“No,” he blurted out. “I mean yes…I mean, let’s cease this conversation now and not speak of it again.”
“Ever?”
His eyes lowered to her lips and she watched as he moistened his own lips with his tongue. Oddly enough, her toes curled once more. “My lord, you failed to answer my question.”
His eyes snapped up to hers. “We can speak of it again, in the future, if such need ever arises, but fiend seize it, do not speak of it to another gentleman again, understood? This type of conversation has an unsettling affect on a man.”
“Yes, I can see that,” she grinned.
When the dance ended, Lord Danford was still flustered. She hooked her arm around his elbow so he could escort her back to her mother, only, he didn’t deliver her to her mother at all. He strolled right past her, without so much as glancing in her direction and only came to a stop when he approached Lords Dawkins, Straton, and Mr. Graham.
“I hate to point out the obvious, but my mother is standing over there,” she said as she gestured one gloved hand to where her mother was standing, her mouth agape and confusion marring her brow.
“Ah Beni,” Mr. Graham said, slapping the earl on the shoulder, “has your time abroad made you forget about the rules of social propriety?”
Lord Danford’s eyes darkened. “Beni? To whom are you referring?”
Mr. Graham looked at the earl as if he had gone mad. “Why you, of course. It has been your nickname since you were a lad, remember?”
Gillian giggled behind her fan. It was obvious that the earl was quite discomfited by his friend’s intimate address. The poor man seemed to have a problem keeping his composure.
“Are you laughing at my expense?” Lord Danford asked her boldly, his eyes narrowing upon her.
Her eyes widened and her mouth formed an “o.” “Of course not, my lord, I would never do such a thing.”
“Somehow I do not believe you,” he scowled.
Lord Dawkins grabbed two glasses of lemonade off of the table next to him. He offered one of them to Gillian, which she took. “Believe me when I say, if you think him amusing now, you should have seen him before we attempted to aid him in his transition back into society.”
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked curiously.
“His clothing, for example.” Lord Dawkins paused long enough to take a deep swallow of his lemonade, “they were horrendously out of style before we so graciously stepped in to help him.”
Gillian choked on her lemonade. “You mean to say that you gentlemen are responsible for his appearance?”
Lord Danford smiled down on her. “Yes, you must give them all of the credit for this.” He swept his hand down the length of his body, drawing her attention once more to the ill fighting breeches he wore. She gulped loudly, trying to tamper down the improper thoughts those breeches elicited, though why she would be having improper thoughts about the earl was beyond her comprehension.
She moved her eyes from Lord Straton, to Lord Dawkins, then finally to Mr. Graham. “What splendid friends you all are. The earl should consider himself lucky.” They all beamed and she wanted to urge each one of them to try harder in their efforts, for surely they had come up short. But maybe Lord Danford would only allow them to make minor changes to his person. Perhaps with time they’d be able to bring him up to snuff.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I better return to my mother before she has a fit of the vapours at my absence. And do not worry. I am very capable of seeing myself there.” She gave them each a royal nod of her head before quickly scurrying to her mother’s side, relieved to be away from the awkward tension that seemed to envelope the four friends.
Heaven help her, she thought. If the Earl of Danford had been even more unfashionable before his friends had come to his aide, he was a most pitiful soul indeed. How fortunate for him to have such caring and helpful friends.
Chapter 5
Benedict sat at the table in the breakfast room, wearing some of his new clothing that had arrived from the tailor only days before. He had never appreciated the proper fit of his expensive clothing as much as he did in that moment. His tan breeches fit snugly over his legs, but still allowed him to move freely and comfortably, unlike the blasted breeches he had worn the night before that made him feel as if lifting his leg too high would have caused a tragic accident indeed. He couldn’t keep himself from glancing down at the navy blue suit coat he wore, appreciating very much the fact that the sleeves covered all of his arms.
He had several items of business he needed to attend to that morning, but none of it involved going into society, so he had gladly instructed Jonathan to dress him in some of his new clothing. His mother had still not risen so he was breaking his fast in splendid silence. He had heard enough chatter at the ball the night prior to last him for a lifetime.
He spread raspberry jam thickly on his scone, taking a generous bite as his mind wandered back to Lady Gillian’s lips. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the outspoken beauty. He had to give his friends credit for picking a challenging girl to woo, but at least she was a vision to behold. Finishing up his scone with a swallow of warm chocolate, he leaned back in his chair and contemplated what he would need to do to get the chit to see him as more than just a fool, a highly unfashionable one at that.
His musings were interrupted by his butler, Townsend, entering the room carrying a silver tray with a cream colored envelope on top.
“What is this?” Benedict asked curiously as Townsend approached and held the missive before him.
“I was instructed to deliver it to you posthaste.”
Benedict swiftly broke the seal and pulled out a piece of parchment. His stomach sank as he recognized Griffin’s familiar script. What were his friends up to now?
Dearest Beni—
Congratulations on the successful start of your challenge. I think it’s safe to say that Lady Gillian was highly impressed with you. At this rate, you’ll be engaged before the week’s end!
But, on a more serious note, you have your work cut out for you and we, your splendid friends, insist on aiding you to the best of our abilities. A carriage has been instructed to pick you up at 1 o’clock and will deliver you to the Duke of Chesley’s townhouse where you are to call on Lady Gillian this afternoon. Everything you will need for your visit, you will find in the carriage. Let us remind you that you will need to be dressed in proper attire for the occasion.
Best of luck,
Griffin, Warren, and Marcus
Benedict crumpled up the note and threw it angrily on the plate of remaining food in front of him. Blast his friends! He had things to do that didn’t involve ill-fitting clothing and embarrassing scenarios. Besides, if he was going to try and woo Lady Gillian, he wanted to do it on his own terms, not be dictated by those imbeciles he calls his friends. Rising from his chair, he knew he had no choice but to do as they said. If he didn’t, Griffin would promptly send word to his mother about his half-brother and he couldn’t risk her finding out.
His father and mother had been a love match, but during a particularly stressful time in their marriage when his mother had suffered the loss of several unborn children, she had begun to withdraw from his father, and him, and any other pursuit that had previously brought her joy. In a moment of weakness his father had turned to a lover to satisfy his needs, which resulted in the birth of his half-brother, Anthony.
His father had never meant for any of them to find out, but just before Benedict left for Eton, he had discovered his father’s secret when he had the misfortune of overhearing a conversation between his father and his former lover, who had come with the hopeful intent of seeking his companionship once more. Luckily, his father had turned her away but Benedict had been shocked and disappointed to learn of the past nonetheless. To learn of his father’s indiscretion had been hurtful for him, but he knew that if his mother were to ever find out, it would break her heart completely.
It was no secret that many members o
f the ton took mistresses and lovers behind their spouse’s back, but that was not the kind of relationship his mother and father had shared, at least as far as his mother was concerned. To his dying day, his father never knew that anyone besides the parties involved were aware of his indiscretion, and the identity of his father’s lover remains a complete mystery even now, which was completely fine by Benedict.
Benedict had remained tight lipped about the information he had stumbled upon, until it became too much for him to bear. In a moment of weakness, after consuming too much liquor, he poured his heart out to his closest friends—Griffin, Warren, and Marcus, revealing his father’s painful actions. He regretted the vulnerable moment completely, now that they had chosen to leverage the information to their advantage, threatening to reveal the painful secret from the past to his mother if he didn’t do as they wished. It was perhaps the only thing that could motivate him to accept their ridiculous bet, and Griffin had known that.
He stalked sullenly all the way back to his bedchamber, where he instructed Jonathan to help him into some of the dreadful clothing his friends had provided that was now hanging in his dressing room, next to the new wardrobe he’d had commissioned. He thought that Jonathan was going to have an apoplexy at his order, but the man wisely held his tongue.
He pulled on a pair of mustard colored breeches that had the opposite problem as the ones from the prior evening—they were unfashionably loose, causing the wide fall to gape at his waist making it appear as if he had a ghastly thick midsection. The green jacket Jonathan helped him into smelled of moth balls. The overall affect was very unflattering indeed.
Benedict glanced at the clock sitting on his mantel. His carriage was scheduled to arrive in five minutes, though why his friends thought it necessary to send one when he had a perfectly fine one of his own, was beyond him. No doubt their intent was to embarrass him further, he thought with irritation.
Racing down the stairs, Benedict nearly knocked into his mother, the Dowager Countess of Danford, who was dressed and ready for the day, wearing a lavender gown as she was still in half-mourning. He came to a stop in front of her, bowed his head, and made to move past her and out the front door before she could say anything. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite quick enough.
“Benedict St. Claire, wherever are you going dressed like that? Is there a masquerade party I have not been made aware of?”
Benedict cringed before turning to face her. “Good morning, Mother. You are looking rather lovely today. Is that a new dress?”
“Do not attempt to distract me from your horrendous appearance. Tell me where you are going and why you are dressed like a street urchin.”
A street urchin? Wasn’t that a little harsh? He knew he couldn’t tell her the truth, for if she knew he was on his way to pay a visit to Lady Gillian, she’d forbid him to leave the house. “I have some business I need to see to this morning, and I didn’t want to risk ruining some of my new clothing.”
“Oh Benedict,” she laughed mirthlessly, “I think we can afford the risk. Please, go change at once.”
The clock chimed 1 o’clock. “I’m afraid I do not have time. Good day.” Benedict quickly saw himself out. He knew he’d be subjected to a scolding upon his return, but he would deal with that when the time came.
Turning form the door, Benedict looked up to behold a bedraggled carriage that was years out of fashion. He watched as an aging footman stepped down to open the door, and he briefly wondered if the dratted thing was safe to ride in. He’d find out soon enough, he thought, as he stepped inside and the footman slammed the door behind him.
Lying on the faded and worn seat sat a pathetic looking bouquet of pansies and another envelope. He hesitantly picked it up and opened it with trepidation.
He unfolded two sheets of parchment and read the one on top first:
Beni—
We cannot wait to hear how Lady Gillian likes the flowers and poem. Make sure to give it to her whilst you are calling on her, lest we have it delivered at a very inopportune moment.
Best regards!
Benedict moaned as he slid the poem from beneath the letter and began to read:
My darling Lady Gillian,
who’s eyes shine like the brightest marigold.
You are a vision to behold.
Have you been told?
You dance like a gliding swan,
and your hair is the color of a fawn.
If I was an artist, I would draw you.
That was it? It was hands down the worst poem Benedict had ever read. How could somebody’s eyes shine like a marigold? And Lady Gillian’s hair wasn’t the color of a fawn at all. He placed his head in his hands and groaned at the thought of presenting the lovely Lady Gillian with such an atrocious poem. She would be appalled, and rightfully so.
***
Gillian hid a yawn behind her hand, hoping not to offend Lord Weatherby who was droning on and on about the latest stallion he had just purchased from Tattersall’s. Truthfully, it didn’t matter what subject he chose to speak on, his monotone voice would bore her regardless.
Gillian’s eyes wandered around the pink drawing room and took in the endless vases of flowers she had been presented with by her plethora of morning callers. They ranged from lilies to roses, from simple arrangements to ostentatious ones, and the scent that permeated the air was overwhelming.
All of a sudden, Lord Weatherby rose, drawing Gillian’s attention back to the dull man. “I must bid you good day, my lady.”
Gillian wanted to say good riddance, but instead, she nodded to the gentleman. “Likewise, my lord,” then watched as he saw himself out of the room.
As soon as he left, she sighed and fell back into the cushions of the settee. It was the first time that day that she’d had a break in callers. It fascinated her to see such a wide range of gentleman paying her a call, the men as varied as the flowers they presented her with, but she had to admit that it was getting rather wearisome.
“Sit up straight, Gillian, before anybody else arrives.”
Gillian did as her mother bade, just as another visitor was shown into the room. She struggled to keep the disappointment and disgust she felt from showing on her face as Lord Stephen sauntered into the room.
“These are for you, Lady Gillian,” he said as he thrust forth a rather large bouquet of pink roses. She took them and buried her face in them, so as to avoid looking into his face. She had decided quite positively that she did not much care for the man after his remarks to her the night prior and had been desperately hoping he wouldn’t come calling this day.
He made his way to a chair across from her as she rose to place the bouquet of roses on the only free spot on the mantel. When she resumed sitting, she said, “What brought you here today, Lord Stephen?”
He looked at her quizzically before saying, “Why you, of course. I came to pay you a call and converse with you for a bit.”
“But you yourself said that you thought women were only good for a few select pursuits, conversing not being one of those you listed.” She wasn’t sure whether it was her mother or Lord Stephen who gasped, perhaps both, but she didn’t feel the least bit guilty for her bold comment.
“My lady,” Lord Stephen stammered, “perhaps you are confused by my comments last night. I had an inkling that you may have misread some of my statements, so I came to make my apologies and ask if you’d like to join me on a ride through Hyde Park later this afternoon.”
Gillian was about to tell him that she was not daft, and that she was positively certain that she had heard and interpreted his comments correctly, when she was interrupted by a deep voice.
“Unfortunately, Lord Stephen, she cannot go with you this afternoon, for she has already promised to accompany me.” Gillian’s eyes snapped towards the door where she saw that Lord Danford had just entered the room.
“What is that fool doing here?” her mother whispered under her breath and though Gillian heard her, she chose to ignore her pert
urbed question.
Gillian sat in shock as she watched him cross the floor and present her with a wilted bouquet of pansies, which she gingerly took in her gloved hands. Looking into his eyes, she said, “Thank you.” Lord Danford winked at her surreptitiously before sitting in the chair next to Lord Stephen’s.
“How could she have already promised to accompany you on a ride, when you have only just arrived?” Lord Stephen asked, flabbergasted.
Gillian looked at Lord Danford, curious as to how he’d respond.
“I simply asked her last night, while we were dancing, if she would care to go on a ride with me. I had a feeling that many gentlemen would be vying for her attention, so I decided to beat them to it. Clever, don’t you think?”
Lord Stephen didn’t look amused. “Is this true, Lady Gillian? Are you indeed going to be seen about Hyde Park during the fashionable hour with him?”
“Yes Gillian,” her mother said icily. “Is it true?”
Gillian glanced from her mother to Lord Danford, who sat confidently in the wing-backed chair. For a moment she was unsure of how to answer. Certainly she had her reservations about being seen around town with the earl. She did not want to give anyone the wrong impression, but if she refused his offer, she’d be obligated to accept Lord Stephen’s, and the thought of spending more time in his company was unsettling.
“He did ask first,” she answered lamely, avoiding her mother’s eyes. Lord Stephen scowled while her mother crossed her arms across her chest and huffed in a very unladylike fashion. Lord Danford beamed. His smile made him appear rather handsome, if it weren’t for his dreadful clothing.
Lord Stephen rose stiffly from the chair. “Perhaps another time.”
“Perhaps,” Gillian replied. “Good day.”
Gillian didn’t even wait for him to fully leave before she turned to Lord Danford and asked, “Would you care for some tea?”
“No, thank you. However, I did bring something for you.”
Unconventional Suitors 01 - Her Unconventional Suitor Page 4