Unconventional Suitors 02 - Her Unconventional Hero (5 page)

“Nothing quite that extreme. However, I am thinking of quitting the season and retiring to Brackingham Abbey to give myself a much needed separation from the suspense. I find I have not been sleeping well since I learned that we had lost the bet.”

“Coward,” Griffin hissed.

Marcus took a long sip of champagne, appearing rather unaffected by Griffin’s insult. “I prefer to call it self-preservation, not cowardice.”

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” Warren piped in.

Both Marcus and Griffin looked at him, perplexed. “Since when did you start quoting Shakespeare?”

“Since I learned that I have the task of wooing Miss Graham. It would seem that Benedict thinks we will make a splendid match.” The smile that formed on Warren’s thin lips seemed anything if not pleased by the situation.

The idea, however, had an entirely different effect on Marcus. He turned on Warren, his blue eyes flashing dangerously. “You lie! Benedict did not choose my sister to be your wife.”

Warren laughed, clearly amused by Marcus’s anger. “Oh, but he did. And I find that I am not as disappointed with the result of the lost bet as I initially thought I might be.”

“If it is true, why did Benedict not inform me of his decision this morning when I called on him?” Marcus asked, a small trace of hope and suspicion tinging his words.

“That I do not know. He informed me of his choice just this evening. Perhaps he hadn’t made up his mind when you spoke with him earlier.”

Marcus leaned in towards Warren and hissed, “Stay away from my sister.” His fists were clenched tightly at his sides as if he wished to land a facer to Warren’s smug face.

“I think I will be better off listening to Benedict this time,” Warren remarked casually, unconcerned by Marcus’s anger.

At the mention of Benedict’s name, Marcus’s head snapped towards the dance floor, looking for the man who had angered him so. “Where is that slow top? I will kill him with my own hands before I allow him to dictate whom my sister will wed.”

Griffin watched with amusement as Marcus stalked off in pursuit of Benedict. “This I would like to see,” he mumbled to Warren who nodded his head in agreement.

Griffin was ever so grateful for the distraction his friends provided, for he would hate to be swallowed up by the memory of Lady Adel’s blatant refusal of him. How was he expected to wed a woman who clearly wanted nothing to do with him? The thought only served to depress him further. So much for his ambition of marrying an agreeable and eager to please woman who would feel lucky to have him as her husband.

Griffin and Warren stood next to each other in silence, their eyes locked on the heated debate between Marcus and Benedict. Marcus’s face was an angry shade of red, belaying his fierce anger. Lady Danford placed herself between the men and within minutes, the two fled from the ballroom, presumably to take their argument to a much more private location.

Disappointed that he was not able to see the conclusion of the confrontation, Griffin turned to Warren and asked, “Are you truly excited about wedding Miss Graham? She is much younger than you and just so…sisterly.”

“Fiend seize it, Griffin. Do you view every lady of the
ton
in a familial fashion?”

The look Warren was giving him made him feel like a fatwit. “Of course not, you fool. I have had my fair share of conquests. There are plenty of ladies who evoke in me something besides a brotherly affection, but Miss Graham is most definitely not one of them. We have known her her entire life, have watched her grow up from the schoolroom on. I suppose she is pleasant enough to look at, but hell’s bells Warren, she’s Marcus’s sister!”

Warren’s normally stoic demeanor crumpled at Griffin’s little outburst, twisting into an angry scowl instead. “I suggest,” he spit out acidly, “that you concentrate your efforts on your own dilemma and keep your opinions to yourself regarding mine. I will not have you speaking ill of Miss Graham ever again.”

With that, Warren took his leave. Griffin stared after him, trying to recall what exactly he had said about Miss Graham that had been so offensive. He had merely pointed out the fact that she was like a sister to them. What was so disrespectful about that? Exhaustion overcame him as he thought of all the frustrating turns the night had taken.

He had just made up his mind to quit the ball and return home when a silky voice from behind him cooed, “Lord Straton, I was beginning to think you had forgotten our dance.”

Griffin turned to behold Lady Grace standing before him, a vision in lavender silk. “Of course not,” he lied as he smiled down on her and hooked her arm through his, leading her out onto the dance floor.

Just this one dance, he told himself, than he would leave and nothing was going to stop him.

Adel returned from the retiring room, feeling an overwhelming relief at the prospect of having some new gossip to report. She quickly found Aunt Tabitha and Katherine amongst the crush and quickly made her way to them.

“Wherever have you been?” Aunt Tabitha asked with concern.

“I just came from the retiring room.”

“Are you feeling well, child?”

“Why do you keep asking me that?” Adel snapped, sounding more irate than she meant to. Aunt Tabitha looked stunned that she would address her so, causing Adel to feel instant remorse. It must be the lack of sleep as of late that was making her act so out of character.

“‘Tis only that you are so pale, and the dark circles under your eyes have given me concern. If you wish, we can return home so you can rest.”

Adel was thoughtful for a moment. Though the idea of going home sounded enormously pleasing, she truly wanted to find out the name of the mystery lady before they left. “No, that will not be necessary. I would feel nothing but guilt at the thought that it was I who had robbed Katherine’s suitors of her lovely presence.”

Katherine giggled at her side. “You know that is not true. For not a single gentleman pays me any mind, especially when you are around.”

Adel felt guilty, for she knew that it was true, but what her sister lacked in appearance, she more than made up for in character. Katherine had the kindest, most gentle soul, and whoever ended up claiming her as their wife would be a lucky man indeed.

Adel looped her arm through Katherine’s. “Enough of this nonsense. Let’s take a stroll around the room.”

Katherine nodded agreeably. They chattered along as they walked, but Adel was only half paying attention to the conversation as her eyes roamed the room looking for the lady she had been eavesdropping on earlier. When she finally spotted the lady, she was not surprised in the least to see that she was partnered with Lord Straton in the quadrille. Of course he would associate himself with a lady who blackmails men into getting what she wants, the unsavory character that he was.

“Katherine,” Adel cut her sister off mid-sentence. “Do you know who that lady is in the lavender dress?”

Katherine stood on tip toe and craned her neck to see above the crowds. “Which one? There are several wearing that very shade of purple.”

“The one dancing with Lord Straton.”

Katherine looked at her quizzically. “Why do you ask?”

Adel bristled beside her. “I am not jealous, if that is what you are implying. I have simply never seen her before and wished to know who she was.” Adel always felt the worst lying to Katherine, though she knew her morally conscious and upright sister would never condone her writing for
The Morning Post,
making it impossible for her to confide in her, though at times she had longed to do just that.

“Truthfully, I do not recall ever seeing her either. The quadrille is just ending, why do you not go ask for an introduction?”

“Perhaps I will,” Adel said, knowing full well she wouldn’t. She couldn’t risk having any interaction with the lady and placing herself in a position of suspicion.

Much to Katherine’s delight, a gentleman came and asked her hand for the next dance, which left Adel completely alone, watching as Lord Straton escorted the mystery lady off of the floor. Biting down the irritation she felt at having to speak to the oaf again, she swallowed her pride and faked enough courage to square her shoulders and march right over to where Lord Straton was standing.

The first thing Adel noticed as she approached was that a thick lock of black hair had fallen roguishly across his forehead, making him appear even more wickedly handsome than normal. She inwardly chastised herself for thinking him handsome and forced herself to stare straight at his cravat while she spoke so as not to be distracted by his appearance.

“Excuse me, Lord Straton, I would beg a moment of your time, if I must.”

“If you must?” he asked dryly. Adel kept her eyes focused tightly on his cravat, noting the simple diamond stick pin that was encased within the folds of stark white fabric. “Have you reconsidered my earlier offer and come to tell me you have accepted my proposal?”

Adel’s eyes snapped up to his in horror. She had not even considered that he might possibly draw that conclusion. “On the contrary, my lord. I do not wish to accept your proposal, nor do I wish to ever speak of it again. I simply wished to ask you the name of the lady you were just dancing with, that is all.”

For a moment Adel imagined she saw a brief flicker of disappointment in his eyes, but quickly convinced herself that was a foolish notion. Lord Straton did not wish to marry her, he was just upset that his pride had been wounded was all.

Giving her a rakish smile, Lord Straton reached for her arm, looping it through his as he headed towards the dance floor. “What are you doing?” Adel asked as she tried to pull her arm from his.

“You cannot be so bold to come seeking a favor from me without being so courteous as to give me one in return. I will give you the information you seek in exchange for a dance.”

Adel bristled at his side, but did not withdraw her hand. One dance was surely a fair exchange for the lady’s name. As they found a spot amongst the plethora of couples on the floor, the orchestra struck up a waltz. Adel pulled her hand back sharply and glared at Lord Straton, “You did this on purpose. You knew it would be a waltz.”

Lord Straton ignored her discomfort and pulled her into his arms, his hand going around her waist and settling on her back protectively. “Ah yes. Did you not witness me bribing the orchestra to play a waltz next in between the time I escorted my last partner from the floor and the time that you approached?”

Adel rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. Perhaps the fact that the orchestra struck up a waltz at that very moment was purely coincidental.

He continued, “Why are you so adverse to dancing the waltz with me?”

Adel tried to ignore the way his warm breath caressed her face as he spoke. “Because I do not wish to be held so intimately in your arms. I would hate for you to get the wrong impression.”

She knew it wasn’t just her imagination, for surely his grip on her tightened just then. “You consider this an intimate embrace, my lady?” He purred huskily in her ear. She couldn’t help the shiver of delight that started in her chest and slithered down her entire body. Why was he doing this to her, the rake? And why was her body betraying her?

When she didn’t answer him, he laughed lowly, “Perhaps your silence speaks louder than any words.”

Refusing to analyze her body’s foreign response to the vexing man, Adel shook her head clear and snapped, “I refuse to discuss this with you. The only matter I wish to discuss is the name of the lady you were previously dancing with.”

Lord Straton led her around another couple to avoid an embarrassing collision before he responded. “You refuse to discuss my marriage proposal. You also refuse to discuss my intimate embrace—your description, not mine. What if likewise, I chose to be just as uncooperative, refusing to discuss the lady in questions name?”

Adel stopped in her tracks, pulling Lord Straton to an awkward halt.

“You cannot make a scene,” he said after the briefest of pauses before pulling her effortlessly back into the dance. “You will keep dancing lest you draw unwanted attention to us both.”

She knew that he was right, though it vexed her that she had to comply with his demands. “But we had a deal, my lord. A dance for the name. If you refuse to cooperate, I refuse to finish this dance, consequences be damned.”

This time it was Lord Straton who stumbled, clearly affronted by her unladylike language. “You don’t really mean that.”

“Oh but I do,” she assured him.

“Finish this dance without another slip of your tongue and you will have the information you wish.”

“Very well,” she reluctantly agreed, though she didn’t feel a bit contrite.

Adel remained silent as Lord Straton continued to lead her across the dance floor. She was desperately trying to ignore the way his large hand seemed to singe through her gown where his thumb, every so often, rubbed small circles between her shoulder blades. He smelled of clean linen and a musky scent that was uniquely his own and which she found highly distracting. Surely this was the longest waltz in all of history, she thought as she kept waiting for it to come to an end.

“Have you not been sleeping well, my lady?” Adel was startled by the intrusion of Lord Straton’s deep voice upon her thoughts.

“Why do you ask?” she snapped coolly.

“I can’t help noticing the dark circles under your eyes.” When Adel blushed, he quickly added, “Do not worry, they aren’t noticeable from a distance. Perhaps I am only noticing them because I am holding you so closely, so
intimately
.”

“Am I to believe you are actually experiencing some concern for my sleeping habits? Or are you just gratified by your ability to point out one of my numerous flaws?”

“Is it so hard to believe that I may be concerned about you?”

“Actually, my lord, it is. I find it quite out of character for you.”

“Just the other eve you accused me of interfering too often in your life, now you are dismayed by the fact that I am expressing some genuine concern for your well-being. You are a confusing woman, my lady.”