Winning her Hand

by Bree Wolf

  Eleanor smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.” Still, there was a hint of doubt in her eyes.

  Swallowing, Winifred allowed her gaze to sweep across the guests in attendance, only excluding the area around the refreshment table. “Are you well acquainted with most of your guests?” Seeing the slight frown on Eleanor’s face, she added, “As I’ve been out of the country for so long, I fear I hardly know anyone.”

  Instead of dissipating, the frown on Eleanor’s face grew deeper and a hint of suspicion came to her eyes. “Tell me what is going on, Winifred? You seem…not like yourself.”

  Winifred sighed. Oh, how right her friend was!

  “Well, quite frankly, I have decided that it was time I chose a husband.”

  Eleanor’s eyes widened. “You have?”

  “Yes, I’ve already spoken to Griffin, and he’s assured me he will do his utmost to find me a suitable match.” Her eyes narrowed as she craned her neck but failed to spot her brother. “Although keeping his mind firmly fixed on this task seems to be an act of futility.”

  “Your brother?” Eleanor asked, her voice momentarily filled with confusion before her eyes opened wide. “You want him to choose your future husband?”

  Winifred looked at her friend. “Of course. Since my parents are no longer with us, he is the logical choice.” A frown drew down her brows at the surprise on her oldest friend’s face. “I cannot understand why this would surprise you. Have we not spoken about this subject only recently?”

  “We have,” Eleanor conceded. “However, I…I cannot believe you would truly do this.”

  Again, Winifred frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Because…” Shaking her head, Eleanor seemed to be groping for words. Seemingly, it was that kind of evening! “What about love? I know you’re rather practical, but is there no one you care for?”

  Annoyed at this repeated suggestion from the people who ought to know her best, Winifred tried to contain her anger. “You sound like my brother!” she snapped, instantly regretting the harshness in her tone.

  Eleanor, however, did not seem to have noticed as her gaze drifted across the ballroom to the refreshment table. Then she looked at Winifred and taking a step closer whispered, “What about Lord Chadwick?”

  Unprepared for this shock, Winifred momentarily feared she would lose her balance. “Trent?” she all but stammered, trying to keep her wits about her.

  In answer to Winifred’s reaction, Eleanor’s eyes lit up and her lips curled up into a knowing smile. “Trent, is it?”

  Winifred huffed, arms akimbo. “We grew up together. He’s like a brother to me.”

  Eleanor scoffed, “He certainly does not look at you as a brother would.” Holding Winifred’s gaze, she bobbed her head up and down. “You know that as well as I do. Does he make you feel like Griffin does when he’s near you?”

  Winifred swallowed.

  “See?”

  “See what?” Remembering Trent’s teasing, his obnoxious insistence on calling her Fred, Winifred had trouble holding on to her manners. “If you must know that man is the most annoying, insufferable and completely inappropriate person I’ve ever met. That is how he makes me feel! So, whatever you hope to accomplish by this line of questioning, I assure you it will not dissuade me. No, we do not suit one another. I wish for a husband who shares my interests, who understands my character because we are alike, because we have the same expectations in life.”

  “And you think Griffin will find such a man for you?”

  Drawing in a deep breath, Winifred mumbled, “He better, or I swear I will make him pay.”

  Chapter Four – What to Look for in a Husband

  Watching her walk away from him, Trent cursed himself. After all, he had come to Stanhope Grove with every intention of treating her as a gentleman would treat a lady. However, old habits seemed to die particularly hard where Winifred was concerned. The moment she had snapped at him as she had so many times before, he had not been able to resist.

  He had even called her Fred although he knew perfectly well how much she detested that name. Still, he enjoyed teasing her. The way her eyes lit up with fire, shooting arrows at him, entranced him. He could not say why or how, but on some level, he could swear she enjoyed their bickering as well.

  Looking across the ballroom, he saw her speaking to Mrs. Waltham, relieved that at least at present she was not in the arms of another gentleman. The thought alone turned his stomach.

  Still, he knew it was inevitable.

  After all, she was a rare beauty, was she not? Even if he had not been in love with her, he would have thought her magnificent, the way her dark brown eyes shone in the candle light, the grace with which she had moved when she had followed him during their dance. She had truly grown into a remarkable woman, witty and clever, but also kind and loyal, and with a wicked sense of humour that matched his own.

  In that moment as Trent stood on the far side of the ballroom, gazing at the woman he had loved from afar for five years, he finally realised how much he had missed her. How had he survived the past years without seeing her? Without speaking to her?

  Glancing at her brother, Trent gritted his teeth as he saw Griffin’s gaze drifting over the assembled guests, trying to pick out potential suitors, no doubt. Although his friend seemed annoyed with the task, Trent knew that there was no one in the world whom he loved more dearly than Winifred. She was the one who commanded his loyalty and devotion above everyone else, and he would not fail her.

  Again, Griffin’s words echoed in his ears. If you want her hand in marriage, you need to win her heart first. Failure is not an option, or all our lives will take a turn for the worse.

  That day when he had hastened to Atherton House to see his friends after their long absence, Trent had only spoken to Griffin. Although he’d had every intention of seeing Winifred−in fact, it had been the foremost thing on his mind−Griffin’s revelations had shaken him to his core and he had needed time to regain his balance, to decide on a course of action to start fresh and prove to Winifred that he could be the man she wanted.

  However, so far, he’d only made a mess of things! If the looks she occasionally cast in his direction were any indication, he had managed to anger her quite thoroughly. In fact, she seemed spitting mad!

  Throughout the evening, Trent continued to watch the woman he loved dance with one suitable gentleman after another while he cursed himself, her and her efficient brother. Did Griffin have to introduce her to all these men? Could he not at least buy Trent a little more time?

  Would it matter? A rather annoying voice whispered in his head. Either she cares for you or she does not.

  Did she?

  Seeing the gentle smile on her face as she conversed eagerly with her current dance partner, Trent doubted it very much. For if she liked these suitable men, she could never like him, could she? Did that smile on her face truly speak of a certain partiality on her side or was she simply displaying better manners than he had ever possessed?

  With each dance, the knot in his stomach twisted and turned, and when the last notes of yet another piece drifted away, Trent strode forward without conscious thought. All he knew was that he would not stand idly by and watch other men sweep Fred off her feet.

  So, when she inclined her head to her dance partner and turned to leave, he was there, right in front of her, blocking her path.

  Startled, her gaze narrowed, and the soft brown of her eyes ignited instantly. “What are you doing here?” she snapped, casting careful glances around them, trying to keep her voice down despite the anger that made her shoulders tremble. “Let me pass.”

  Stomping on the fear that had grown in his heart throughout the night, Trent held out his hand to her, doing his best to appear the perfect gentleman. “May I have this dance?”

  Instantly, suspicion came to her eyes, and his resolve faltered. How could he ever hope to win her heart if he had to pretend to be someone he was not?

  “I’m afraid I’v
e already promised the next dance to Lord Haverton,” she told him, satisfaction as well as a hint of a challenge in her voice.

  “Lord Haverton?” Trent mumbled as he took a step closer, his gaze fixed on her face. “And does the gentleman know that he has asked you for the next dance?”

  Immediately, her lips clamped shut, and steam seemed to be coming out of her ears. “I would appreciate it, my lord, if you would refrain from calling me a liar.”

  Trent chuckled, “I’ve good reason to, in case you’ve forgotten.” However, glancing around, he saw a good-looking gentleman heading straight toward them, his gaze fixed on Winifred. “As you wish,” Trent said, turning back to her. “However, then I must insist you save me the next dance.”

  Grinning, she asked, “Why ever would I do that?”

  Inhaling a deep breath, he stepped closer and grasped her wrist, surprised to feel her pulse hammering as she tried to tug her hand free. “Believe me, dear Fred,” he whispered, and her gaze narrowed, “you would not want to cause a scene. What would all those eligible bachelors think of you?”

  At his question, all colour drained from her face and she stared at him, her mouth slightly open. “How do you…? I…”

  “Are we in agreement?” he prompted as Lord Haverton drew near.

  Winifred swallowed. “Fine.”

  Reluctantly, Trent released her wrist and nodding to Lord Haverton took his leave. However, from the side of the ballroom, he watched them dance, watched as Lord Haverton tried to make polite conversation, watched as Winifred did her best to answer courteously. Still, her gaze often travelled to him, and Trent could not deny that he felt a deep sense of satisfaction that he had managed to occupy her thoughts so thoroughly.

  The moment the dance ended, Trent strode forward and instantly relieved Lord Haverton of his dance partner. Pulling her farther onto the dance floor, Trent rejoiced when the first notes of a waltz began to echo through the large room.

  Meeting Winifred’s gaze, he reached for her. The moment his hand settled on her waist, she drew in a slow breath. Her gaze, however, remained firmly on his. Only now, her eyes held no anger or annoyance. Now, they held something else entirely.

  Encouraged, Trent pulled her closer, as close as he dared, surprised when she did not pull away, did not fight him. Holding her gaze, he kept his hand firmly on her back, the tips of his fingers gently tracing along her spine.

  At his touch, she inhaled a sharp breath and sank her teeth into her lower lip as her back seemed to arch of its own volition. “Stop,” she whispered almost pleadingly.

  Lowering his head, Trent held her gaze. “Why?” When she did not answer, he asked, “What is it you hope for in a husband?”

  Instantly, her eyes narrowed, and yet, the anger that flashed in them was only a mild echo of what he had seen before. “He shouldn’t have told you,” she whispered, for the first time averting her gaze.

  “He’s my friend,” Trent replied, surprised by the seriousness of their conversation. “You’re his sister. He wants us to be happy.”

  A deep frown drew down her brows. “Us?” Before Trent could reply, realisation came to her eyes and she immediately began to struggle in his arms. “I asked him to assist me in finding a husband,” she prattled, her gaze fixed on something beyond his shoulder as though she did not dare meet his eyes. “As I cannot turn to my parents for help, I thought he would be the logical choice. He promised to take this seriously, to find me a suitable match, someone to share my interests, my fundamental characteristics, my−”

  “What about love?” Trent interrupted, and she immediately stilled in his arms, her gaze flying up to meet his. “And passion?” He inhaled deeply, tightening his hold on her, willing her to see how much she meant to him.

  In answer, her muscles tensed, straining to get away. “You ought not speak of such things,” she snapped, yet her voice lacked strength. “Release me. This does not concern you.”

  Belatedly realising that the music had come to an end, Trent refused to let her slip away. Holding on to her, he lowered his head, his gaze trapping hers. “You concern me,” he whispered. “You always have…and you always will.”

  Thunderstruck, she stared up at him until they both sensed someone’s approach.

  Releasing her from his embrace, Trent looked up and found a rather stocky, young gentleman standing beside them, his pale blue eyes drifting from him to Winifred. “My lady, may I have this dance?”

  Winifred swallowed, her lashes fluttering rapidly as she sought to regain her composure. “Certainly, my lord,” she croaked and allowed him to pull her arm through his. Then she walked away, not even glancing over her shoulder.

  Still, Trent could not help the warmth of hope from spreading into every fibre of his being. If he was not thoroughly mistaken−and he would wager his heart and soul that he was not!−then Winifred did care for him! He almost fainted in relief at the realisation.

  However, she seemed afraid−terrified even!−at the thought of venturing away from her path of rational thought and sensible planning. Yes, they were not compatible in the strictest sense. They bickered and snapped at each other, baited the other and found joy in teasing one another beyond compare.

  Still, Trent had no doubt that she was his other half, and he would not allow anyone else to claim her.

  Sensible suitors be damned!

  Chapter Five – The Wrong Man

  With the beginning of the new season, Winifred found herself in a carriage traveling toward London. Across from her, Griffin sat slumped in his seat, a stack of papers on his lap, from which he picked up one here and there, held it up to his face, read the notes he had scribbled on it before shifting his attention to the next.

  “What are you doing?” Winifred enquired. Never in her life had she seen her brother so devoted to a piece of paper. For all intents and purposes, Griffin was a man of few intellectual interests, at least not those that required him to spend considerable time with pen and paper.

  “Excuse me?” A frown on his face, he looked up, saw the confused expression on her face and sat up, straightening his shoulders with a moan. “Hell, my back hurts. Has this carriage always been this uncomfortable?”

  “I suggest you change your posture. Now, what is this about?” Gesturing to the stack of papers, she turned questioning eyes to him.

  For a moment he frowned, his gaze shifting back and forth between her and the papers on his lap as though the answer should be obvious. “In case you haven’t noticed−which I see that you haven’t!−I have spent the past fortnight cataloguing potential suitors to the best of my abilities.” At her open-mouthed shock, he raised his eyebrows with a touch of haughtiness. “Indeed, after our five-year absence, instead of acquainting myself better with the ladies of the ton, I’ve done nothing but scribble down all those little details I know you think are important about the attending gentlemen at the New Year’s ball at Stanhope Grove. There. Happy?”

  Unable to form a coherent thought, Winifred stared at her brother. “Thank you,” she whispered after a while, feeling tears sting the back of her eyes. “You really do love me, don’t you?”

  All teasing left Griffin’s face as he saw the emotion in her eyes and a large smile claimed his lips. “Most fiercely,” he whispered before he swallowed the lump that seemed to have settled in his own throat and held up one of the papers. “Here, I’ve listed their interests as well as characteristics I’ve become aware of during the ball. Now that the new season has begun, there will be plenty of opportunity to mingle. Once I narrow down my list, I shall see to it that you can meet the more suitable gentlemen in a more private setting, say a dinner party and the like. Seeing you interact with them will give me a better idea of who would suit you the most. Do you have any objections?”

  Winifred shook her head. He had taken her seriously after all! Who would have guessed? After seeing him dancing with that fair-haired beauty, Winifred had assumed he had all but forgotten about his promise. How wrong she had be
en! “Thank you so much for doing this, Griffin. I know this is not easy for you.”

  A strained snort escaped him, and for a moment, he rubbed his hands over his face. “That’s quite the understatement. To tell you the truth, I’ve never been more scared in my life.”

  Winifred frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Griffin swallowed, turning serious eyes to her. “You trust me with your life, your future, your happiness. I’m afraid I’ll make a mistake. I’m afraid because of me you will end up with the wrong man.” He inhaled deeply. “I promise I shall do my utmost to ensure that that doesn’t happen.” Then with a last smile, he turned his attention back to the notes on the paper before him.

  The wrong man? Winifred thought as−unbidden−Trent’s dark green eyes flashed before her inner eye. Although she had tried to banish him from her thoughts for the past fortnight, he refused to release her. Remembering the way he had held her during their second dance still sent shivers down her spine, and she found herself closing her eyes, enjoying the memory of his touch.

  The way he had held her had made her feel safe as though he would not hesitate to move mountains to protect her. Still, the way his hands had travelled over her back had also sent her heart into an uproar. She could still see the way his gaze had burnt into hers and hear his whispered words in her ear. You concern me. You always have…and you always will.

  He had seemed so possessive of her during that dance, not at all like the Trent who always teased her, always called her Fred. For a moment−a short moment−it had almost seemed as though he had wanted to kiss her.

  Winifred’s body hummed with the memory of that feeling. And passion? He had asked. Was that what she had felt?

  Shocked at the boldness of her thoughts, Winifred jerked her eyes open, trying to shake herself out of her daydreaming. Reminding herself that infatuations were always short-lived, she directed her gaze out the window, gazing at the passing landscape.

  Infatuation? She frowned, realising the implication of her thoughts. At what point had she become…infatuated with Trent? Or was it not true? Had it only been the heat of the moment? Would she still feel the way she did now the next time she laid eyes on him?