloved mother. She felt a frown tug at her lips, and she sighed in hopes of dispelling some of the sadness she carried inside.

Adel was supposed to have her coming out the year prior, but her mother’s unexpected death made it impossible. Instead, she spent the year in morning, as was proper, not even sure she wanted to be presented to society without her mother by her side. But once the requisite year was up, her father insisted that both she and Katherine, who was now of age as well, experience a London Season, and so he asked his sister, Aunt Tabitha, to act as their chaperone.

Aunt Tabitha was nearly as ungainly as Katherine was, but her father’s implicit trust in his spinster sister broke no room for argument from Adel, and wishing to please her father, she agreed to have a season. Tonight, not for the first time, she heartily regretted giving into her father’s wishes without putting up more of a fight. He and Aunt Tabitha had warned her and Katherine to be on guard for those men who would pursue them solely based on the size of their gratuitous dowries, but no one had warned her about men like Lord Straton, and so far, in her experience, he was proving far more dangerous than any would-be fortune hunters ever had.

Benedict took slow sips of his tea, staring at his wife sitting across the table from him as they broke their fast. He would never grow tired of beholding her exquisite face, a face that at the moment was scrunched together in concentration. He had just told her of his promise to Griffin to have his bride picked out sooner rather than later, meaning they would have to make their decision speedily.

After several more seconds of nibbling on her bottom lip, she looked up at him and asked, “Are you still convinced that Lady Adel and Lord Straton would suit?”

“I am,” he said confidently. Then to reassure her he added, “And had there been any doubt left in my mind, seeing the look on his face upon his return from the balcony last night would have sealed his fate completely.”

“Are you absolutely certain it was Lady Adel with whom he had been conversing?”

“Positive, my love. I strolled by the open doors shortly after he disappeared to see for myself. She was the only one out there.”

“But I’m not entirely certain that the idea of a marriage to Lord Straton will be pleasing to Lady Adel.”

Benedict reached for her hand, rubbing slow circles on her delicate palm in an attempt to assure her of his choice. “My darling, do you not remember that she finds him to be handsome?”

Gillian let her mind wander back to the conversation months ago where Lady Adel had indeed proclaimed Lord Straton to be handsome, albeit insufferable. “But finding his appearance pleasing is not the same as being in love.”

“No, but it is a start. I see the way that Griffin looks at her, and it reminds me very much of the way you look at me.”

“Oh?” she questioned, one eyebrow raised in a delicate arch. “How is that?”

“Like you want to devour me,” he purred lowly so the servants wouldn’t overhear him.

Gillian’s eyes snapped up to his, as a devilish grin splayed across his face. “I daresay that is how
you
are looking at me right now,” she countered.

Benedict didn’t bother arguing with her; instead he pushed back from the table and made to stand. “Perhaps this conversation can be discussed later. I suddenly recall some important business I need to attend to in our chambers.”

Even after several weeks of marriage, her husband’s boldness could still make her blush. She ducked her head to her chest as a heated blush stole over her cheeks. “As you wish.”

Benedict chuckled lowly as he helped her from her chair. “What a sweet, obedient wife you are,” to which she promptly laughed, for they both new it wasn’t entirely true.

Quite some time later, they found themselves in Benedict’s study, Gillian sitting across the large mahogany desk from her husband, watching as he pulled a sheet of parchment from a drawer. He reached for his quill and drew a line down the middle, the entire length of the page. In one column he wrote Griffin, Warren, and Marcus before turning his eyes up to Gillian and saying, “I feel much refreshed after our vigorous morning exercise. We should consider making that a part of our morning routine.”

Gillian laughed, “We already have. Now try to focus on the task at hand. You are insistent that Lord Straton be paired with Lady Adel, but what about Lord Dawkins and Mr. Graham?”

“I’ve already figured out Warren’s pairing; it’s Marcus I am drawing a blank on.”

Gillian’s eyes widened with annoyance. “You have already chosen a wife for Lord Dawkins without consulting with me first?”

“Don’t look so offended, my love. I didn’t precisely choose his bride. I simply owed someone a favor. My hands are tied.”

“What are you speaking of?” she asked, perplexed.

Benedict sighed. “I enlisted the help of Miss Graham, Marcus’s younger sister, in my attempts to woo you. She agreed to help me make you jealous, in exchange for my help in securing Warren’s affections. ‘Twould seem that she’s had a tendre for the fool for some time now. So you see.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It would seem that I must make good on my word.”

Gillian was silent for a moment, thinking over what he had just revealed. Finally she spoke, “So Miss Graham was in on your little scheme to make me jealous? Hmmm…I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“It was just a means to an end, my love. And, it was highly effective.”

“Perhaps, if not a bit underhanded.”

“I was not above doing whatever it took to secure your affections.”

“So you could win that blasted bet,” she stated irritably.

Benedict reached for her hand. “No, so I could win your heart. I had already lost mine to you completely and wished only to have you return my feelings. Now, wipe that scowl off of your pretty face and let’s get back to the task at hand.”

“Very well,” she said with a slight huff, before focusing once more on the paper sitting on the desk before them. “But Mr. Graham will be furious,” she stated simply but surely.

“Yes, I presume he will be. I’m hoping to hold off on that announcement for a while longer. It will be best if I broach that pairing with sensitivity and understanding. I’m not exactly sure Warren will be pleased either.”

“Oh, I do not wish to see either one of them miserable. Maybe you should reconsider your word to Miss Graham.”

Benedict shook his head. “I cannot do that after she was so helpful to me. It wouldn’t be right; my word is my honor. We will just have to hope for the best. Besides, a little misery would do Warren some good after what he put me through.”

“You are far from miserable now, my husband,” she said with a sultry wink, bringing his mind back to their recent lovemaking.

“Far, far from miserable,” he readily agreed. “But though I do not wish for any of them to remain in misery for the rest of their lives, a little pain in the process would do them all some good. This is my chance for revenge, remember?”

Gillian nodded and watched as he wrote Lady Adel next to Griffin’s name and Miss Graham next to Warren’s. “Very well, I will just have to trust you. What about Mr. Graham? Have you any lady in mind for him?”

“Not a one. You?”

“Not exactly but I haven’t thought much on it until now.”

Benedict folded the piece of paper, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket. “This will do for now.” Then, rising from his desk he said, “I think I will pay a visit to Griffin and inform him of the glorious news. I would hate for him to loose anymore sleep over it.”

“Best of luck,” Gillian called out to him as she watched his broad shoulders retreat from the study.

***

Griffin groaned as he pulled Lady Adel’s lush body flush with his. The sleeve of her silk gown slid seductively down her arm, exposing one pearly shoulder. Griffin’s mouth went dry as he collapsed down on the edge of his bed, never breaking eye contact with the alluring minx before him. She stood before him looking passionate and willing, and he wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass him by. He searched her eyes once more, and when he saw no hesitation in them, he quickly leaned forward and placed his warm lips to the cool, exposed skin.

Looking up at her through thick lashes, his lips still pressed to her shoulder, he saw that her eyes were closed and her head was thrust back, revealing a creamy expanse of neck that looked too tempting to ignore. Griffin wound his arms around her waist and pulled her down into his lap as he scattered kisses gently up the long column of her neck.

She lifted her arms and thrust her hands into his hair, causing a tingling sensation to scatter down his spine. He groaned once more as he pulled her on top of him, feeling the rich silk of her gown glide over his bare legs enticingly.

His bare legs?
Griffin felt a sliver of confusion settle into his mind. His legs weren’t bare, at least not yet.

The fog of desire that had enshrouded his brain began to lift as he slowly peeled his eyes open. It took him a moment to realize that although he was indeed in his bed, he was completely and utterly alone. What he had thought was Lady Adel’s silk gown rubbing against his legs was nothing more than his own silk sheets.

It had all been a dream.

A deliciously wicked dream that had been cut far too short.

Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to will himself to fall back asleep and continue the dream where he had left off, but a maddening knock on his door made it impossible. Cursing, Griffin rose and marched to the door, pulling it wide open, an angry scowl on his face.

“My lord, you have a visitor.” His butler’s stoic face betrayed no surprise at seeing Griffin standing before him completely naked, for which Griffin was grateful.

“Who is it?” he snarled.

“Lord Danford, my lord.”

“I will be down shortly,” Griffin said, as he slammed his door rudely in the butler’s face, then proceeded to ring the bell pull that would alert his valet that he was in need of his service.

Nearly an hour had passed before Griffin was dressed and standing in the parlor of his townhouse, greeting Benedict in clipped tones, not feeling the least bit guilty for having made him wait so long. He was still angry that his dream had been interrupted.

As he walked into the parlor, Benedict gave him an irritated look. “I was beginning to think you went back to sleep.”

“Oh, how I wished it were so,” Griffin grumbled, sincerely meaning it. “My dreams hold far more appeal than a visit from you.”

“No doubt, though I thought you’d be somewhat pleased with my visit seeing as how you have been so eager to find out the name of your future wife.”

At the mention of his future wife, Griffin perked up, if only slightly. He tried to read the look on Benedict’s face, hoping it would give away any sort of hint as to what was coming. The only expression he could read was pleasure, and he wasn’t sure if it was due to his choice of wife for him or his delight at submitting Griffin to such torture. Perhaps both.

“Well do not keep me in suspense any longer,” he said dryly, as he leaned casually back on the settee.

Benedict wasted no time with flowery explanations or lame apologies, “I have chosen Lady Adel Desmond to be your bride.”

Griffin shot out of his seat and paced quickly to the large picture window facing the street, his back to Benedict in hopes of hiding the heat he felt creeping into his face at the mention of Lady Adel’s name, invoking his all too recent dream involving the woman. Several deep breaths helped him regain his composure before he turned around and faced Benedict. “I cannot wed her,” he said flatly, the mask of indifference once more resting upon his face.