He chanced a quick glance to Lady Gillian who was looking at their hostess with amusement. “How utterly genius of you to best the boys at their own game. I think it fair to say they deserved whatever difficulty you gave them and then some.”
Benedict felt the need to defend himself. “Now, Lady Gillian, I cannot let you continue to think that Lady Cantrell was always the offended party, for surely there were plenty of times that she was the instigator.”
“Oh, do tell,” she said as she laid her spoon down and clapped her hands together with glee.
Benedict looked across the table at Griffin who was seated next to Lady Gillian. “Lord Straton, remember the time that Lady Cantrell attempted to chase us away from their home for good?”
Griffin’s eyebrows rose, “But of course. How can I ever forget? Though I’m not entirely sure the story is appropriate to be shared around the dinner table.”
“Oh nonsense,” Lady Cantrell reprimanded Griffin. “You know yourself that I have never been a stickler for propriety. Besides, that was one of my finest pranks, and I insist it be shared.”
The entire table went silent as they anxiously awaited for the tale to be told. Lady Cantrell urged Griffin to continue with a flicking motion of her hand. He finally relented. “Very well, though I wish to preface the story with a warning that—”
“Oh fustian,” she said, cutting him off as was her habit when she was excited. Anxious to tell her side of the story, Lady Cantrell continued at a rapid pace, “Lord Danford and Lord Straton had pushed me to the edge of insanity when they had taken my poodle, Jericho, hunting. He proudly returned with his kill, a pheasant he hid under my bed, which was not discovered until the rotting fume became unbearable. I can still remember the look on my maid’s face when she discovered the decomposed bird. That is the reason I decided to do what I did to them both.”
Benedict and Griffin shared a knowing look before an ungentlemanly laugh poured forth from both of them. Lady Cantrell eyed them both curiously. “I must confess that Jericho had nothing to do with the hidden bird, it was I who planted it.” Griffin admitted, somewhat proudly.
Lady Cantrell’s eyes widened, “La! Then I erase completely any regret I have harbored all these years at the revenge I inflicted as a result. I thought your only offense was taking my dog hunting, but I can see that I was very wrong. You two deserved everything you got! Poor Jericho, if he were still alive I would insist you apologize to him at once.”
“Apologize to a dog?” Benedict asked with dismay.
“Yes, apologize. I locked the poor pup out of my room from that day forth, afraid of what else he might bring inside.”
“Now dear, calm down,” Lord Cantrell said from the other end of the table, “the poor dog has been dead for years. There is no use in wasting your sorrow on him any longer. Lord Danford, before my wife gets too out of sorts, I insist you lighten the mood by telling us of her revenge.”
“Very well.” Benedict acquiesced, seeing the wisdom in the viscount’s plan. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his linen napkin before setting it down on the table. “After the pheasant incident, Bethany er, Lady Cantrell begged her mother to not allow us to come for our customary summer visit, but her mother refused to listen.” Benedict turned to Marcus, “Your mother always held a particular fondness for Griffin and I.”
“That is a lie,” Warren interrupted. “You know very well that it is I that Lady Graham harbors a tender affection for. She would have been delighted to have refused your visits, but she knew that if you weren’t allowed to come, I wouldn’t have been allowed either.”
Miss Graham smiled at Warren, “I think that is true, for mother still thinks you are the best of Marcus’s friends to this day.”
Warren beamed victoriously. “Thank you, Miss Graham.”
Benedict didn’t miss the look of elation that flitted across Serena’s face at Warren’s praise. He wondered how he had completely overlooked her affection for his friend all these years. Turning his mind back to his story, he continued. “Once we arrived at Brackingham Abbey, Lady Cantrell went to work. She bribed the servants into giving her access to our rooms where she quickly went about loosening the seams on several articles of our clothing. We did not know that anything was amiss until we arrived for dinner that evening and, much to our embarrassment, our clothing began to fall apart before the first course was even completed.”
“No!” Lady Adel gasped in horror.
“Oh yes, it’s all very true,” Lady Cantrell giggled as she remembered her past shenanigans. “When Lord Straton reached for his wine, his coat sleeve slid down his arm and landed in his bowl of soup, leaving his shirtsleeve indecently exposed.”
Lady Adel stared at Griffin with disbelief before quickly putting her hands to her mouth in an attempt to hide her giggle.
“Laugh all you want,” Griffin scowled at her, “but I can assure you that my embarrassment was nothing compared to Lord Danford’s.”
“Oh please, do tell us,” Lady Gillian urged excitedly.
It was Benedict’s turn to scowl as Griffin eagerly began to share his embarrassment. “Nobody was aware that anything was amiss, they all blamed my valet for the blunder because for the remainder of dinner, there were no further clothing issues. It wasn’t until Lord Danford stood up from the table and turned, revealing a rather large split in the seat of his breeches that we began to realize that something havey cavey was going on.”
A gasp of shock was heard throughout the table before everyone present, Benedict excluded, burst out into peals of laughter. He turned to a very amused and proud looking Lady Cantrell and said, “I hope you are pleased with yourself, for your outlandish stunt continues to amuse to this day.”
“Quite pleased, I will admit.”
When the laughter died down and the next course had been served, Lord Evander turned to Benedict and said, “It seems you have had longstanding issues with your wardrobe.” The entire party went deathly silent, but Lord Evander seemed oblivious to the tension he had created. “I have an excellent tailor I could recommend to you.”
Lord Evander’s boldness surprised him, though he knew it was due to the lighthearted circumstances of the dinner party. He should have known that somebody would venture to make a comment regarding his wardrobe, but he wasn’t prepared with a ready response.
Lady Gillian both surprised and embarrassed him by coming to his defense, “Oh how kind of you Lord Evander, but Lord Danford has informed me that he has already had an entirely new wardrobe commissioned.”
Griffin picked up his wine glass and took a long swallow. Setting the glass back down he looked directly at Benedict and asked, “Is that true, Beni?”
Benedict gulped loudly as he tugged at his cravat. He had no idea how he was supposed to answer Griffin’s question. Lady Gillian looked at him intently, waiting for his response. Finally he responded, “Unfortunately, Lady Gillian, I have yet to visit my tailor. I have had an incredibly busy week and simply ran out of time.”
Lady Gillian looked at him confused, “But I thought you said that…”
“Yes,” Griffin leaned forward, “what did you say?”
Benedict straightened, looking squarely at Griffin so as to avoid Lady Gillian’s intent gaze. “I simply told Lady Gillian that I would look into having a new wardrobe commissioned, though I have yet to do so.” He wanted to make sure that Griffin knew without a doubt that he had not done anything to break the rules of the bet.
Finally, Griffin picked up his fork and said joyfully, so as to break the tension that had prevailed upon the party, “Well, I suggest you keep your word to the lovely Lady Gillian, for I’d hate to see her disappointed.”
Benedict wanted to curse. Of course he’d encourage him to do as Lady Gillian said, for Griffin knew that if he were to do so, Benedict would lose the bet. The rest of the dinner felt awkward to Benedict as he could not ignore the pained looked on Lady Gillian’s face no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t blame her for feeli
ng as if he had lied to her, for he certainly had.
Guilt remained his companion for the remainder of the evening. A night that he had anticipated greatly had quickly turned into an evening he wished to erase.
Chapter 17
Gillian sat in the drawing room, talking animatedly with her Aunt Miranda. “I just do not understand why he told me he would commission a new wardrobe if he did not mean to do so.”
Miranda scrunched her eyes as she worked on her embroidery. “He did say that he was busy.”
“But that’s just it, Aunt Miranda, one would think, and hope, that it would be a priority for him. He is aware of the controversy he has caused with my mother, not to mention the rest of the ton, and I would think he would have a desire to rectify it quickly, for my benefit as well as hers.”
Aunt Miranda laid her embroidery in her lap. Looking at Gillian, she asked, “Do you really want my opinion?”
“But of course I do. I would not be discussing such matters with you if I did not desire your input.”
“Good. Here is what I think—I find Lord Danford to be quite delightful. He is as handsome as you described and very entertaining and it appears that despite his hideous clothing, he has several good friends who rather enjoy his company. If you care for him, then I suggest you take him at his word and believe that indeed, he was too busy to visit his tailor. Do not go seeking trouble where there is none.”
Gillian appraised her beautiful Aunt and smiled. “You are right. I have not known Lord Danford long enough to be able to judge his character entirely. He has never given me a reason not to trust him, so until he does so, I will just have to take him at his word.”
“Yes, that is wise of you. Trust me when I say that jumping to conclusions can be a very hasty and foolish thing to do.”
Gillian watched Aunt Miranda resume her embroidery. She wondered, not for the first time why she was not yet wed. She knew that at four and twenty years, her aunt was very much considered on the shelf, but what she didn’t understand was why no gentleman managed to snag her hand in marriage during her previous seasons before she had chosen to withdraw from society this past year. She was an ethereal beauty and very enjoyable to be around, why she would remain single was a perplexing mystery to Gillian.
“What are you staring at so intently?” Aunt Miranda asked without even looking up from her embroidery.
“Aunt Miranda, why aren’t you married?”
Aunt Miranda looked away from her embroidery and stared sadly out the window. “It is not because of lack of desire, I can assure you.”
“Then why did you remove yourself from London and refuse to participate in the season?”
“Because somebody needed to watch after your brother and sister while you had your debut,” she explained kindly, though the sadness never left her face.
Gillian scoffed, “But there are governesses aplenty that my father could have hired.”
“That is true, Gillian. But suffice it to say that it was an arrangement that worked to my advantage as well. I desired to get away from London so I was quick to offer my services to your parents. Now,” she said as she patted Gillian’s arm gently, “you must cease worrying about me and worry about more important things, like a certain suitor that has just arrived to call on you.”
Gillian straightened and looked at Miranda oddly, “Lord Danford is here? How did you know?”
“Because I could see him alighting from his carriage through the window. He is making his way in just now.”
Gillian rose from the settee and waited anxiously for Lord Danford to be shown in. He walked into the drawing room holding an extravagant bouquet of red roses and lilies. He presented them to her with a flourish, “Please allow me to make my apologies.”
Gillian took the offered flowers, breathing deeply of their intoxicating scent. “Your apologies for what, my lord?”
Lord Danford looked at her, one eyebrow quirked, “Is your memory that short, my lady?”
Gillian exhaled. “No, my lord, it isn’t. I was trying to take my Aunt Miranda’s advice to heart and not let what happened last night bother me.”
“But I would not fault you at all if you were bothered.”
“Truthfully?” she asked as she searched his handsome face.
Lord Danford glanced quickly to Aunt Miranda who did not appear to be paying them any mind. “No, I would not fault your for being upset at me for not doing what I promised to do. I am usually a man of my word, and I came to assure you that I will do better in the future.”
“Thank you,” she muttered softly. She looked into his gray eyes that were staring intently at her and decided to offer a suggestion. “The reason it vexes me so fully is because it seems like such a simple solution. If you would like, I could go with you to Bond Street today. I’m sure Aunt Miranda wouldn’t mind an outing.”
“Where are you ladies off to now?”
Gillian turned to see her father entering the room. She hurriedly set the vase of flowers down on a side table and scurried to her father’s side. “Oh father, I wasn’t expecting you home, but I am so glad that you are. I’d like to introduce you to the Earl of Danford.”
Lord Danford walked forward and bowed before the duke. “Pleased to meet you, your grace.”
“Likewise,” her father replied. “I have to apologize, for my wife was in the midst of planning a dinner party so I could have the pleasure of meeting your acquaintance before she was summoned to her sister’s side.”
Gillian knew that Lord Danford was aware that what her father was saying was a lie, but was grateful when he pretended as if her father’s excuse was perfectly acceptable. “I am sorry to hear of your wife’s departure and of her sister’s illness. I hope she experiences a speedy recovery and that her grace can return to London posthaste.”
“Thank you. In the meantime, why don’t you join us for dinner tonight? It will be a rather informal family affair, but if you do not mind, I would very much desire to further our acquaintance.”
“I would be honored, your grace. Now, I hope you do not find me rude, but I have a few matters of business to attend to before this evening and better be on my way.”
Lord Danford bowed then made to show himself out. Gillian followed him into the entryway. “Lord Danford, I must ask, is perhaps one of those matters of business to visit a tailor?”
He smiled as he reached forth and tweaked her nose. “I am afraid not, my love, but soon enough.”
“Oh drat!” she exclaimed with annoyance, her lovely face twisting into a scowl. “Just try to pick the least horrendous outfit you can manage for tonight then.”
“But your mother won’t be present,” he pointed out.
“No, but my sister Phoebe will since she arrived with Aunt Miranda. She is a miniature duplicate of my mother in some regards.”
Lord Danford sighed. “I will try my best.”
***
Benedict walked into his study and nearly jumped a foot off the floor when he realized that Marcus, Griffin, and Warren were waiting for him, partaking of his fine brandy no less. “Who in the devil let you in here?” he asked angrily.
“Does it matter?” Griffin asked, pouring himself another generous measure of brandy.
Benedict walked over and snatched the decanter from his hands. “I will have to speak to my butler about letting such commonplace filth into my personal space without my consent.”
“Your insults are not going to save you,” Marcus said flippantly.
“What do you mean?”
Warren sat on the edge of Benedict’s desk. “We came to celebrate an early victory and to pen the letter we are going to give to your mother.”
Benedict looked frantically at the desk in front of him, grabbing several sheets of parchment and inspecting them to see what, if anything had been written on them. He was relieved to see that so far, all of them remained blank. Glaring irritatedly at his friends, he threw the papers down on the desk and said with confidence, “I hate to int
errupt your celebrations, but victory will not be yours.”
Griffin brushed several loose papers aside and leaned forward on the desk. “After what we heard last night, I wouldn’t be so sure. You do know that if you wear anything besides the clothing we have given you, you automatically lose, don’t you?”
“Of course I know, and I have been extremely meticulous in following the rules. I told Gillian that I would visit a tailor only to placate her until after we are wed.”
Marcus snorted. “After you are wed? Are you meaning to tell me that your relationship with Lady Gillian has progressed to the level that allows a discussion of matrimony?”
Benedict gave a self-satisfied smile. “Indeed it has.”
“I’ll be damned,” Marcus retorted, his face registering his disbelief.
“Has her father truly given you permission?” Warren asked, just as in shock as Marcus.
“Not yet, but I believe he will before long.”
“Give me that brandy,” Griffin barked as he finished off the remainder of brandy that was in his sifter and held out his hand towards Benedict.
“Not happening,” Benedict said as he walked over to the sideboard and replaced the brandy. Once he had the liquor safely locked out of Griffin’s sight, he turned to his friend and said, “Not so confident in your victory anymore, are you?”
Griffin scowled. “You do remember that the bet is not won until you are engaged, correct?”
“Yes, Griffin, I do remember the terms of the bet very clearly. And as soon as I secure her father’s permission, the bann’s will be placed and our engagement announced.” The longer his friends were there, the more irritated Benedict got.
“You mean to tell us that Lady Gillian is a willing participant in all of this?”
Benedict looked at Warren strangely. “Of course she is.”
“But is she in love with you?” Marcus quipped.
Benedict paused long enough for Griffin to take the bait and attack. “She isn’t in love with you, is she?”
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