Unconventional Suitors 01 - Her Unconventional Suitor

by Ginny Hartman

  Benedict finished reading then looked up at his mother. “I cannot believe that there is nothing more important for the ton to talk about then the unfortunate tear in my dress coat.”

  “It is the reason behind the tear, Benedict, that gives cause for scandal. You are embarrassing me beyond measure these days, first with your awful clothing and secondly by parading that awful clothing around so indecorously, even causing Mrs. Tiddlyswan to take notice.”

  “Mother, the gossip mill must have been slow as of recent, for the Barringtide ball was a week ago. And since when did a ripped seam become fascinating enough to make the gossip pages? Not a single ball or dinner party goes by without someone tearing an article of clothing. It is the reason that one can find a needle and thread in any retiring room in London.”

  “Stop trying to placate me, son. I am not merely upset that your seam tore. I am upset that you are parading around London in such shabby clothing in the first place. It is an embarrassment to both of us. Never in my lifetime has someone in my family been mentioned in a gossip column until now, and I find it highly disturbing. If this continues, I will have to retire to the country for the remainder of the season to avoid further shame.”

  Benedict helped ease his mother to the settee. Taking a seat next to her, he pulled her hands into his own. “Mother, I am truly sorry to have caused you undue stress. I will take greater care in the future to remain out of the gossip columns.”

  “See that you do, Benedict,” she said sternly, her watery gray eyes boring into his own. “For if there is one more offense, I shall never forgive you.”

  Benedict nodded obediently but he wanted to groan. It seemed that the rift between them was only widening further when he had only ever intended to protect her. Whether she could believe it or not, his foolish antics were for her own good. But regardless, he vowed then and there that he would be more careful in his manners so as to avoid any further embarrassment from befalling his poor, dear mother.

  ***

  It had been no easy task for Benedict to put together his clothing for his outing to Almack’s. The strict dress code that was required made it harder to find something appropriate to wear amongst the outdated and colorful wardrobe he had been given for his ruse. He knew that if he wasn’t careful in his appearance, he risked having his voucher revoked by one of the fussy patronesses of the assembly rooms and that certainly would not do.

  With a lot of work and a little luck, Benedict had been suited in black knee breeches that were only moderately short, silk stockings, and a black dress coat that to the untrained eye appeared as if it fit to perfection. It wasn’t until he turned around and raised his arms that a large slit could be seen running up the middle of the coat. Jonathan had cut the slit into the coat at Benedict’s urging, making it possible for him to move and breathe. He reminded himself several times that he would have to be careful to keep his back turned away from people and his arms down to avoid drawing any attention to the slit.

  As soon as he entered the enormous ballroom on King Street, his eyes, of their own accord, began scanning the room for Lady Gillian. He knew that as a daughter of a duke experiencing her first season, there was no more fashionable place to be on a Wednesday evening than at Almack’s, and he was certain she would be there. If not, he may as well just turn around and go home because he certainly wasn’t there for his own amusement and desire.

  His eyes spotted Lady Gillian as she was exiting the dance floor after having just finished dancing a country dance. Several young bucks flocked to her side, anxious to claim her for the next dance. Benedict rolled his eyes at the scene, but perhaps he would be just as eager to claim her for a dance if he had been properly attired for such pursuits.

  He slid inconspicuously to the side of the room, careful to keep his back towards the wall as he slid along the side, hoping to find Miss Graham. Turns out, he didn’t need to pursue her for she was already on the lookout for him. Miss Graham looked rather grown up in a peach silk gown that was more low cut than anything he had ever seen her wear. His cheeks heated up with embarrassment on her behalf and he wanted to take off his coat and hand it to her to cover herself up with. She was just a girl, too young to be dressing so provocatively, but a quick glance around the room told him that in all actuality, her dress was a bit on the modest side. He shook his head, grateful that she was not his problem to worry over.

  “Care to take a stroll around the room with me?” he asked as he held out his arm for her to take when she approached.

  “Why stroll when we could dance? Lady Gillian is on the dance floor as we speak.”

  “About that,” Benedict dipped his chin and lowered his voice, “I did not intend to do any dancing this evening.”

  Miss Graham laughed. “You cannot be serious. You came to Almack’s with no plans to dance? Surely you jest.”

  “Correction—I came to Almack’s to see and be seen, just like the rest of the people here. Suffice it to say that my wardrobe does not permit any dancing this evening.”

  “Truly? I had meant to compliment you on your improved clothing. You look better than I have seen you since your return.”

  “Yes, but in order for the dress coat to fit properly, my valet had to cut a slit up the back. If you do not mind, I would much prefer it if we could keep to the sides of the room so I can keep my back against the wall. I’m afraid if I lift my arms my secret will be revealed.”

  He could tell by the look on her face that she was trying to tamper her amusement. His esteem for her raised considerably when she was successfully able to do so. “Very well,” she conceded, “let’s take a stroll around the room.”

  Miss Graham and Benedict made small talk as they slowly and methodically circled the room. Benedict had to will himself not to stare at Lady Gillian as she danced, for she was looking exceptionally lovely in her gauzy pale blue gown. The color suited her immensely.

  After several more dances went by, Benedict was beginning to doubt his plan for coming to Almack’s. He was bored out of his mind and was not sure how he was going to go about getting Lady Gillian’s attention when he couldn’t very well ask her to dance.

  It came as no surprise to him when Miss Graham echoed his sentiments. “No offense, my lord, but I’m finding this evening to be a pointless bore. I know that I agreed to assist you in your plans, but I fail to see what you are hoping to accomplish this night when you do not even dare ask Lady Gillian to dance. Perhaps we should call it a night and direct our efforts towards the Hoppleworth rout. You have received an invitation, I presume.”

  “Yes, I have. And you are correct,” he sighed. “Very well, go enjoy the remainder of your evening. I will look forward to seeing you later this week.”

  Miss Graham gladly waltzed off leaving Benedict by himself. He glanced across the ballroom to get one last glimpse of Lady Gillian before leaving and was disheartened to see that she was happily dancing with Lord Evander, completely oblivious to his presence or his impending departure.

  Chapter 12

  Let me be the first to report that Lord Danford’s voucher from Almack’s is being revoked! Word has it that Lady Jersey nearly swooned when she caught a glimpse of the back of his dress coat. It appears that the earl’s broad chest had caused the coat to tear all the way up the back, leaving him indecently exposed. Not that this author has paid particular mind to his physique, mind you. Perhaps that is why he was seen fleeing the ballroom after being there for less than an hour. Let the Earl of Danford be a reminder to you all of the consequences that can befall a poorly dressed gentleman, or lady for that matter.

  Benedict felt himself panicking as he read the morning papers over hot tea and scones. He did not know what had compelled him to read Mrs. Tiddlyswan’s gossip column; perhaps it was the sick foreboding he felt brewing inside of him all morning. Drat that woman! He crumpled the paper up angrily and threw the ball across the room, ignoring the raised eyebrows of his butler as he did so.

  He shot from his chair so s
wiftly that it nearly toppled over. What were the odds that his mother had not read the paper yet? He rushed up the stairs to her chamber, hoping to find her completely oblivious to his latest scandal.

  Ignoring his manners, he pushed into his mother’s room without even knocking. His heart sank as he saw her sitting in her bed with a tray of tea, holding the morning paper in her hand. She looked up at him as he entered with a glare that could cause the most hearty of plants to wither.

  “Mother, I can explain.”

  “La! There is no way to explain your way out of this scandal, Benedict. I cannot even begin to tell you how positively disappointed I am in you right now.” She held up one shaking finger as she hissed, “One day, Benedict. One day is all it took for you to find your way back into the gossip columns after you promised me you would take better care of your reputation, our reputation.”

  Benedict was speechless. He had taken care, or so he thought. He had refrained from dancing at Almack’s and had paid careful attention to his movements, even going so far as to keeping his back turned to the wall the short time he was there. Lady Jersey must have seen the slit as he was leaving. Blast it all; he did not need his mother’s anger right now.

  “I am appalled that you have no words right now. Can you not even attempt to defend yourself or at least resort to groveling at my feet?”

  “Mother, I would grovel if I felt like it would help my cause in the least, but I am afraid it would be too little too late. Suffice it to say that I am indeed sorry for my actions. I never meant to cause you any shame.”

  His mother moved her breakfast tray aside and rose from the bed. “No Benedict, I am sure you never meant to, but you certainly didn’t put much effort into avoiding it either. I am positively mortified at the thought of showing my face in polite society after what you have done. I will be the laughingstock of the ton.”

  “Mother, just give it time,” Benedict pleaded, trying to put the event into perspective. “In no time at all another scandal will come along and completely erase mine from memory. That is the fickle nature of the ton.”

  His mother’s voice was firm as she spoke, “Not all instances of folly can be forgotten or forgiven so easily. Perhaps the ton will forgive you for your appalling actions as of late, but I am not sure that I can. I will be leaving for the country immediately.”

  Benedict rubbed his temples as a pounding ache began throbbing in his head. His primary motivation in accepting the bet from his friends had been to keep his mother protected from the heartache of scandal and now he was causing her a fair amount of anguish all on his own. He stood firmly rooted in his spot, seriously contemplating whether he should break the bet by telling her the truth, the real reason behind his outlandish behavior. It would utterly break her heart to learn of her father’s betrayal, but at least Benedict would no longer be at the receiving end of her wrath, or so he hoped.

  Back and forth he went, should he tell or should he not? A quick reminder of how devastated he had been when he had found out made the decision for him—he would not tell her.

  He went to where she was standing, silently watching him, and put his hands upon her shoulders. “Mother, you may never understand what I am about to say, but I want you to know that I have always tried to protect you.”

  “Whatever do you mean Benedict?”

  Pulling her into his embrace he said simply, “I love you; that’s all.”

  His mother softened in his arms. Hearing her sniffle, he pulled back and searched her face. “Do not tell me that you are crying, mother.”

  Wiping her eyes she asked, “What if I am?”

  “It will break my heart.”

  “Good, then you will know how I feel right now.”

  ***

  Benedict had painstakingly picked out his clothing for the rout that evening, trying on every pair of breeches and every dress coat and waistcoat from the hideous selection his friends had produced until he found the ones that fit him the best. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass Miss Graham more than necessary and cause further scandal to befall his already tainted reputation.

  Despite his pleading, his mother had left for the country that afternoon, leaving Benedict in a somber mood. He was in no mood to attend a party, but he had no choice seeing as how he had already committed to attending with Miss Graham.

  Jonathan finished tying his cravat for him then stood back and said, “I dare say, my lord, that it is a vast improvement.”

  “I quite agree.” But, less his friends find his appearance too tame, he grabbed the quizzing glass off of his dressing table and stuffed it into his pocket.

  The rout was already a crush by the time they arrived and made their introductions to Lady Hoppleworth. Miss Graham held onto his arm tightly as they wound their way through the never ending crowds of people. Benedict wondered how he’d ever manage to find Lady Gillian in the crush.

  After pausing to exchange greetings with several people, Miss Graham and Benedict moved to a far corner of the room where they spotted an open window in hopes of catching some fresh air.

  Miss Graham opened the fan that was dangling from her wrist and began fanning herself. “It’s dreadfully stuffy in her.”

  “Would you like me to fetch you some lemonade?”

  She glanced towards the other room where long trays of drinks and refreshments were set up. “I do not mind doing it myself, for I see a friend of mine by the tables whom I dearly wish to speak with.”

  Benedict let go of her arm. “Very well.”

  No sooner had Miss Graham disappeared into the crowds when he spotted Griffin and Warren making their way to him. He quickly procured the quizzing glass from his pocket and held it up to his eye as they approached.

  “What in tarnation do you think you are doing?” Griffin asked angrily.

  Benedict squinted at him from behind the quizzing glass and answered in his most snobbish voice. “Looking at the most irritating man in London. Isn’t that obvious?”

  Griffin snatched the quizzing glass from his hand while Benedict laughed. “I’m referring to Miss Graham, you imbecile. You are supposed to be wooing Lady Gillian, not Marcus’s sister. He’s furious, by the way.”

  “Oh really, I had no idea,” Benedict retorted dryly, though the tender bruise on his jaw was a constant reminder of Marcus’s feelings on the matter.

  “We are here on his behalf,” Warren interjected. “And we insist you stay away from Miss Graham.”

  “Too bad you did not set that as one of the conditions of the bet. Your only stipulations were that I dress in this foolish garb and convince Lady Gillian to wed me before the season’s end. You never clarified how I could or could not go about realizing that goal. I’m not sincerely interested in gaining Miss Graham’s affections. I am merely using her to make Lady Gillian jealous.”

  “Well may I at least offer a recommendation?” Griffin asked snidely.

  “Be my guest, though I may not feel obligated to acquiesce.”

  “I highly recommend that you spend more time keeping an eye on Lady Gillian and making sure she is not compromised than wasting your time play acting with Miss Graham.”

  “She has disappeared with Lord Evander and could very well be being compromised as we speak. I saw them slipping out onto the balcony,” Warren offered. “Though perhaps it is not in my best interest to tell you so, for I do desire to see you fail.”

  Benedict fled in a panicked hurry, leaving Griffin and Warren behind, anxious to find Lady Gillian before it was too late. The sky was black and starless as he emerged onto the balcony, furiously looking for any sign of Lady Gillian. Sure enough, Warren had been right. She was standing in the far corner, her arm hooked through Lord Evander’s, their heads lowered together in conversation.

  His blood began to boil at seeing her alone in the dark with the man. “Lady Gillian, I have word from your mother.”

  Both Lady Gillian and Lord Evander’s heads snapped up at the intrusion. He took slow methodical steps
in their direction, though what he really desired to do was run to her, snatch her away from Lord Evander, the devil, and claim her as his own.

  Lady Gillian let go of Lord Evander’s arm and stalked right up to him. “My mother sent you to seek me out? That is impossible for me to believe.”

  Benedict ignored her, turning dangerous eyes on Lord Evander instead. “I suggest you give me a moment of privacy with the lady,” he said coldly, the tone of his voice broking no argument.

  Lord Evander stepped forward and put a protective hand on her arm. “Lady Gillian, do you wish me to leave?”

  She glanced nervously at Benedict before surprising him by saying, “Please. I will join you back inside in a moment.”

  “Very well. I shall wait for your return.”

  Benedict barely waited for Lord Evander to disappear before saying, “He was rather easy to persuade. Is he always so willing to do your bidding?”

  Lady Gillian seethed. “Do not insult Lord Evander. He is a perfect gentleman, quite unlike you, my lord. Now pray tell what my mother wants, besides for me to stay as far away from you as I can.”

  “Why does your mother want you to stay away from me?” Benedict asked sharply.

  “La! Isn’t it obvious? For the same reason every mother in London wishes their daughter to not keep company with you.”

  “Every mother? That is a gross exaggeration, for I can think of at least one lady whose mother does not mind me pursuing her daughter.”

  Benedict watched with satisfaction as she stomped her foot angrily and said, “Then go harass Miss Graham instead of me.”

  He took a step near her and laughed. Reaching out, he traced one finger along her jaw and tilted her face up so that she was looking at him. “My intent is not to harass you,” he said softly.

  “Then what is your intent, my lord, for I’m growing weary of your games.”