Benedict felt his heart soften as he looked into her eyes, eyes that appeared almost black in the dark shadows of the night. “My intent is to see that you are not compromised by that rake, Lord Evander. I am here for your protection.”
She let out a mirthless laugh as she took a swift step backwards, away from his touch. “The lion here to protect me from the lamb? Ha! Need I remind you that you have already compromised me, my lord?”
Benedict felt a stab of guilt at her accusation and felt the need to defend himself. “I did not ruin you. No one is aware of what happened between us in the library but you and I.”
Lady Gillian closed her eyes, her dark lashes fluttering against her pale cheeks as she inhaled deeply, angrily. When she opened her eyes, she looked positively murderous. “Just because no one found out does not mean that you did not ruin me, you fool!”
She surprised Benedict by laying her palms on his chest and giving him a hearty push. Benedict stumbled back before finding his footing and standing firm. He grabbed Lady Gillian’s wrists and held them firmly to her sides. As his face lowered towards hers he snarled, “I never meant to ruin you. I was simply proving a point.”
“And you were right, blast it all, for no one has been able to stir me the way that you do. Don’t you see Benedict? Your kiss ruined me for any other man, and I hate you for that. But that is exactly what you intended to happen, wasn’t it?”
Her anger would have unnerved him had he not been elated by her admission. Without letting go of her wrists, he pressed his body against hers and mumbled a hasty, “Then marry me, for I’m about to compromise you again,” before capturing her mouth beneath his own.
Her hands struggled against his, but she presented no real challenge. He successfully held her arms firmly to her sides and though she protested his kiss at first, within seconds he felt her body go limp and her mouth start to respond. Fire swirled within him as his insides clenched tight with a barely restrained passion. She was so lively, so passionate, so beautiful, and he wanted none other.
When he was finally able to part from her lips, he let go of her arms and gathered her to him, using one hand to guide her head to his chest. He laid his cheek against her hair and breathed deeply of her scent. “Gillian, marry me.”
“I cannot,” she muttered apologetically, though he thought it reassuring that she didn’t attempt to pull away.
Benedict’s heart sank. “Why ever not? You said that no man stirred you the way that I do, and it is the same for me. I want these feelings for the rest of my life. I want you.”
She pulled back and searched his face. “What about Miss Graham?”
“Is that what this is about?” he asked gently, his eyes softening as he gazed upon her. “I do not have feelings for Miss Graham, if that is what you are asking. She is the sister of one of my closest friends and I feel a brotherly affection for her. That is all.”
“But are you positive that she does not have feelings for you? I would hate to be the cause of her heartache.”
Benedict chuckled. “She and I have already conversed about such matters, and I can assure you that her feelings are likewise familial.”
Lady Gillian looked momentarily relieved, but then her eyes turned sad. “Benedict, it could never work. What about my mother?”
“What about her?” he asked, unwilling to see the Duchess as an insurmountable challenge.
“She would never allow me to wed you. Never.”
Benedict was thoughtful before asking, “Is my apparel truly of greater importance to her than the fact that her daughter would wed an earl and become a countess? Or the fact that you would be well taken care of and loved for the rest of your life?”
Lady Gillian gasped as she took a step back from him, her eyes twinkling with an emotion he couldn’t quite decipher. She grabbed his hands in her own and pulled them to her breast, causing Benedict to momentarily forget what they were conversing about. “Do you mean it?”
His brain was foggy with desire. “Of course,” he answered, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to.
“You love me?” she asked reverently.
The tone of her voice told him that she needed reassured. He blinked and forced his mind away from fantasies of possessing her and said honestly, “I do.”
“Oh Benedict,” she breathed huskily, taking his mind instantly back to his wicked fantasies. He wanted to hear her sigh his name longingly for the rest of his life.
He cupped her face in his hands and just before his lips touched hers, he urged once more, “Marry me.”
“Give me time to work on my mother,” she pleaded as she searched his face.
Not exactly the answer he wanted. There were no admissions of love in return and no ready acceptance of his proposal, but at least she hadn’t refused him outright. “Of course,” he smiled before placing a gently kiss to her lips. “But not too long.”
Chapter 13
Gillian slipped back into the house and quickly made to find Lord Evander. Her mind was awash with so many different emotions. She wanted nothing more than to go home and retire to her room in silence so she could attempt to sort through the recent happenings with Benedict. Her heart swelled when she thought about him promising to love her for the rest of her life. Was it possible that she returned his feelings? She wasn’t entirely certain.
“Lady Gillian, I am right here.”
Gillian turned to see she had walked right past Lord Evander. She politely took his offered arm. “I beg your pardon, my lord. My mind is a million miles away.”
“Yes,” he laughed, “I can see that. Is everything well?”
Gillian pondered on how she should answer that. “Yes, though I’m suddenly feeling faint. Perhaps I should find my mother.”
“Allow me to escort you.”
Gillian let Lord Evander lead her through the throngs of people until they finally found her mother conversing with Lady Tartwell and Lady Juniper. Her mother ceased speaking as she approached, a pleased smile on her face.
“Allow me to introduce you to my eldest daughter, Lady Gillian. This is her first season.” The ladies curtsied before her as they said their greetings. “And this fine young gentleman is Lord Evander.”
Lord Evander bowed before each of them before returning his attention to her mother. “I’m afraid that Lady Gillian is feeling faint. Perhaps it is best if I see her home.”
The Duchess of Chesley’s eyes widened with delight at the same time that Gillian’s heart sank. She did not wish to be alone with Lord Evander, for surely he would feel welcome to kiss her after her forwardness during their prior outing to the theatre. And now that she had been branded with Benedict’s kiss once more, she was positively certain that she’d never be the same again, that no other man would do. She had no desire to encourage Lord Evander in his pursuit.
“Oh how kind of you to offer, Lord Evander, but I do not wish for you to leave the party so early. My mother can see me home, thank you.” She hoped that no one would protest further.
“Are you absolutely certain?” he asked her, slightly puzzled.
“But of course,” she answered honestly, though she did so without so much as looking at his face. She couldn’t stand the look of disappointment he was sure to be wearing.
As soon as they were seated comfortably in their carriage, her mother turned to her in disbelief. “I cannot believe you refused Lord Evander’s offer to see you home. Clearly he is interested in you.”
“And clearly I am not interested in him,” she retorted hotly.
Her mother’s hand flew to her breast as she opened and shut her mouth several times before finally saying, “How could you say such a thing? He is splendidly handsome and demure and has been persistently perusing you. Pray tell what you find so offensive about the man.”
“Nothing, for he has behaved himself as a perfect gentleman should.”
“Then I fail to see the problem, Gillian,” her mother said coldly. “I am not amused by these mind games you
are trying to play with me. I thought that you welcomed Lord Evander’s pursuit.”
Gillian sat on the edge of her seat. “I did, at first.”
“Then what is the problem?” her mother asked, her voice raising angrily as she enunciated each word slowly.
“The problem is that I do not feel anything when he touches me, nor does his personality intrigue or excite me.”
“La!” the duchess scoffed, removing her gloves and using them to swat at Gillian’s thighs. “You are beginning to sound as pea brained as Phoebe. She is always reading those silly gothic novels and day dreaming about absurd notions such as finding true love’s kiss. Let me be the first to inform you that such a thing does not exist. You would do well to cease fantasizing about some abstract motion and settle for finding a man who will provide you with a comfortable existence.”
“Is that what you did, mother?”
Gillian watched as her mother squirmed uncomfortably in her seat while glaring boldly at her. “My business is none of your affair. We are talking about your life here, not mine.”
“Well let me inform you of something, mother. Those silly notions, as you put it, do indeed exist. For I have found a man who not only will provide me with the lifestyle you require for my future, but he loves me as well and I have strong feelings for him in return.” Her mother was momentarily speechless so Gillian continued, wishing to make the matter perfectly clear. “And that man is not Lord Evander.”
Her mother sprung from her seat and settled herself on the bench next to Gillian taking both of her hands into her own, her mood changing so drastically that it made Gillian’s head spin. “Tell me who this man is. Is it the Viscount Adderleigh’s son? I had heard that he was enamored with you.”
“I do not even know the man,” Gillian scoffed, completely dismayed.
“Well then do not keep me in suspense any longer, who is the lucky gentleman?”
Gillian was hesitant to tell her mother, knowing full well that she would not react positively to her admission, but when her mother continued to badger her, she finally relented. “It is none other than Benedict St. Claire, the Earl of Danford.”
The duchess promptly fainted.
Gillian scooped her mother into her arms and gently shook her. “Mother? Mother, can you hear me?” Her mother did not give any response.
She held her firmly in her arms and waited for the carriage to arrive at their townhouse. As soon as the carriage lurched to a stop, a footman opened the door and Gillian screamed, “Quick! Go get father, mother has fainted.”
Long minutes passed until her father finally appeared. “Gillian, whatever happened?”
She transferred her mother to her father’s arms as she spoke, “I will tell you once we are inside.”
Her father nodded his agreement as they made their way into the house. Walking into the drawing room, the Duke of Chesley promptly laid his wife on the rose settee and instructed a maid to fetch some smelling salts and a glass of water. As she did so, he demanded Gillian explain what had happened.
“Well, father,” Gillian said nervously, “I simply told her that I had found the gentleman I wish to wed.”
Her father’s eyes widened in surprise. “Well that was certainly fast Gillian, though I fail to see why that would shock your mother so. We had fully expected for you to make a match before the season’s end. My question to you is, does this man return your feelings?”
“Of course he does,” she said proudly. “And I am certain he will be calling on you shortly to discuss the arrangements.”
“Over my dead body,” her mother shrilled as she flailed wildly on the settee in an attempt to rise, having suddenly come to.
“Calm down, Phillipa,” the duke commanded as he shoved her gently back down. “What has gotten in to you?”
“Your daughter is attempting to ruin her reputation by aligning herself with that fool.”
“What fool?” he commanded to know as both of his white eyebrows came together in a straight line over his eyes.
He looked to his daughter for an explanation, which she promptly gave. “He is not a fool, father. He is the Earl of Danford.”
“By gads, Gillian, the Earl of Danford is a married man!” her father exclaimed, his cheek twitching in a manner that gave display to his anger.
“Oh Charles,” the duchess groaned dramatically. “You are behind the times. If you would bother going into society more frequently you’d be up to date on all of the latest. Or heaven forbid you simply listen to me when I speak, for I am absolutely certain that I told you that Timothy St. Claire passed on this past winter. His son is now the earl.”
“Well that’s a relief. For a moment I was worried that our daughter was in love with a married man.”
“Well this could be worse,” the duchess wailed, digging her hands angrily into the settee cushions.
“Stop it with your theatrics, Phillipa. What is it about the earl that has you so worked up? You always spoke fondly of the late Lord Danford. Surely his son is cut from the same cloth.”
The duchess sat up and grabbed the glass of water rudely from the maid who had just returned. She took a long sip of the liquid before shakily handing it back to the maid. “His attire is grossly out of fashion.”
A thick silence ensued. The duke blinked several times as if he could not believe what he was hearing. “That is it?” he finally asked, perplexed by why his wife who was nearly giving herself an apoplexy over such an inconsequential matter.
“Isn’t that enough? He has repeatedly made a cake of himself by showing up at one event or the other in ridiculous attire. If Gillian associates with him, she will become a pariah.”
“Phillipa, dear, I think you are overreacting,” the duke said, voicing Gillian’s exact same thoughts.
“How dare you, Charles!” the duchess shrieked, offended by her husband’s inability to see reason.
“Now, now,” the duke said as he patted her hand in an attempt to soothe her, “we will finish discussing this later, in private. Understood?” In lieu of an answer, Phillipa jutted her chin out and turned her face away from him.
Her poor father, Gillian thought as she watched her mother’s childish antics. She was grateful that it was him who would be dealing with her emotional outbursts further this night and not her.
“Father?” she asked softly when the silence in the room stretched out uncomfortably. “May I retire for the night?”
Her father nodded while giving her a wan smile. “Yes, dear. We will discuss this matter further once I have finished this conversation with your mother.”
Gillian turned and walked slowly up to her room. She felt drained by the night’s events. Her moods had vacillated between anger, elation, and extreme irritation, and at the moment she found herself feeling resentful towards her mother for ruining her earlier excitement at Lord Danford’s marriage proposal and his subsequent proclamation of love.
Sarah was waiting for her the minute she walked into her room. No doubt some of the other servants had alerted her to their early arrival home. She was certain her mother’s outlandish behavior would be the cause of much gossip below stairs. As soon as her gown had been traded for a thin cotton night dress and her hair had been brushed and plaited, she turned to Sarah and asked, “Would you fetch me a hot milk posset?”
“But of course, my lady.”
As soon as Sarah had departed, Gillian went and sat before the fireplace. Several logs sat in the hearth but a fire was not lit. With the advent of summer, Gillian instructed the servants not to light a fire in the evenings, for she preferred to sleep with a slight chill in the air, finding that she slept much deeper when she did.
What was she going to do to convince her mother to allow her to wed Lord Danford? Her mind mulled over several ideas but none of them seemed promising. It vexed her to no end that her mother was being so stubborn over a man’s choice of clothing. Would it be too forward of her to suggest to Benedict that he commission a new wardrobe now t
hat he had confessed his love for her? Gillian contemplated the idea, for it certainly had merit. How could her mother continue to refuse Lord Danford if he was no longer an unfashionable embarrassment?
Her heart lightened the more she thought about what seemed a simple solution. Yes, she’d just have to be bold with him, which had certainly never been a problem for her in the past. She smiled for the first time since she left his presence earlier that evening.
Sarah returned with a steaming mug of posset. Gillian cupped the drink in her hands for a moment before taking a long, calming sip. She would need its soothing effects to sleep peacefully after the eventful evening she’d had. Sarah turned down her bed while she waited for Gillian to finish the concoction before taking the empty mug from her hands and departing.
Gillian was just about to crawl into her bed when she heard a thump behind her. Startled, she turned around and observed her surroundings. There on the floor below the open window lay a small bouquet of flowers with a roll of parchment hanging from the tiny, pink ribbon that was tied around them. Picking it up, she hurried to the window to see if the person who had bestowed the gift was still there. She looked out the window just in time to see the unmistakeable silhouette of Lord Danford as he retreated down the street and away from their townhouse. Gillian smiled widely as she watched his figure until she could no longer see him in the dark.
Turning from the window, she undid the ribbon holding the flowers together and unrolled the parchment. She laid the flowers gently on her desk and began to read: The minutes tick by in long, painful agony
each moment we are forced to be apart.
I long to gaze upon your face,
though it’s memory is emblazoned forever upon my heart.
Your touch, your kiss, your witty repartee…
I confess, that is all I’ve got, but that should come as no surprise to you seeing as how you were already aware that I am most definitely not a poet. I beg your forgiveness for my lack of skill with the pen and hope you do not hold it against me that I could not finish the verse. Sleep well, my darling, and dream of me, for I will be dreaming of you.
Unconventional Suitors 01 - Her Unconventional Suitor Page 10