Unconventional Suitors 02 - Her Unconventional Hero

by Ginny Hartman

  Her Unlikely Hero

  A Novel

  Ginny Hartman

  Copyright © 2015 by Ginny Hartman

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Ginny Hartman

  Book design by Ginny Hartman

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First printing: April 2015

  ISBN-13: 978-1511765794

  To Pam, the best mother-in-law in the universe.

  Your strength and optimism are beyond admirable.

  I am a better person because I have known you.

  Chapter 1

  Griffin’s eyes shifted around the ballroom nervously, flitting between each couple on the dance floor, until they finally rested on the Earl of Danford and his new wife. Satisfied that Benedict and Gillian were dancing merrily instead of anxiously plotting their revenge, he let a long, heavy breath swoosh from his mouth as he exhaled in relief. It had been precisely three days since the newlyweds had informed him, along with Marcus and Warren, that they had been defeated in the wager they had issued Benedict, much to his dismay.

  Griffin cursed inwardly. Why he had ever underestimated his rogue of a friend was beyond him. Benedict had a sly way of besting him and coming out ahead of any challenge that had ever been posed between the two of them, and it galled Griffin to no end.

  “Are you well, my lord?”

  The hesitant feminine voice of his dance partner floated softly to his ears. Griffin willed his jaw to relax and his eyes to drift downward to settle upon Lady Katherine. She was the younger sister of Lady Adel Desmond, but one would never guess the relation based upon appearance alone. While Lady Adel was curvaceous, Lady Katherine was slight. Lady Adel’s hair was thick and shiny, the auburn tendrils curling artfully around her face, while Lady Katherine’s hair was fine and limp, the muted color of porridge. Griffin felt his stomach revolt at the thought, for he had never been particularly fond of the lumpy dish.

  “My lord?” Lady Katherine queried once more, though trepidation laced her words.

  Griffin had to physically shake his head to clear it of thoughts of the two sisters. “I most certainly am well,” he bit off with a snap. Lady Katherine’s flat brown eyes widened, and Griffin instantly felt remorse for being so short.

  As the dance came to an end, he bent over her hand and rose, saying in a more gentle voice, “Please forgive my short temper, I think the heat of the room has made me forget my manners.”

  Lady Katherine smiled shyly. “All is forgiven, my lord.”

  As he walked Lady Katherine back to her aunt, he added another differing quality to his mental checklist; Lady Katherine was biddable and gentle mannered, while Lady Adel was strong-willed and defiant.

  As soon as Lady Katherine had been safely returned to her chaperone, his eyes once more scanned the wide expanse of the elaborate ballroom, settling easily upon Lady Danford, and though he was hardly interested in her, he was very much interested in the lady she was conversing with. Quickly spotting Benedict near the refreshment table, Griffin wasted no time stalking towards his friend, a worried frown marring his face.

  “Danford,” he said curtly, by way of greeting.

  Benedict turned and smiled easily at him. “Griffin, care for a drink?” he asked, as he thrust a flute of champagne towards him.

  Griffin took the proffered drink and held it firmly in his hands as he spoke. “Who is that lady your wife is speaking with?”

  Benedict shrugged nonchalantly. “It very well could be anyone. Unlike you, I haven’t had my eye trained on her the entire evening. You would know who she was conversing with long before I would, I presume.”

  Griffin tried to ignore his friend’s unconcern. “Who is she?” he ground out between tightly clenched teeth.

  Benedict’s eyes scanned the crush of people until they rested upon, in his opinion, the most beautiful woman in all of London, his new wife. He couldn’t help the smile that spread effortlessly across his face at the sight of her.

  “What is so amusing?” Griffin snapped, not liking the pleased look that had overcome his friend’s face.

  Benedict quickly tampered the alluring visions of his wife from his mind, instead focusing on the lady in question. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure who the lady was beyond the fact that it was painfully obvious that she was well past the marriageable age and very plain in appearance. “I can’t rightfully say who the lady is, for I have never met her, but perhaps I should go make her acquaintance, for it appears she is in need of a husband, and I just so happen to have three friends I am looking to marry off.”

  Benedict took a step towards his wife and the mystery lady when he heard Griffin mutter angrily, “Fiend seize it, Benedict, have some pity on me.”

  Benedict paused as he turned slowly so that he could look deeply into his friend’s face, relishing the rare display of nerves. “I do not feel inclined to shower you with pity after what you put me through,” he stated boldly and without compunction.

  Griffin hadn’t expected that his simple plea would yield any favorable results, but it was his future they were talking about, and he wasn’t about to let the matter rest. As Benedict turned once more towards his wife, Griffin reached out and clasped his arm, pulling him to a quick halt. It was not in his character to plead for anything, but at this point, he wasn’t above begging if it meant avoiding a lifetime married to a dowdy bluestocking, one he could hardly imagine kissing, let alone bedding for the sake of producing an heir.

  He shuddered involuntarily. “Please just make your choice soon and let us get this over with. The suspense is driving me nearly mad. I can hardly sleep at night for fear that the next day will be the day you resign me to my awful fate.”

  “I’ve never seen you so…unnerved before,” Benedict acknowledged with a hint of satisfaction.

  Griffin let go of his arm roughly. “Do not pretend that seeing me so does not please you immensely.”

  “Oh, I will not,” Benedict grinned. “But you are right; it is not fair of me to keep you in suspense. I will make my decision soon and inform you of it post haste.” With that, Benedict turned and stalked away.

  Griffin watched as he disappeared into the crowd, but instead of feeling at ease about Benedict’s declaration, he found it only heightened his anxiety. He had no desire to wed, least of all a woman not of his choosing. Running a hand through his thick, black hair, he turned on his heel and marched straight towards the French doors leading to the balcony, hoping that the brisk evening air would calm his frayed nerves.

  A dusting of stars sparkled overhead in the midnight sky reminiscent of the crystals that dripped from the chandelier inside. Griffin walked to the balustrade and placed his hands on the cool stone as he let the chill air wash over his body and relax his mind. He felt the stiffness in his shoulders relax slightly as he breathed deeply of the crisp air.

  Not for the first time, he inwardly chastised himself for ever concocting the bet that would now determine his fate. Thinking back to that night in White’s, the night he had issued Benedict the wager to pose as an unfashionable half-wit in attempts to woo the lady of his choosing and convince her to wed him, made him fervently wish that it had never happened at all.

  He could clearly remember the moment th
e idea had filtered into his head. Then the idea had seemed so amusing—make Benedict appear the fool upon his return into society. What could possibly be more amusing than seeing one of his closest friends, and stiffest competition with the ladies, make a cake of himself in front of the entire ton?

  “Choosing my own wife, that’s what,” he mumbled under his breath, as his fist pounded angrily on top of the balustrade.

  A small, almost imperceptible gasp behind him made Griffin whirl around to see who had invaded his moment of privacy. His heart began racing wildly as his eyes settled upon Lady Adel, standing stiffly before him, her shoulders pushed back and her gloved hands wringing nervously together. Her full lips were still forming an “O,” though no further sound escaped from them.

  Griffin tried to tell himself that the accelerated beating of his heart was due to the unexpected intrusion and not the maddeningly beautiful chit before him. Quickly dispelling his surprise at the invasion, he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back casually against the balustrade.

  “Ah,” he said arrogantly as he allowed his eyes to rake over her curvaceous body in a way that he knew would madden her. “Did my absence give you cause for concern? I haven’t missed my dance with you, have I?”

  “You flatter yourself, my lord, if you think that anything you do gives me cause for concern.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh as her chin tilted defiantly into the air. “Come here my little minx and let me prove you false.”

  Griffin wasn’t at all surprised when she stood firmly rooted to her spot, unwilling to obey his command. Feeling undeterred, he pushed himself languidly off of the balcony and took slow, marauding steps towards her, watching as the fluttering of her thick eyelashes betrayed the stoic demeanor she was trying so valiantly to maintain.

  He circled slowly around her, watching as her entire body stiffened in response. Coming to a stop directly in front of her, he paused and waited for her to turn her flashing green eyes upon him, but she never did. Reaching forward, he cradled her chin in his large hand and forced her gaze to meet his own. Her lips pursed together in displeasure, as her eyes widened in anger, and all Griffin could think about was how soft her skin felt against his hand.

  Leaning forward, he brought his face a mere inch from hers, aligning their mouths so that they were at the exact same level, and whispered fiercely, “Do I concern you now, my lady?”

  For a brief moment, time was suspended. Griffin made the mistake of letting his eyes flicker from her own to rest momentarily on her full lips, lips that were pursed even more tightly together than they had been before. For one tantalizing moment, he imagined what it would feel like to kiss the scowl right off of her face and feel her stony lips melt beneath his.

  His breathing stopped as he warred within himself, debating if he should be bold enough to do just that, when all of a sudden, Lady Adel’s hands came up and met with his chest, pushing him forcefully away from her.

  Griffin stumbled backwards but quickly righted himself and gave her one of his most piercing grins. “Your actions speak louder than any words ever could, my lady.”

  In the pale light of the moon, Griffin was able to see the pink flush that spread over her cheeks, revealing a smattering of delicate freckles dusted across her ivory face. She stalked angrily towards him, one gloved finger pointing at him menacingly. “I am not your minx,” she spat, “And I am not your concern. I insist you cease acting as if my father has placed my care in your hands, for he certainly has not. He has deemed my aunt a sufficient chaperone. My sister and I do not need you meddling into our affairs any further.”

  “Then pray tell. Where is your beloved aunt now?” He gave a perfunctory glance around the balcony as if he were looking for the lady in question before continuing, “I do not see her here now. What is to keep some gentleman from compromising you?”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” she seethed between gritted teeth.

  “It’s not I whom you should fear, my minx,” he added if only to goad her. “It is the fortune hunters that are desperate for a wife with a large dowry that you should fear.” When she didn’t answer, he walked over to her and tweaked her nose, much as he used to do to his own sister when she was younger. “If your aunt refuses to keep you safe, then I must see to the task myself. I am only doing you a favor.”

  “A favor? Indeed,” she spit out wryly. “I do not wish for any more of your so called favors. I am perfectly capable of protecting myself, and Katherine too, if needs be. You insult me by suggesting otherwise.”

  A bubbling anger rose up inside of him. He turned on her fiercely and snatched her into his arms, pressing her forcefully into his chest. Before she could have a chance to protest, he pressed his lips to her ear and hissed, “Can you protect yourself from me now?”

  “Unhand me this instant,” she demanded coldly.

  “No.”

  Lady Adel wiggled in his arms, trying to pry herself loose from his unrelenting hold. The feel of her soft body gliding against his felt so ridiculously enticing, he never wanted to unleash his hold on her, though he knew he must. He held her tightly for several more seconds before pinning her arms flat against her full hips.

  “Let this be a lesson to you, that regardless of your confidence in your own abilities, you will never be able to out strength a man that is determined to have you.”

  When he finally let go of his hold on her, he took a step back for his own protection, fully expecting her to slap her hand hard across his face, but she didn’t. Instead she took a large step backwards as well serving to put plenty of distance between them, her eyes flashing murderously. “Do not ever touch me again,” she demanded, her voice dangerously low.

  “I do not make promises I cannot keep,” he said, with not even a trace of apology, before turning on his heel and returning promptly to the ballroom, leaving Lady Adel alone in the night.

  ***

  What an arrogant, pompous fool! Adel’s hands shook violently as she searched through her reticule for the ever-present pad of paper and pencil. She walked swiftly to the corner of the balcony, huffing angrily as she went. She was so flustered from her unwelcome encounter with Lord Straton that she could hardly think straight. As soon as her hand clamped around the items she was looking for, she pulled them quickly from her reticule and began scribbling on the page frantically.

  Let it be known that Lord Straton is the vilest of rakes. His penchant for preying on unsuspecting ladies has reached a new extreme. He was spotted out on the balcony harassing an innocent maiden at the Oliverson Ball…

  Her pencil quickly trailed off, letting the last word die out on the page. Of course she couldn’t very well submit a piece about tonight’s incident to The Morning Post without implicating herself. No one was anywhere near the balcony when the scene with Lord Straton had occurred. As much as she itched to humiliate the infuriating man by naming him in the ever-popular and well-read gossip column for which she secretly wrote under the alias of Mrs. Tiddlyswan, she couldn’t risk her identity being discovered, not even for the cause of well-deserved retaliation.

  Ripping the page from her pad, she crumpled it angrily and tossed it, along with the pencil, back into her reticule before pulling the strings tightly shut. After several moments of looking at the night sky, Adel began to feel chilled. She folded her arms across her chest and shivered, though she refused to go back inside and risk seeing Lord Straton once more.

  Looking up at the sky, she found the brightest star twinkling amongst the lesser ones. The thought of her beautiful mother’s body lying in the cold, hard ground in the family cemetery pained her so greatly that she chose instead to imagine her mother was somewhere amongst the stars, shining down on her from the heavens.

  In a quiet, barely discernible whisper, she began to talk to her. “Mother, how I miss you. It’s been over a year now, and I still can’t make the world seem right without your presence.” Her thoughts instantly recalled her younger sister, Katherine, and the pain of their
coming out this season without their beloved mother. She felt a frown tug at her lips, and she sighed in hopes of dispelling some of the sadness she carried inside.

  Adel was supposed to have her coming out the year prior, but her mother’s unexpected death made it impossible. Instead, she spent the year in morning, as was proper, not even sure she wanted to be presented to society without her mother by her side. But once the requisite year was up, her father insisted that both she and Katherine, who was now of age as well, experience a London Season, and so he asked his sister, Aunt Tabitha, to act as their chaperone.

  Aunt Tabitha was nearly as ungainly as Katherine was, but her father’s implicit trust in his spinster sister broke no room for argument from Adel, and wishing to please her father, she agreed to have a season. Tonight, not for the first time, she heartily regretted giving into her father’s wishes without putting up more of a fight. He and Aunt Tabitha had warned her and Katherine to be on guard for those men who would pursue them solely based on the size of their gratuitous dowries, but no one had warned her about men like Lord Straton, and so far, in her experience, he was proving far more dangerous than any would-be fortune hunters ever had.

  Chapter 2

  Benedict took slow sips of his tea, staring at his wife sitting across the table from him as they broke their fast. He would never grow tired of beholding her exquisite face, a face that at the moment was scrunched together in concentration. He had just told her of his promise to Griffin to have his bride picked out sooner rather than later, meaning they would have to make their decision speedily.

  After several more seconds of nibbling on her bottom lip, she looked up at him and asked, “Are you still convinced that Lady Adel and Lord Straton would suit?”

  “I am,” he said confidently. Then to reassure her he added, “And had there been any doubt left in my mind, seeing the look on his face upon his return from the balcony last night would have sealed his fate completely.”