Unconventional Suitors 02 - Her Unconventional Hero (3 page)

“Oh, but you have no choice,” Benedict said through a wicked smile, thoroughly enjoying Griffin’s discomfort, no doubt.

“She will never agree to the notion. I vex her to no end, and I am afraid the feeling is mutual. No, it simply won’t do. Pick another lady, any other lady besides her.”

Benedict leaned forward, placing his forearms on his thighs. “Do you hear what you are saying? Do you truly wish me to pick another? I suppose that perhaps you’d be more interested in wedding Miss Jones instead?”

“Miss Jones?” Griffin asked quizzically, not able to recall exactly who this Miss Jones was to whom Benedict was referring.
“Yes, Miss Jones, the lady my wife was conversing with at the ball last night. The lady you took an inordinate amount of interest in. I’m sure she would be pleased to be pursued by such a prize as yourself.”

Griffin groaned, thinking of the unattractive spinster. No, he certainly did not want to be wed to her either.

“Well, what say you man? Would you rather marry Lady Adel or Miss Jones?”

“How kind of you to give me a choice,” Griffin spat out sarcastically.

“What can I say? I’m feeling generous, I suppose.”

The room fell silent as Griffin contemplated his choice. Truly it wasn’t much of a choice, seeing as how there was no way he could ever consider being romantic with Miss Jones. With Lady Adel that was different at least, but though he might be able to entertain thoughts of bedding her, wedding her was an entirely different matter altogether. That was simply asking too much.

There was no doubt in his mind that he was attracted to Lady Adel, for this morning’s dream proved just that, but though he found her physically alluring, her personality left much to be desired. She was stubborn and independent and had made it clear on more than one occasion that his attempts to help protect her from unwanted suitors was not welcomed or appreciated. How could he marry someone who couldn’t appreciate his wisdom, someone who wouldn’t submit easily to his council? Why couldn’t Benedict have chosen a sweet and biddable woman to be his wife?

He hadn’t realized that he posed that last question aloud until Benedict responded with a loud guffaw. “Because, my friend, a sweet and biddable wife would have her spirit crushed under the enormity of your vanity and pride. There is not a sweet and biddable woman alive that I would wish that upon. No, your strong personality needs an equally strong woman to contend with it. I think Lady Adel will be an exemplary match for you.”

“You don’t even know her,” Griffin countered.

“Indeed I do not, but from what I have seen, I like her immensely. I am retracting my earlier offer of giving you a choice—Lady Adel it will be.”

Griffin groaned as he thrust his head into his hands and stared at the Oriental rug beneath his feet. “What are the conditions of the bet?” he grumbled.

“This isn’t a bet, so the conditions are limited. I know you will do the honorable thing, so I have no need to threaten or blackmail you.”

Griffin inwardly cringed at the mention of blackmail, for he still felt guilty for using the knowledge of Benedict’s father’s bastard child as blackmail in order to get him to satisfy the conditions of the wager he himself had issued.

Benedict continued, “My only condition is that you are engaged by the end of the season. And, seeing as how that is just around the corner, I suggest you make haste.”

Benedict rose from his chair and made to leave, pausing just long enough to pat the top of Griffin’s head and say, “I wish you the best of luck.”

I don’t need luck, Griffin thought as he listened to Benedict’s retreating footsteps. I need a blasted miracle. For surely that was the only way he’d ever get Lady Adel to agree to become his bride.

Adel’s eyes fluttered open as a sliver of early morning sunlight danced across her face. Reaching her hands high above her head, she stretched before throwing her legs over the edge of the bed and rising. Walking over to the window, she parted the thick curtains with one hand and glanced at the abandoned street below. It was far too early for anyone to be up and about, but Adel had become quite fond of the early morning hours when everything in her world seemed peaceful, where she wasn’t expected to keep up a cheery pretense for anyone, where she could simply be herself.

Slipping quietly from her room, she pulled her wrapper tightly around her cotton nightdress and tiptoed down the hall passing two closed doors until she soundlessly came to a halt in front of the third one. Adel let herself inside, knowing that the chances were high that she’d find her sister Katherine already awake. Neither of them had been able to sleep well since their mother’s passing.

It didn’t take long for her eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room, settling upon Katherine who was sitting at her dressing table, looking forlornly into the small looking glass that rested above the table. Adel glided across the room in silence and picked up the ivory-backed hairbrush that was sitting on the table. Katherine didn’t startle in the least when she noticed Adel had slid behind her and begun brushing her hair in long, comforting strokes. It had become a near daily ritual for the pair, and Adel sensed that Katherine had been waiting for her.

Katherine’s kind eyes found Adel’s in the looking glass. “Couldn’t sleep?” she asked softly.

“Not any more than I have to in order to survive.”

“Are the nightmares still occurring?”

Adel shrugged her shoulders in an attempt to appear casual and unconcerned, in an effort to not worry her sister. “Periodically. Though it has been awhile since the last one, thankfully.”

Katherine reached up and took the brush from Adel’s hand, setting it softly on the table. “Well, I will continue to pray that the bad dreams do not return. I do so hate seeing the dark smudges marring your delicate skin.”

Adel brushed her fingers gently underneath her eyes, as if she could erase the effects of her poor sleep from her face, though she knew it would be futile. She felt her bottom lip quiver, while in an unguarded moment between the sisters, she shakily admitted, “I just wish that we could go back in time, before mama left us.” She still couldn’t bring herself to say the word died out loud.

Katherine rose from her seat and flung her arms around Adel’s neck, somehow managing to make Adel feel childlike, though her sister was much smaller than she. A painful lump formed in Adel’s throat that made swallowing hard. She pinched her lips together in an effort to hold her emotions at bay. But, though she was successful at keeping the sobs from escaping her throat, she wasn’t able to keep the warm, salty tears prisoners in her eyes any longer.

One by one the tears coursed down her face, trailing off into her unbound hair. Her body shook silently as she cried, Katherine’s hand rubbing her back in much the same way her mother used to do when comforting her when she was upset. The small reminder of her mother only made her cry harder.

Pulling herself abruptly from Katherine’s arms, she clenched her fists at her side and sobbed. “This isn’t how I imagined my first season would be. I was supposed to be enjoying myself, with nary a lick of concern for anything other than what I would wear or whom I would flirt with. Instead, I find I can hardly think of anything but mother, and my resentment grows stronger by the day. She was supposed to be the one who presented me to the Queen. It is her whom I wish to converse with on our way back from our nightly entertainments, ruminating about which gentleman we preferred to dance with and the latest on dits of the
ton
, but instead we are trapped inside of our carriage listening to the grating sound of Aunt Tabitha’s snoring. It isn’t fair, Katherine, I want her back.”

“I do too,” Katherine muttered in such a sad voice that it made Adel begin sobbing once more.

Unable to bear her sister’s sadness any longer, Katherine grabbed her wrist and led her to sit on her unmade bed. Pulling her legs up beneath her, she tenderly brushed a damp tendril of Adel’s hair behind her ear. “I think I know what you need.”

“What do I need?” Adel asked sadly as she wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her wrapper.

“You need a dashing gentleman to sweep you off of your feet and distract you from your pain.”

Adel laughed despite her sadness. “Like a hero in some fairy tale? Someone who will come and rescue me from my tower of gloom?”

“Yes, precisely,” Katherine said, her face lighting up with a smile of her own. “Surely there is someone who would be eager to rescue such a fair maiden as you. Is there anyone you have met during our time in Town who strikes your fancy?”

“You know there is not; for if one had piqued my interest, you would be the first to know about it.”

“Well what about Lord Straton?”

Adel froze, Katherine’s query catching her completely off guard. “Are you meaning to tell me that you have a tendre for the man? Is that why you wish to speak of him?”

“Goodness, no,” Katherine giggled. “Though you cannot deny that he is enormously handsome.”

Truth be told, Adel could not deny it, but she was not about to tell Katherine that. “I think his overbearing manners distract from any other charms he may possibly possess.”

“Remember when we were younger and we’d imagine we were princesses?”

“Of course I do,” Adel breathed, relieved that Katherine was no longer talking about Lord Straton.

“Well than surely you remember how you always described your prince, the one who would rescue you from the fire breathing dragons or vengeful villains.” When Adel remained silent, Katherine continued, “Your prince always had dark hair and dark eyes with broad shoulders and the strength of ten men. He was confident and commanding and wanted nothing more than to rescue you from your awful plight, even at the risk of his own life. Whenever I see Lord Straton, I cannot help but recalling your youthful dreams, thinking that perhaps he will be the prince that comes and rescues you from your sadness.”

Adel felt uncomfortable as Katherine spoke. “Your imaginings are nothing but fanciful wishes. Lord Straton is nothing like the prince of my childhood dreams. He is arrogant and insensitive, and I highly doubt he would ever risk his own life for the welfare of another.”

“You judge him too harshly,” Katherine stated boldly.

“And you judge him too mercifully. You do not know enough of the man to be able to rightfully judge his character.”

“With all due respect, Adel, nor do you.”

Adel turned on Katherine, her agitation causing her voice to rise. “Suffice it to say that I know enough of the retched man’s character to deem him completely unsuitable for me. He will never be my prince.”

With that final heated statement, Adel rose, her earlier sadness having been replaced with anger. “I think I will return to my bedchamber and see if I can sleep a bit longer.”

Katherine gave her a sad smile. “Do not be mad at me, dear sister, for I can’t tolerate your displeasure towards me.”

“It’s not you I am displeased with,” she admitted honestly. “The mere mention of Lord Straton seems to have the power to set me on edge. Do forgive me.”

“But of course.”

Adel retreated to her room, grateful for her sister’s gentle kindness. She hadn’t meant to snap at her or make her feel as if her anger was directed towards her, but if Katherine had even the slightest glimpse into Lord Straton’s true nature, she would never again dare to liken him to a prince.

Adel climbed into her bed once more, her mind still reeling as she recalled the encounter with Lord Straton on the balcony several nights prior. She closed her eyes and tried to dispel the awful memory, praying that sleep would overtake her and give her a much needed reprieve.

***

Though she had been successful at falling back to sleep, by the time Adel had been dressed and readied for the day, prepared to join Katherine and Aunt Tabitha in the parlor, she did not feel anymore rested than she had before.

The parlor was nearly silent when Adel walked in. Katherine was sitting on the settee embroidering a wall hanging she had been working on for ages while Aunt Tabitha sat next to the fireplace reading a book of poetry.

Neither of them noticed Adel joining them until she cleared her throat softly. Both heads snapped up to look at her expectantly, though Aunt Tabitha’s was filled with concern. “Dear child, are you not feeling well? Katherine told me that you were up early this morning, unable to sleep.”

Adel waved away her aunt’s concern with one hand. “I feel much better now,” she lied as she went and sat next to Katherine on the settee, feigning an excessive amount of interest in her embroidery in hopes of deflecting any more questions.

Though Aunt Tabitha held her tongue, Adel could feel her shrewd eyes inspecting her person, and it made her rather uncomfortable. She didn’t want any attention or pity from anyone. In hindsight, her rare display of emotions this morning was an embarrassment. She felt foolish for breaking down in tears and blubbering over her mother to Katherine. She was usually the strong one of the pair. She was the oldest sister after all, and it was expected that she should set the example for Katherine.

Several minutes passed in stony silence before their butler, Edward, swept into the room. Holding a silver tray in one of his gloved hands, he bowed before Adel and stretched forth the tray, where a simple, nondescript white envelope sat. Adel reached forth and plucked the envelope from the tray, her heart beating frantically. She recognized the envelope for the simple fact that it did not have her name penned on the front.

“Thank you, Edward,” she said as she quickly rose and retreated to the window, her back towards Katherine and Aunt Tabitha. She wanted desperately to remove herself to the privacy of her bedchamber but she knew that would only rouse her family’s suspicion. Instead, she hunched her shoulders and slid her finger underneath the seal of the envelope and slid the sheet of parchment from the folds.

Dear Mrs. Tiddlyswan,

I am writing to inform you that your most recent contributions to the scandal sheet of the Morning Post have been mediocre at best. While
The Times
has been reporting the most salacious of gossip, you have merely been reporting on the most mundane of topics, such as the severely outdated apparel of Lady Smith. Your next contribution must return us to your former talent of reporting on the most scandalous and most intriguing on dits of the ton, or we will be forced to terminate our agreement with you.