Unconventional Suitors 02 - Her Unconventional Hero

by Ginny Hartman

  “Yes, precisely,” Katherine said, her face lighting up with a smile of her own. “Surely there is someone who would be eager to rescue such a fair maiden as you. Is there anyone you have met during our time in Town who strikes your fancy?”

  “You know there is not; for if one had piqued my interest, you would be the first to know about it.”

  “Well what about Lord Straton?”

  Adel froze, Katherine’s query catching her completely off guard. “Are you meaning to tell me that you have a tendre for the man? Is that why you wish to speak of him?”

  “Goodness, no,” Katherine giggled. “Though you cannot deny that he is enormously handsome.”

  Truth be told, Adel could not deny it, but she was not about to tell Katherine that. “I think his overbearing manners distract from any other charms he may possibly possess.”

  “Remember when we were younger and we’d imagine we were princesses?”

  “Of course I do,” Adel breathed, relieved that Katherine was no longer talking about Lord Straton.

  “Well than surely you remember how you always described your prince, the one who would rescue you from the fire breathing dragons or vengeful villains.” When Adel remained silent, Katherine continued, “Your prince always had dark hair and dark eyes with broad shoulders and the strength of ten men. He was confident and commanding and wanted nothing more than to rescue you from your awful plight, even at the risk of his own life. Whenever I see Lord Straton, I cannot help but recalling your youthful dreams, thinking that perhaps he will be the prince that comes and rescues you from your sadness.”

  Adel felt uncomfortable as Katherine spoke. “Your imaginings are nothing but fanciful wishes. Lord Straton is nothing like the prince of my childhood dreams. He is arrogant and insensitive, and I highly doubt he would ever risk his own life for the welfare of another.”

  “You judge him too harshly,” Katherine stated boldly.

  “And you judge him too mercifully. You do not know enough of the man to be able to rightfully judge his character.”

  “With all due respect, Adel, nor do you.”

  Adel turned on Katherine, her agitation causing her voice to rise. “Suffice it to say that I know enough of the retched man’s character to deem him completely unsuitable for me. He will never be my prince.”

  With that final heated statement, Adel rose, her earlier sadness having been replaced with anger. “I think I will return to my bedchamber and see if I can sleep a bit longer.”

  Katherine gave her a sad smile. “Do not be mad at me, dear sister, for I can’t tolerate your displeasure towards me.”

  “It’s not you I am displeased with,” she admitted honestly. “The mere mention of Lord Straton seems to have the power to set me on edge. Do forgive me.”

  “But of course.”

  Adel retreated to her room, grateful for her sister’s gentle kindness. She hadn’t meant to snap at her or make her feel as if her anger was directed towards her, but if Katherine had even the slightest glimpse into Lord Straton’s true nature, she would never again dare to liken him to a prince.

  Adel climbed into her bed once more, her mind still reeling as she recalled the encounter with Lord Straton on the balcony several nights prior. She closed her eyes and tried to dispel the awful memory, praying that sleep would overtake her and give her a much needed reprieve.

  ***

  Though she had been successful at falling back to sleep, by the time Adel had been dressed and readied for the day, prepared to join Katherine and Aunt Tabitha in the parlor, she did not feel anymore rested than she had before.

  The parlor was nearly silent when Adel walked in. Katherine was sitting on the settee embroidering a wall hanging she had been working on for ages while Aunt Tabitha sat next to the fireplace reading a book of poetry.

  Neither of them noticed Adel joining them until she cleared her throat softly. Both heads snapped up to look at her expectantly, though Aunt Tabitha’s was filled with concern. “Dear child, are you not feeling well? Katherine told me that you were up early this morning, unable to sleep.”

  Adel waved away her aunt’s concern with one hand. “I feel much better now,” she lied as she went and sat next to Katherine on the settee, feigning an excessive amount of interest in her embroidery in hopes of deflecting any more questions.

  Though Aunt Tabitha held her tongue, Adel could feel her shrewd eyes inspecting her person, and it made her rather uncomfortable. She didn’t want any attention or pity from anyone. In hindsight, her rare display of emotions this morning was an embarrassment. She felt foolish for breaking down in tears and blubbering over her mother to Katherine. She was usually the strong one of the pair. She was the oldest sister after all, and it was expected that she should set the example for Katherine.

  Several minutes passed in stony silence before their butler, Edward, swept into the room. Holding a silver tray in one of his gloved hands, he bowed before Adel and stretched forth the tray, where a simple, nondescript white envelope sat. Adel reached forth and plucked the envelope from the tray, her heart beating frantically. She recognized the envelope for the simple fact that it did not have her name penned on the front.

  “Thank you, Edward,” she said as she quickly rose and retreated to the window, her back towards Katherine and Aunt Tabitha. She wanted desperately to remove herself to the privacy of her bedchamber but she knew that would only rouse her family’s suspicion. Instead, she hunched her shoulders and slid her finger underneath the seal of the envelope and slid the sheet of parchment from the folds.

  Dear Mrs. Tiddlyswan,

  I am writing to inform you that your most recent contributions to the scandal sheet of the Morning Post have been mediocre at best. While The Times has been reporting the most salacious of gossip, you have merely been reporting on the most mundane of topics, such as the severely outdated apparel of Lady Smith. Your next contribution must return us to your former talent of reporting on the most scandalous and most intriguing on dits of the ton, or we will be forced to terminate our agreement with you.

  Respectfully,

  Mr. Bell

  Adel quickly returned the missive to its envelope and stuffed it into the pocket of her day dress before anyone could see it. She knew that her contributions as of late had not been up to par, but she hadn’t thought them to be as awful as Mr. Bell had made them sound. She slowly made her way back to the settee where Katherine was staring at her expectantly, determined to redouble her efforts and try harder to be privy to the latest gossip of the ton.

  “Who was your letter from, Adel?”

  “No one,” she snapped, knowing she sounded waspish but knowing she couldn’t possibly tell Katherine about her secret identity as Mrs. Tiddlyswan.

  “Well it had to be from somebody, dear,” Aunt Tabitha pointed out. “It didn’t just write itself and deliver itself here, to your father’s townhouse, of its own accord.”

  Adel furiously tried to think of an excuse, as both Aunt Tabitha and Katherine’s eyes settled on her expectantly. Finally she answered lamely, “It’s from an old friend; that is all.”

  “How lovely. Which one is it from?” Katherine asked with delight, no doubt most anxious to hear word from one of their mutual acquaintances.

  Adel bolted to her feet, “I’m afraid it is from one you do not know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I find that I am most eager to reply so that my response can be sent out with tomorrows post.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Adel disappeared from the room. She paused for a moment in the foyer, inhaling a deep breath before deciding to retreat to the library for some privacy. Sliding into her father’s favorite room in the house, she couldn’t help but miss him. He had remained at Terrace Manor to oversee the family estate in Kent while his daughter’s enjoyed their first season. Much like her mother had been, their father was warm and gracious, and she missed him dearly. Perhaps she would send him a letter asking him to come to London for a spell. For surely, he wouldn’t deny her
request if he knew how dearly she missed him.

  Adel lowered herself into her father’s favorite leather chair, the armrests well-worn from years worth of use. She breathed in deeply of the scent of books and leather and felt her soul beginning to calm. She allowed her head to lean back against the chair and closed her eyes as she thought about her current predicament.

  Aunt Tabitha had brought her and Katherine to London a week before the season had officially begun, allowing them both ample time to adjust to their temporary home and shop for any last minute items they might need. It was during this time that she had come across an ad in The Morning Post seeking an anonymous contributor to their increasingly popular scandal sheet.

  Adel still wasn’t sure what had caused her to tear the ad from the paper and save it. She only knew that the promise of distraction was what tempted her to respond. She had promptly sent a letter off to the paper under the alias Mrs. Tiddlyswan, asking that any return correspondence be delivered anonymously to her address at St. James’s Square and given to the eldest daughter of the house who would then make sure that the missive was delivered into the proper hands. She had been careful not to give her name or hint in any way that she herself would be the one submitting the column, and so far the arrangement had worked out splendidly.

  Each week she faithfully sent in her column full of gossip to Mr. Bell, and each week she would receive a pound note in return. Of course, Adel didn’t write for the promise of money, how little it was; she wrote solely for the distraction it presented. During the nonstop parade of assemblies and balls, routs and teas, instead of focusing on her mother’s absence and the resulting fit of the blue devils that would ensue, she would instead spend her time in shrewd observation, looking for any bit of scandal that she could report on. It proved a most excellent distraction indeed.

  Up until now, the paper had been pleased with the information she was able to deliver, but these last few weeks her heart had not been in it, and the letter in her pocket was proof of that. She slid her hand into her pocket, retrieving the envelope before walking towards the fireplace where a low fire burned in the grate. Throwing the missive into the flames, she vowed to try harder, hoping that if she did so, her sadness would vanish just like the letter from Mr. Bell was disappearing into the flames.

  Chapter 4

  Adel was dressed in a pale green dress that she was certain was one of her most flattering. Her lady’s maid had swept her auburn locks up into an elegant Grecian knot, curling several tendrils of hair that had been left down to frame her face. She desperately hoped that the sophisticated look would distract from the exhaustion she knew marred her face. Her sadness had sucked any desire for entertainment from her body, but she very well knew that if she didn’t attend tonight’s ball, she would not have anything noteworthy to send into The Morning Post.

  Not a moment after she had been introduced to the hostess and her name had been announced, Adel slipped quietly away from Aunt Tabitha and Katherine, pretending the need to seek out some refreshment, though she had no desire to eat. Her eyes scanned the ballroom anxiously as she walked towards the refreshment table, hoping to be privy to something, anything that would make for good gossip.

  A slight twinge of guilt filled her breast as her eyes rested upon Lord Danford dancing with his wife. She had been the one to write feverishly about his abhorrent wardrobe and each resulting faux pas in her column, the pinnacle being when she had discovered that his voucher to Almack’s had been revoked. Mr. Bell had informed her that the paper had sold a record number of copies that day, which pleased him immensely. But unfortunately, since his somewhat hasty wedding to Lady Gillian, now the Countess of Danford, the man had begun dressing in nothing less than the height of fashion and had managed to behave himself extraordinarily well.

  Drat, Adel thought, as she peeled her eyes away from the striking couple who looked very much in love, in hopes of finding another poor target for her work. Sidling over to the edge of the ballroom, she noticed a couple with their heads bent close together, talking anxiously. Putting her back against the wall, she dropped her head and hunched her shoulders, hoping to appear as inconspicuous as possible.

  Inching along the wall, she felt the heavy drapes clinging to her dress and being pulled along the wall with her as she walked. Taking a step away from the wall, she reached one hand back and pushed the offending material away and continued her pursuit. Adel paused when she was only two feet away from the couple, positive that they had not noticed her approaching. She trained her ears to the sound of their voices before turning her eyes to scan the crowded dance floor in an effort to appear as if she was oblivious to their conversation.

  “You can’t do this to me, my lord, for we had an agreement,” the lady, whom Adel didn’t know, spoke in a frantic whisper.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Adel saw the man clasp his hand around the woman’s wrist as he pulled her forcefully towards him. “There was nothing binding about our agreement. I said it only to appease you and get what I wanted from you at the time. Suffice it to say that you are useless to me now, and I wish to have no further association with you.”

  The lady gasped and Adel did not blame her, for the man was being abominably rude. “Lord Crestin, do not speak such hateful words if you do not mean them. History has shown that you are unable to stay away from me.”

  Adel quickly stored the name Lord Crestin in her memory as she continued to eavesdrop.

  “Only because you keep blackmailing me into coming back,” Lord Crestin snarled at the still unnamed lady.

  “Oh do not sound so upset about it, my lord. You and I both know that you wouldn’t keep coming back if you didn’t want to,” purred the lady in a sultry voice that made Adel blush. She turned her head to the side to try and hide the color blooming on her cheeks from their view should they turn their heads in her direction.

  “I’m warning you, do not attempt anymore of your tricks on me, for I promise you will live to regret it.”

  Adel felt a rush of wind pass by her face as Lord Crestin stalked angrily away, leaving the woman all alone. Now was her time to leave. She quickly gathered the hem of her skirt in her hand and scurried off in the opposite direction of the lady as she kept her eyes averted. She needed to retire to a private location so she could write down what she had learned on her pad of paper.

  A few hurried steps later, Adel gasped as she felt herself collide with another body. The breath whooshed out of her lungs at the unexpected contact as her eyes slid up to look at who she had so rudely ran in to. Another gasp escaped of its own accord as her eyes settled on the sinfully wicked eyes of Lord Straton.

  She instantly took a step back, “I apologize, my lord, for not watching where I was going. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said as she tried to step around him, but he was quicker than she, effectively blocking her with his large stature.

  Adel looked up at him with disdain, “Pardon, my lord, but if you will please excuse me, I am in a bit of a hurry.”

  “Where are you off to in such a rush? Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”

  “Doubtful,” she muttered as she made to leave once more.

  “Well then if I cannot be of some assistance to you, perhaps you would be willing to assist me.”

  Adel made the mistake of looking once more into his dark eyes that were trained on her in a most disconcerting way. Something whispered to her to leave, but for some unexplained reason, her feet didn’t seem to want to obey what her brain was telling them to do. She was frozen in place, giving him the encouragement he needed to continue.

  “Marry me,” he said plainly and without any emotion, as if he were simply issuing a command to one of his servants, and no doubt, he expected her to respond subserviently as any of his servants was sure to do. Adel would rather die than give him the pleasure.

  “No, thank you,” she replied in the same emotionless tone he had used. This time, when she told her feet to act, they listened and she quickly took several st
eps away from him hoping that the distance she was creating between them both would cause her heart to stop racing.

  It wasn’t until she was in the safety of the retiring room, blocked from view by an elaborately painted partition, that she allowed herself to process everything that had just happened. Had Lord Straton just proposed to her? A quick recall of the encounter assured her that indeed, he had. What an arrogant and vexing man. Why he sought to goad her so was a mystery she was not inclined to want to unravel.

  Forcing her thoughts away from the incomprehensible Lord Straton, she promptly retrieved her pad of paper and pencil and began scribbling down everything she remembered overhearing between Lord Crestin and the mystery lady. A small thrill shot through her as she wrote, knowing that this was exactly the kind of information Mr. Bell expected her to provide him with. Now, if only she could decipher the woman’s identity, she would be set.

  ***

  Griffin stood in the spot Lady Adel had left him, his mouth hanging open in shock. Had she really just turned down the first proposal he had ever issued? The nerve! Straightening his jacket, he turned to go find himself a drink, though he knew the champagne being served would not be strong enough.

  “What’s wrong with you, man? You look as if a loved one has just died.”

  Griffin turned to see Marcus and Warren standing casually in the corner and wanted to curse. The last thing he wanted to do was discuss Lady Adel’s blunt turn down of his proposal with his friends, or anyone for that matter. In fact, he would do well if he could just forget that it happened completely.

  Griffin ignored his friends as he grabbed a glass of champagne off a passing tray and downed the contents in one full gulp.

  “Not in the mood to talk?” Marcus queried as he observed him with one brow cocked.

  Griffin wanted to smack the amused smirk off of his friend’s face. “Not to you,” he scowled.

  “Let me guess the root of your discord,” Warren interjected. “Lady Adel must have delivered you another one of her put-downs.”