“My lady, your heart outshines even your magnificent beauty.”
His intoxicating touch, his sincere words, his very presence was making her head spin. She was feeling things her mother had never described, feelings that confused her, for she wasn’t sure what they could mean.
As he pulled his hand slowly away from hers, one confusing thought settled into her heart. She wasn’t sure what she was beginning to feel for the unconventional earl, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to find out.
Chapter 7
The next day, Gillian was sitting in the drawing room working on embroidering a lettercase for her dear cousin Lillian when the butler came in and informed her and her mother that they had visitors. Gillian laid her embroidery gently on the arm of the settee and watched expectantly as her friend, Lady Lydia, and a strange gentleman she had never met before, entered the room.
The man was strikingly handsome with dark wavy hair that curled around his collar and vivid green eyes. She briefly wondered if perhaps her friend had a tendre for the man, for certainly she wouldn’t blame her if she did.
Lady Lydia rushed to her side, grabbing both of Gillian’s hands in her own. “Oh my friend, it has been far too long since I have paid you a visit.”
“I agree. Perhaps that gentleman has something to do with your absence as of late,” she said lowly as she tilted her head inconspicuously toward the stranger who was bowing before her mother.
Lady Lydia giggled. “Actually, that gentleman is to thank for our visit this afternoon. He is my cousin and begged me for an introduction to you.”
“Truly?” Gillian asked in surprise. “But I have never even seen the man before.”
“That is because he has only just arrived from the country this week. His first outing this season was the Trenton Ball where he first saw you, but he never had a chance to acquire a proper introduction.”
Gillian’s eyes scanned the man once more as he moved with her mother to her side. How odd that she wouldn’t have noticed him, she thought, for he was undeniably attractive, the very type of gentleman who would normally have garnered her attention.
“Gillian,” the duchess said as she interrupted Lady Lydia and herself. “I’d like to introduce you to the Viscount Evander. He has only just arrived from the country where he has been seeing to his ill mother’s well-being.”
“Pleased to meet you, Lord Evander,” she said sincerely. “My apologies that your mother has taken ill.”
Lord Evander raised her hand to his mouth and gently kissed her knuckles. “Indeed, the pleasure is all mine. And I thank you for your concern.”
Gillian’s curiosity got the best of her, and without even thinking she asked, “What is wrong with your poor mother?”
“Gillian, how impolite of you to ask,” her mother chided, embarrassed by her daughter’s boldness. Gillian briefly wondered, with irritation, when her mother would get used to her speaking her mind.
“Oh I do not mind at all,” Lord Evander quickly replied, smoothing over any awkwardness. “My mother has come down with pleurisy, but the physician assures me that she will recover in no time.”
“I am very delighted to hear that,” Gillian answered sincerely.
“As am I.”
“And how have your parents been, Lady Lydia? I have yet to see them in London this season,” the duchess asked politely.
“My parents have taken to Bath for a spell so my father can partake of the waters for his gout. My Aunt Harriet is chaperoning me until they return. If you ask me, I think my father only exaggerated his condition so he could have an excuse to be away from London. He grows increasingly more weary of the festivities of the season as the years go on.”
“Lady Lydia, I can see why you and my Gillian are such good friends. You both have a propensity for over-sharing.”
Lady Lydia appeared properly chastised as she lowered her eyes and her cheeks bloomed with color. Laughing, Gillian took her friends hand in her own. “Do not let mother’s words bother you. She is secretly pleased when a lady is bold.”
The Duchess of Chesley sucked in a shocked breath. “I absolutely am not, I abhor it.”
Sensing the tension in the air, Lord Evander once more broke in, “There is a time and a place for boldness, and it’s a ladies obligation to decipher when it is appropriate or not.” Gillian squinted her eyes at the man, her opinion of him lowering a tad. Fortunately, he redeemed himself when he continued to speak. “However, I myself am not offended by boldness in the least. I find it quite refreshing.”
Gillian grinned, highly impressed with the way he had just appeased her mother and herself at the same time—a rare feat indeed.
“My cousin and I must be on our way,” Lady Lydia said regretfully. “He has promised to take me into town to pick out a new bonnet since Aunt Harriet was too tired to go with me.”
“A very important errand, you understand,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Will you ladies be at the Barringtide Ball this evening?”
Gillian looked to her mother for confirmation. “We will,” said the duchess.
“Delightful,” Lord Evander beamed at Gillian. “I’d be honored if you’d save me a dance.”
“Most Certainly, my lord.”
“Your Grace, my lady,” he said as he bowed before them. “Until tonight.”
Gillian embraced Lady Lydia before bidding her farewell. They had barely left the room when her mother turned to her, her eyes alight with pleasure. “That man is the pinkest of the pinks. You would do well to encourage his attentions.”
Gillian smiled. For once they were in agreement.
***
Benedict had been avoiding his mother since he had returned from his ride through Hyde Park with Lady Gillian the prior day, which had proved to be no easy task. He had largely kept to his rooms, the only thing keeping him from dying of boredom was reliving the time he had spent with Lady Gillian over and over in his mind.
He had been pleasantly surprised to learn that the beautiful chit was not as superficial as he had anticipated. She was a diamond of the first water, but her beauty went far deeper than her appearance. He found himself increasingly fascinated with the girl and slowly, the challenge of winning her hand in marriage was starting to appeal to him greatly. He had been counting down the hours until the next ball, anxious to see her again.
For the first time since his friends had gifted him with his new wardrobe, he didn’t cringe when it was time to dress for the evening. He had great hopes that Lady Gillian was beginning to see past his appearance to the man he was on the inside. Perhaps this bet would be easier to win than he had first thought.
Benedict descended the stairs, dressed in a prehistoric tailcoat an unsightly shade of puce. It was long and billowy in the back, but the front was cut too short, exposing too much of his plum colored waist coat. The snug breeches he wore made it hard for him to bend at the knee, making his descent down the stairs slow and awkward. And to add to his horror, when he finally made it to the landing, his mother was waiting for him, dressed in a tasteful yet elegant dress suited for a woman in half mourning.
“Benedict, you have been avoiding me.”
He didn’t even bother lying. “That is true, Mother, I have.”
“Why?”
Benedict scratched his head, furiously trying to conjure an acceptable excuse. When none was forthcoming, he went on the defense. “I simply did not wish to be questioned about my choice of apparel. I am a grown man and do not need your interference.”
“Well, I believed your silly excuse yesterday and allowed you to go see to your errands dressed so indecorously, but I am putting my foot down tonight. I will not allow you to escort me to the Barringtide Ball looking like a dunce. You will be the laughingstock of the season, and I refuse to be party to that. It is going to be one of my first events back in society since your father passed away, and I do not want it tainted by your horrendous behavior.”
“Then stay home, because I am going dres
sed as I am and that is final.”
His mother sucked in a shocked breath as she began furiously fanning her face. For a moment, Benedict wondered if she was going to faint. Guilt tugged at his heart, but he refused to allow it full access knowing full well that if his mother found out about his father’s infidelity, it would affect her much more intensely than his silly attire or poor reputation ever would.
“You are not looking well, Mother. I think you should consider staying in for the evening and resting. Perhaps you aren’t quite ready to enter back into society. Surely the ton will understand that.” He sincerely hoped she would take his advice to heart.
Much to his chagrin, large pools of tears welled up in her eyes. “Benedict, why are you doing this to me? To yourself? Your father left you a vast fortune and a title and estate to be proud of. You can afford fine clothing, and you will need them if you wish to attract an acceptable wife. Perhaps you are not interested in that now, but someday you will meet a lady of quality who turns your head, and I would hate to see her not give you a second glance because of your poor appearance.”
Benedict’s mind wandered back to the conversation he’d had with Lady Gillian where she had begun to question society’s high estimation of appearances. “Mother, I do not wish to find a wife who is only concerned with vain and frivolous things. I wish to find a wife who is interested in more than the cut of my clothing, who is interested in the man I am inside.”
His mother searched his face in that uncomfortable way only a mother could, with an odd mixture of love and disappointment. “Oh Benedict, is this a scheme you have concocted in hopes of finding a wife who is not shallow?”
“Perhaps, but my reasons do not matter. I am a grown man and do not find the need to justify my every decision to you.” Benedict knew his words sounded harsh, but the pain that filled his mother’s eyes made him feel like the lowest of cads.
“I think you are right, I am not feeling well. I will not be going to the ball tonight after all.” His mother held her head high as she shouldered past him, but as she began making her way up the stairs he saw her shoulders slump and he felt horrible.
“Mother,” he called out to her. “Please forgive me for speaking so harshly.”
“Never mind,” she said, not even bothering to turn around. “You are a grown man; you do not need to explain your actions to me. You’re opinion has been duly noted, and I will not interfere with your life again.”
Benedict was speechless. He had never felt so horrible in all of his life. He tried to temper his guilt the entire way to the ball, but that just resulted in his guilt being replaced with an anger directed at his bacon-brained friends. By the time he reached the ball, he was steaming and ready to plant a facer to each one of their perfectly sculpted faces.
The thought of seeing Lady Gillian was the only thing that helped elevate his mood and alleviate his yearning desire to call out his friends. By the time he walked into the ballroom, he had only barely managed to replace his anger with the desire to behold her lovely face.
The Barringtide ball was a veritable crush, he thought as he shrewdly scanned the occupants trying to locate Lady Gillian. His gaze paused on every brunette he beheld, anxious to find the one person he had come to see. He found her dancing merrily with a gentleman he didn’t know. The man was tall and undoubtedly handsome and looking down upon Lady Gillian with unmistakable interest. A twinge of jealousy furled within him as he watched Lady Gillian laugh at something the man said. He hardly noticed the dance end, or his friends making their way to him until he heard Griffin speak.
“Ah Beni, you are looking splendid tonight! Do tell us how Lady Gillian liked the poem we wrote.”
“Yes,” Marcus interjected. “Please do tell us everything.”
“She hated it,” Benedict spit out between clenched teeth. “Just as you knew she would.”
Warren had the gall to look offended. “Lud! How could she have hated such an eloquently written verse? I’ll have you know that we spent almost an entire quarter of an hour writing that poem.”
“A quarter of an hour? It’s no wonder it was so impressive,” Benedict said sarcastically.
“Do you think you could do better?” Marcus asked.
“A child still in the schoolroom could do better.”
“Well then,” Griffin said with glee, “I think I will issue a challenge. If you are so sure that you can do better, I insist that you write Lady Gillian a poem and present it to her. See if she will receive it any more favorably than she did the one we wrote.”
“Consider it done,” Benedict grumbled.
“I can hardly wait to hear your report.”
Chapter 8
Benedict could barely tolerate his friends company in his current mood. He had always gone to great lengths to show his mother respect and maintain her favor, so the way he had hurt her tonight was bothering him immensely. And it was their fault, he rationalized.
His eyes scanned the ballroom once more, hoping to find Lady Gillian so he could ask her to dance. When a careful perusal of the room resulted in nothing, he turned to Warren, who was the tallest of the bunch and asked, “Can you spot Lady Gillian?”
Warren silently scanned the crowds. “Indeed I cannot. I wonder where the chit has gotten off to.”
That was exactly what Benedict was wondering. A panic began to fill him, for he had last seen her on the arm of the handsome stranger, and he knew, having once been a rake himself, exactly what the man was capable of doing to an innocent and beautiful lady. He had to find her and make sure she was safe.
He raced across the room, walking at a brisk pace, to the French doors that were leading to the balcony. He knew that many a women were ruined under the light of the silver moon. His heart was beating frantically, fearful of what he anticipated seeing as he stepped out into the cool of the night. Several couples stopped conversing long enough to give him a curious stare, but it appeared that no untoward activity was occurring, and Lady Gillian most definitely was not among them.
He exhaled slowly, relieved that she was not out there with that rogue. But, his relief was short lived, for he knew there were many other possibilities. His mind instantly conjured up the library. How many women had he, himself, stolen a kiss from in the quite solitude of one library or another? Too many to count.
His anxiousness increased as he approached the library and found the door closed. He forced his ragged breathing to still as he leaned his ear against the door and attempted to hear what was going on inside. When he couldn’t hear anything, he laid his hand on the knob and slowly twisted it in an attempt to silently crack the door. He did not wish to barge in and make a cake of himself if Lady Gillian was not inside.
He thanked the heavens that the Barringtide’s hinges were well oiled as the door opened a crack without making a peep. He leaned in closely and heard a tinkling laughter fill the room. Lady Gillian’s laughter, to be exact. His mind instantly conjured up images of the devilish rogue flirting outlandishly with the girl to illicit such a response. He was just about to force his way in when he heard a second voice, a woman’s voice.
“I think he is rather handsome, despite his awful clothing.” Benedict tried to place the voice without success as more giggling ensued. Was the girl referring to him?
“It’s a wonder that somebody hasn’t attempted to aid the man. He is making himself a laughingstock amongst the ton,” said another unfamiliar voice.
“Apparently they have.” Lady Gillian was speaking now. “His friends told me themselves that they are the reason to thank for his current appearance. Apparently he was worse before they stepped in to help.”
“Marcus said that?” asked a vaguely familiar voice. “My brother has an eye for fashion, I can hardly believe he couldn’t do better. Perhaps he wasn’t involved.” Ah ha! The voice belonged to Marcus’s little sister, Serena.
“I’m pretty certain he has taken at least some of the credit, along with Lord Dawkins and Lord Straton.”
“Lord Straton was involved?” yet another lady asked shrilly. “Can he not keep his nose out of anyone’s affairs? I have half a mind to give him the cut direct the next time he tries to interfere in my own life. The man is a menace.”
Benedict wanted to laugh. It seemed that whoever the lady was, she was certainly no fan of Griffin’s, which gave him a perverse sort of pleasure. He didn’t allow himself the pleasure of contemplating on that thought long, however, because he didn’t want to miss a single word of the conversation going on in the library. Putting his ear up to the crack, he strained to hear what was being said.
“Lord Straton is just concerned that you will be taken advantage of in your vulnerable state,” Miss Graham attempted to appease the girl whose voice he didn’t recognize.
“La! I am not vulnerable, and he would do well to realize that before I am forced to be rude to him.”
“You wouldn’t do that. The man is positively handsome and well connected,” Lady Gillian pointed out and Benedict seethed. She thought his friend was handsome? To the devil with Griffin, he inwardly cursed, as jealously nearly blinded him.
A deep sigh could be heard, followed by, “That is undoubtedly true, and the only reason I haven’t turned the man out by now. His handsomeness makes him hard to ignore.” Another round of giggles followed and Benedict failed to see what was so humorous.
When the room fell silent, Benedict decided to leave before he was caught eavesdropping on the girls. It was apparent that Lady Gillian was not in immediate danger, and his assistance would no longer be needed to keep her safe.
He was about to turn from the door when he heard Miss Graham say softly, “He wasn’t always that way, you know.”
“You mean Lord Straton hasn’t always been an arrogant and overbearing brute?”
“I was speaking of Lord Danford. I can’t help but feel sorry for the man. He used to be quite the rake before he left the country years ago. There was always an overplus of ladies vying for his attention, and when word of his father’s death got out, I know of at least a handful of mother’s who began scheming on how they could get their daughter to wed him. Now, it seems that no one is anxious for their daughter to be associated with him, all because of his unfashionable attire.”
Unconventional Suitors 01 - Her Unconventional Suitor Page 6
