She held up the limp flowers she was still holding, “But you have already given me these.”
“Do you like them?” he asked eagerly. Gillian nibbled on her bottom lip, contemplating what to say. But, before she could answer, he continued, “I debated whether I should bring you some tulips or some zinnia’s, but I was afraid they would just get lost amongst the array of flowers you were certain to have received. Instead, I brought you the pansies, hoping they would stand out amongst the ostentatious arrangements.”
“Well, then you have succeeded, for they certainly do stand out,” she admitted as she extended her arm towards her mother. “Mother, could you find a vase to put these in?”
Her mother took the flowers and rose. “I will return momentarily. I will leave the door open so as to keep up the proper appearance.”
Gillian nodded, then watched as her mother left, before turning her attention back to Lord Danford. “Tell me what else you brought for me,” she urged, most anxious to know what the curious man was about.
Lord Danford pulled a piece of parchment from his jacket pocket, then leaned forward on his elbows and cleared his throat. “I wrote you a poem.”
“Truly?” Gillian asked. “No one has ever written me a poem before. How delightful. Do read it.”
Lord Danford held the paper out before him.
“My darling Lady Gillian,
who’s eyes shine like the brightest marigold.
You are a vision to behold.
Have you been told?
You dance like a gliding swan,
and your hair is the color of a fawn.
If I was an artist, I would draw you.”
Gillian waited with baited breath to see if he was done. When it became apparent that the poem was over, she laughed. “That’s it?”
“Do you not like it?” he asked, more seriously than she would have expected.
“With all due respect, my lord, you are certainly no Byron. It is the worst poem I have ever heard.”
Lord Danford surprised her by laughing, his previous somber look melting away as he crumpled the parchment into a ball. “Then we are in agreement, my lady.”
Gillian jumped from her seat. “Do not throw it out, for surely something so dreadful deserves to be remembered.” Extending her hand towards him she said, “Please, I insist on keeping it, if only to further humor me when I am down.”
Lord Danford placed the crumpled ball in her hand. “Very well. At least it served to humor you, my lady.”
“You are not offended?” she asked, somewhat surprised as she uncrumpled the parchment and attempted to smooth it.
“Not in the least. Now you are aware that I am not to be considered a poet.”
“Is there anything else I should know about you?” she asked, somewhat in jest.
“Ah, Lady Gillian, you would be surprised at all the secrets I keep hidden.”
Her eyes searched his gray ones, curious as to what he could possibly mean.
Chapter 6
Gillian chose to wear a yellow sprigged muslin walking dress on her ride with Lord Danford. She completed the look by wearing one of her favorite bonnets—a chip straw bonnet trimmed with a yellow silk ribbon and tiny white rosebuds. One elegant, white feather arched delicately over the bonnet, making her look rather sophisticated.
Her nerves were strung tight as she paced back and forth in the pink drawing room, waiting for Lord Danford to arrive. Though she found the earl oddly amusing, she wasn’t anticipating being seen with him in Hyde Park during the fashionable hour. She feared that being seen with him could damage her reputation beyond repair. She would never have agreed to go riding with him if she hadn’t been so anxious for an excuse to be rid of Lord Stephen. Her mother was not making matters any better.
“Gillian, you do not need to go. I can have the butler give Lord Danford word that you have taken ill.” It wasn’t the first time that her mother had suggested such an idea. The idea of Gillian being seen with Lord Danford was even more unsettling to her mother than it was to her, for her mother would not let the matter drop.
Gillian paused, feeling guilty at the thought of lying to the earl. Though she experienced the same trepidation as her mother, she couldn’t help but feeling somewhat shallow at her judgment of the man. Despite his poor taste in clothing, he had done nothing to warrant her ill opinion.
“Mother, it is only one ride. How much harm can it do?”
“You are too naïve child. I should forbid you to go.”
“But you won’t,” Gillian said with a smile. Her mother was often full of steam, but rarely did her steam produce more than a mild discomfort.
The duchess sighed. “Very well. But I refuse to allow you to further your acquaintance with the man. You will do well not to encourage his affections. There are plenty of proper gentleman eager to court you, and I insist you save your attention for them.”
Gillian bristled. She didn’t like her mother dictating to her what she could and couldn’t do. She had always been that way since she was but a child—if her mother insisted there was something she couldn’t do, it only served to compel her in the opposite direction. Her father often lamented at her stubbornness, but she knew that he was secretly pleased that she wasn’t easily persuaded to do what others thought was best for her.
“Mother, you will just have to trust me that I will make good decisions. I always do.”
“Most of the time, at least,” her mother relented with a smile.
Their butler stepped stoically into the room, with Lord Danford, and announced, “The Earl of Danford has arrived.”
Much to their disappointment, Lord Danford was wearing the same horrid clothing he had worn during his morning call. Gillian had the sudden urge to tell him how much better he would look if only he would allow himself to be fitted for some proper clothing. She had to bite her tongue to keep from blurting out her observation as he bowed before her.
“Lady Gillian, you are a vision. That shade of yellow serves to enhance your complexion splendidly.”
Gillian smiled. How odd that he could offer her a sincere compliment on her clothing while being completely oblivious to his own fashion shortcomings. “Thank you, my lord.”
Lord Danford bowed before her mother, taking the duchess’s hand and kissing her knuckles lightly, all the while either oblivious to or ignoring the fact that the duchess was repulsed by his touch. They bade her farewell; then the earl escorted her outside where a stylish barouche was waiting, an impeccably dressed groom sitting on the bench holding the reigns to a pair of high quality horses.
Gillian turned her head to the earl, her mouth agape. “Is this your equipage?”
Lord Danford smiled proudly. “It is. You seem surprised.”
That was an understatement. The man was a mystery. He clearly had an eye for fashionable vehicles, while remaining completely ignorant of the fact that his attire was embarrassingly out of style.
When Gillian failed to answer, the earl chuckled and said, “Let me assist you up.” She nodded and allowed him to assist her into the barouche, mentally taking note of his masculine hands as they held firmly to hers.
As soon as the groom directed the barouche away from the curb of her townhouse, Gillian’s eyes dropped to Lord Danford’s hands that were sitting casually in his lap. His fingers were long, his nails clean and short. They were covered lightly with dark hair that disappeared into the sleeves of his coat. She experienced an odd desire to reach out and clasp his hand, to feel her own small hand being engulfed by his much larger one.
Gillian stiffened at the foreign thought, unconsciously pulling her hands tightly into her own lap as if she feared she might actually reach for his if she didn’t. She shook the unsettling thoughts from her head and hastily asked, “Where is your favorite place you have been to during your travels?”
Lord Danford lounged back on the seat and rubbed his splendidly masculine hand across his jaw as he contemplated her question. “It’s too hard for
me to pick just one favorite, for I enjoyed aspects of every country I visited.”
“But certainly there had to be one place that stood out more than the others,” she pried.
Lord Danford was thoughtful once more. “If I had to pick the one place that fascinated me the most, I’d have to say Rome. Ancient architecture and history abound on every street corner. I can’t begin to describe to you the feelings of wonder I experienced as I strolled through the Piazza della Rotonda and beheld the Pantheon for the first time. Imagine seeing a building nearly seventeen hundred years old and being able to go inside of it.”
His voice grew animated as he continued his passionate speech. “The Corinthian columns thwart you as you make your way inside the enormous dome. I had a sacred experience as I stood in the center of the rotunda and looked up into the oculus and beheld the sky above. In that moment I felt so small and insignificant, yet strangely enough, in that precise moment I also felt as if I had a greater, unlimited potential that I was just beginning to realize.” He paused and was thoughtful for a moment. Gillian held her breath, waiting for him to continue. He turned to her then, his eyes softening as he said, “I think we all do, if we could just figure out what our purpose is.”
Gillian stared at him in awe, a strange feeling blossoming in her breast as he spoke. Without thinking, she blurted, “I want to experience Rome with you.”
The widest smile broke out on Lord Danford’s face, and it took her breath away. In that moment, regardless of his clothing, she thought him the most handsome man she had ever seen.
“With me?” he asked, clearly amused.
Gillian twisted her skirts in her hands as she stammered, “Well you would make a good tour guide, would you not?”
“I suppose,” he laughed. “Though it wouldn’t be proper for us to travel together unless we were wed.”
Gillian fumbled for her fan, which she quickly opened and used to hide the blush she felt creeping up her neck. “You are too bold, my lord.”
“Then we shall get along well together, for certainly you do not shy away from speaking your mind either.”
He was right. Gillian wasn’t sure how to respond but it seemed she didn’t have to for Lord Danford deftly changed the subject. “How are you enjoying the season thus far?”
Gillian’s eye lit up, grateful to be conversing about something far more safe. “Oh, I’m simply adoring it. I’ve waited for years to be able to come to London and attend the balls and the routs and all the other various entertainments offered by the ton. My little sister, Phoebe, is positively seething with envy. My father arranged for her to stay in the country with my Aunt Miranda while we are in London. He is afraid of the trouble she would cause if she were here. She is quite the precocious thing and very adept at getting into mischief. She still has another year before her coming out.”
“Only a year? Her season will be here before she knows it. Is she your only sibling?”
“No,” Gillian answered. “I have a younger brother as well, but he is nothing but an irritant to Phoebe and I. He thinks it great sport to put frogs in our bed or present us with mud pies when we are dressed in some of our finest clothing.”
“Ah, he sounds like a normal, healthy young boy.”
“I suppose, but I do hope he grows out of his antics eventually. He was born several years after my mother gave up hope of ever having any more children, so I suppose he has many years yet to mature. Were you so precarious as a boy?”
Benedict was thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose I was, though I wasn’t fortunate enough to have any siblings to pester. My poor governess was forced to endure the brunt of my youthful antics and to say she was less than pleased would be an understatement.”
Gillian giggled. “Why boys find so much amusement in being nettlesome is beyond me.”
“I’m afraid that some of us do not grow out of our yearning for amusement.”
“But certainly you have. Right, my lord?”
Benedict raised one dark, thick brow. “Do I have to answer that truthfully?”
“Oh, is this one of those mysterious secrets you keep hidden?” she asked playfully.
“Perhaps,” he said through a smile as he slid closer to her on the bench. “However, I am willing to reveal the truth to you if you are willing to share one of your secrets with me.”
Gillian gulped nervously. “Secrets, my lord? I do not have any.”
“I highly doubt that,” he said as his eyes pierced hers. “Tell me just one,” he urged as his voice lowered to a sultry whisper. Their eyes locked and a heated current sizzled between them. Everything faded around them, and for a moment, Gillian wondered if he was going to kiss her.
His head lowered towards hers, one lock of dark hair falling casually across his forehead. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the feel of his lips on hers, but they were startled open when instead she heard him say, “We are approaching the entrance to the park. This is my first ride through Hyde Park since my return.”
Gillian’s breathing was quick and it took her a moment to realize that he wasn’t going to kiss her or attempt to pry her secrets out of her. Had she been foolish to think he was going to? “How delightful that I get to enjoy so many of your firsts with you since your return; first the waltz, and now this,” she said airily, trying to pretend as if the odd moment they had just shared had not occurred.
His eyes danced with mischief as he lowered his voice, “There are many more enjoyable firsts I wouldn’t mind experiencing with you.”
Gillian felt her cheeks heat and wondered if he could somehow read the longing on her face. Her mother’s warning not to encourage his attentions played in her mind. She turned her head quickly away from him and pretended to be overly interested in the scenery passing before them as they entered the park.
Gillian felt the bench shift as Lord Danford slid close to her, though she refused to look at him. Her senses were on high alert as she felt the heat radiating from his body. She could hear his even breathing and wondered what he was doing. The smell of bayberry enveloped her, and she unintentionally breathed deeply of his masculine scent, a scent that seemed to be mixed with moth balls. Moth balls? Gillian released her breath, the desire for his touch going with it. Perhaps she needed to boldly offer him some advice if he ever wished to find himself a bride.
She turned her head quickly and nearly knocked his face with the brim of her bonnet. His head whipped back to avoid the encounter, but before she lost her nerve, she blurted, “Have you thought much about finding a wife, my lord?”
Lord Danford looked nonplussed as he eyed her bonnet as if it were a weapon, “Actually, it has been on my mind more frequently as of late. Why do you ask?”
Twisting her skirt nervously in her hands, she continued, “I do not wish to give you any offense, my lord, but perhaps I could offer you a little helpful advice in your pursuit.”
She watched as the earl’s dark eyebrows scrunched together over his gray eyes as he looked at her quizzically. She was about to open her mouth and advise him to find a proper tailor, when a voice from behind her startled her.
“Lady Gillian, Lord Danford, what a pleasure to see you both out and about on this fine day.”
Gillian turned her head to see Lord Dawkins sitting atop his stallion, cantering closely to the earl’s barouche.
Gillian gave the man a relieved smile. Perhaps he would be able to assist her in convincing the earl to update his wardrobe. “I was just about to tell Lord Danford about my father’s tailor and the splendid work he does.”
Gillian watched with surprise as Lord Dawkins mouthed “no” then quickly looked past her to see if Lord Danford had noticed. Why had he told her to not continue? Perhaps the earl’s clothing choice was a very sensitive topic and Lord Dawkins was simply sparing her the discomfort. She clamped her mouth shut in frustration and watched as Lord Dawkins called out greetings to nearly everyone they passed, drawing curious glances in their direction.
Gillian didn
’t miss the disdainful looks many of the gentleman were giving Lord Danford, nor did she miss the pitying looks sent her way from the ladies. At first she was tempted to feel embarrassed, but the more she thought about it, the more angry she became. How unfair it was that society was judging her by the gentleman at her side. And, how unfair that they were judging Lord Danford by his apparel without really knowing the quality of the man. But such was the way with the ton. For the first time in her life, Gillian began to doubt the way of society, and it unsettled her greatly.
After what felt like an eternity, Lord Dawkins bid them farewell to go and speak with another acquaintance. Lord Danford turned to her as if he had been anxiously awaiting the moment his friend left. He lowered his voice and asked, “Are their impolite stares making you uncomfortable?”
Gillian blushed. So he had noticed her discomfort. “I shouldn’t care what they think, but—“
“You do,” he stated certainly, albeit sadly.
Gillian gave him her own sad, apologetic smile. “It’s not so much that I care what they think, personally, but it just occurred to me how ridiculous and unfair it is that society judges a man, or woman, so fully on appearances.”
“Everybody does it,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“But perhaps it isn’t correct. I think there is more to a person than what their wardrobe dictates.”
Lord Danford smiled slightly, leaning forward to place one hand ever so gently on top of hers. “How ironic to hear such sentiments from a nonpareil such as yourself.”
Gillian couldn’t think straight with his magnificent hand resting lightly atop hers. “Do not get me wrong. I do like to keep up on the latest fashions and attempt to look my best. I’m only saying that perhaps the outward appearance is less important than the heart of a—“
“Man?”
“Or woman,” she quickly added. “Perhaps you have already come to that conclusion yourself,” she said as her eyes inadvertently shifted over his clothing.
He surprised her then by lifting her hand to his mouth and placing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. She could feel the scorching heat through the fabric of her gloves which caused her to shiver.
Unconventional Suitors 01 - Her Unconventional Suitor Page 5
