“I believe she is,” Benedict answered lamely.
“You believe she is?” Warren laughed. “A mere belief is not enough to win the bet. You not only have to get Lady Gillian to agree to wed you, you have to get her to fall in love with you as well. Remember?”
Benedict exhaled slowly. How was he supposed to refute that? Lady Gillian had never admitted her love for him, not even when he professed his love for her. But surely she did love him, right? Why else would she agree to wed him, an unfashionable suitor, if it wasn’t for love? Doubts started filling his once confident mind, making him unsure of where he stood with Lady Gillian after all.
“I take your silence to mean that you have failed to get Lady Gillian to fall in love with you,” Griffin pointed out with glee.
Benedict glowered at him. “She may not have admitted that she loves me yet, but I have until the end of the season, do I not? There is still time.”
“You are correct, there is time for you to convince her she is in love with you, but that also means that there is time for us to convince her otherwise. Isn’t Lord Evander besotted with the girl?”
“Leave Lord Evander out of this,” Benedict snarled.
“I don’t think so,” Griffin said as he smiled devilishly. “You know what they say—all is fair in love and war.”
“Get out,” Benedict demanded angrily. “All of you.” The three friends laughed at his ire.
“You are no fun since you’ve returned to London,” Marcus complained as he rose.
“Not since you issued your stupid bet. But I can assure you that once I have won, I will have copious amounts of fun taunting you as I select your brides. Or have you forgotten about that little stipulation?”
“If you think that I am going to sit back and let you decide who I will wed, you are more foolish than I thought,” Griffin spat angrily.
“Well, you did agree to the terms.”
Griffin turned his scorching gaze on Benedict and he wanted to laugh. “Are you afraid that I will pick Lady Adel? Or perhaps you are more concerned that I won’t.”
Griffin lunged for him, but Benedict stepped out of his way, causing Griffin’s fist to meet with the wall instead of his person. “I can’t have any of that, for it wouldn’t do to be sporting a bruise when I show up to Lady Gillian’s for dinner this evening. I have a feeling that tonight will be the night that the Duke of Chesley grants me permission to wed his daughter.”
But though he sounded confident to his own ears, as soon as his friends had left, his false confidence all but evaporated. He needed to try and get an admission of love from Lady Gillian posthaste. And not just for the sake of the bet, but because his own heart needed the reassurance.
Chapter 18
It was hard for Benedict to feel confident as he headed to dinner with the Duke of Chesley when he was dressed in ill-fitting clothing, though he had managed to dress somewhat more conservatively than he had been as of late. He hoped his tamed attire would please Lady Gillian.
He took a deep breath as he approached the Bourne’s townhouse, then proceeded to bang the brass knocker against the door. When the butler answered, he was let in immediately and shown to the drawing room where he was instructed to wait for the family to join him. Benedict’s nerves were on edge as he waited, so many emotions going through his head. He was desperately hoping to seek the duke’s permission to wed Lady Gillian this evening, but more than he wished for her father’s permission, he wished for her love.
Benedict thought back through the few short weeks he had known her and admitted that he had unexpectedly fallen hard and fast for the girl. Right from the beginning he had been taken in with her beauty and had considered himself lucky that his friends had chosen such a tempting armful as the object of their bet. But as he got to know Lady Gillian, he soon realized that there was more to her than merely an attractive face. She was honest and bold, caring and thoughtful, and miraculously, she never seemed overly concerned with his abhorrent clothing.
But if truth be told, Benedict had fallen hopelessly in love with her the first time he had kissed her. He had kissed his fair share of women in the past, ranging from innocent and naïve debutantes to experienced and confidant Cyprians, but not a one of them had elicited the passion and protectiveness that kissing Lady Gillian had done. The minute his lips had met hers it was as if he had come home, and oddly enough, it was the first time since his return to London that he had felt as if that were true. He knew now that home would be wherever she was, whether that was here in London or traveling abroad. As long as she was by his side, he would always feel complete.
When the duke entered the library with Lady Gillian and a younger girl he presumed to be her sister, Benedict only had eyes for his love. She was dressed in a sage green gown with a delicate lace overlay. Her hair was swept up into an elegant style with a thick band of lace tied around her head. She looked beautiful.
“Is he deaf as well as unfashionable?” an obnoxious voice penetrated the fog that was surrounding his brain. Benedict shook his head and focused on the girl at Lady Gillian’s side.
“Hush, Phoebe, do not be rude. You do not have to put voice to every thought that strolls through your head.”
“You are beginning to sound exactly like mother!” the girl called Phoebe exclaimed with disgust.
Benedict stepped forward and bowed before the girls. As he rose, he turned towards the duke. “Good evening, your grace.”
“Good evening to you, Lord Danford. We are delighted to have you join us for dinner tonight, but first, let me introduce you to my youngest daughter, Lady Phoebe.”
Benedict took the girls hand in his and kissed the air above her knuckles. “My sister told me that you have spent the last two years traveling abroad. I was trying to ask you which country was your favorite when we first entered, but you must have failed to hear me.”
Thankfully, Lady Gillian stepped forward and hooked her arm through his. “Oh do stop pestering Lord Danford, Phoebe. It was obvious he was preoccupied.”
“Yes, but with what?”
“I was preoccupied with what a vision your sister is, Lady Phoebe.”
Lady Phoebe giggled, “You’re as outrageous as Lord Evander said you would be.”
Benedict failed to see how his remark could be considered outrageous, but what concerned him even more was the fact that Lord Evander had had occasion to speak with Lady Phoebe. Had he come calling on Lady Gillian and had the opportunity to meet her little sister as well? The thought made him nervous and envious all at once.
He was just about to inquire about Lord Evander when a servant entered and instructed them to move to the dining room. Benedict and Lady Gillian followed the duke and Lady Phoebe into the room that was lit up with dozens of flickering candles. He assisted Lady Gillian into her chair before taking his seat across from her.
The first course of white soup was eaten mostly in silence, but when the duke began carving the leg of lamb that the servants had brought in, he also began firing off questions Benedict’s way. “How long were you out of the country?”
“Two years, your grace.”
“Why so long? Did your father not wish for his only son and heir to be home learning how to run the estate?”
This question was a little bit trickier than the first. Benedict was thoughtful for several seconds before responding, “I suppose he did, though I was young and restless and wished to see the world before settling into my duties. My father always humored me in my ambitions. I don’t think that either of us expected him to pass on at such a young age. Had I had any inkling that would be the case, I would never have left England.”
“Is that true?” the duke asked, his brown eyes piercing through him. Benedict felt like he was being interrogated.
“Of course it is true. Had I known that my father had less than two years to live, I would have opted to stay home and would have spent all of my free time by his side. My father and I got along quite well, and he was an excellent earl
. Heaven knows I could have used the time to learn from him.”
The duke looked at him as if he was pondering whether he was being sincere or not. It left him feeling deuced uncomfortable.
“Oh father, please do stop questioning Lord Danford so; you are monopolizing all of his attention,” Lady Phoebe whined, and though Benedict was grateful to have the duke cease questioning him, he wasn’t sure he was ready for her to begin.
She turned to him immediately. “So, Lord Danford, I wish to hear all about your bachelor friends. But please, do not bother telling me about them unless they are full of juice and exceptionally handsome.”
Benedict’s eyes widened. Was she serious? He could clearly see why her father and mother thought it wise to keep her away from London for as long as possible. They were going to have their hands full when she had her coming out next year.
“Phoebe,” Lady Gillian scolded, “Lord Danford’s friends are entirely too old for you. They would not be interested in a girl still in the schoolroom and one with a bold tongue, no less.”
Benedict watched with amusement as Lady Phoebe stiffened her shoulders and glared at her sister. “If that is so, then pray tell how you were able to get so many suitors vying for your attention?”
“Well for starters, I am no longer in the schoolroom. I have had my coming out already.”
“And your bold tongue?” Lady Phoebe pried.
Benedict could see that Lady Gillian was getting flustered by her vexing sister so he decided to come to her aid. “I find her boldness quite refreshing.” Lady Phoebe smiled victoriously. “But only because she doesn’t use it to intentionally vex others.” Lady Phoebe’s face fell as Lady Gillian gave him a grateful smile.
“Well said, Lord Danford,” the duke complimented him with a smile and the remainder of the dinner went by much more comfortably.
When dinner was finished, the duke invited Benedict to his study for port and cigars. Benedict had never been so nervous in his entire life than he was as he walked into the wood paneled room. Benedict refused the cigar, but gladly accepted the snifter of port as he sat across the desk from the duke.
“Now that the ladies are gone, is there something you wish to ask me?” the duke asked as he lit the cigar that was dangling from his lips.
Benedict swallowed loudly. There was nothing quite like being put on the spot. “Actually there is. I would like to ask you for your permission to wed your daughter.”
“Which one? Gillian or Phoebe?”
In his nervousness, Benedict failed to notice the duke was attempting to be humorous. “Both of your daughters are lovely, but it is Lady Gillian’s hand that I seek.”
The duke guffawed. “But of course it is. You must relax, for I was only jesting.”
Benedict exhaled. How was he supposed to relax when speaking to the woman he loves father about marrying her? It just wasn’t to be done. He took another drink of his port hoping the liquor would help.
“In following with both of my daughter’s proclivity for boldness, may I ask why I should allow you to wed my Gillian?”
Benedict looked at the duke as if he had sprouted a second head. His palms began to sweat as he contemplated telling the man that he was in love with his daughter. It was one thing to admit it to himself and to her, but another thing entirely to admit it to her father.
“Well, have you nothing to say?” the duke asked with an admirable amount of patience.
“I am unsure of where to start, your grace,” Benedict answered honestly.
“You can start by telling me the truth about your feelings for Gillian.”
“Very well,” Benedict sighed. “I will start by telling you that I am in love with your daughter.” Benedict stiffened as if he were waiting for the duke to draw his sword and attack, but the duke did no such thing, much to his relief.
“I thought that might be the case. And is she in love with you?”
Why did he have to ask that? “I am not entirely sure. Perhaps she has enlightened you on the subject?” he asked hopefully.
The duke shook his head and laughed. “She hasn’t been so bold in her admissions, though I find that highly unusual for her. But I will admit that I think she carries far greater feelings for you than she does for her other suitor.”
“Her other suitor?” Benedict stammered as he set his port down on the desk.
“Yes. Lord Evander was here this afternoon seeking her hand in marriage.”
Benedict’s pulse quickened in alarm. It was no surprise that Lord Evander was interested in Lady Gillian, but he had a sinking suspicion it was his friends that had put him up to the task. If the duke revealed that he gave Lord Evander permission to wed Lady Gillian, Benedict was positive he’d kill each one of his sorry friends with his bare hands, starting first with Griffin.
His fists clamped together in barely contained fury as he waited for the duke to continue. When it became apparent that no further information would be forthcoming, Benedict snapped, “Well, what did you tell him?”
The duke puffed long and hard on his cigar, seeming to enjoy Benedict’s discomfort, before he finally set it down and answered, “I told him that he was too late, that she had already been spoken for.” Benedict was speechless. “Well, you are not going to make a liar out of me, are you?”
Benedict didn’t know what to say, but he knew that he had to say something or risk continuing to appear the fool. “Are you meaning to imply that you are giving me permission to wed your daughter, your grace?”
“If you promise me that you will strive to keep her as happy as she is now for the rest of her life, then yes, I am granting my permission.”
Benedict’s heart soared. He sprang up from his chair and reached across the desk to shake the duke’s hand. In his over exuberance, he knocked his snifter to the ground, and as he was stumbling to reach for it, he heard the undeniable sound of fabric ripping. He straightened in alarm as he stared at the duke with wide eyes.
His future father-in-law’s eyes sparkled with mirth. Pointing to his shoulder he said, “It was your shoulder seam that ripped. Be thankful that it was not your breeches.” Benedict nodded in agreement, though he didn’t experience much relief, as he replaced the snifter once more on the desk and reached for the duke’s hand.
The duke sealed his word with a firm handshake, and as Benedict turned to leave, he called out, “Lord Danford, I recommend that you see to your wardrobe immediately.”
Benedict grimaced. “Yes, I will do that,” he answered honestly, knowing that all he needed now was for Lady Gillian to admit her love for him and the bet would be won and he could cease the farce at once.
His step was light as he made his way to the drawing room, anxious to speak with Lady Gillian and tell her that her father had granted them permission to wed. He hoped that Lady Phoebe wouldn’t be around so he could pull her into his arms as he told her the good news and perhaps steal one of her addicting kisses.
Disappointment filled his breast as he rounded the corner and heard several voices—Lady Gillian was not alone. Several pairs of eyes turned to look at him as he entered. Lady Gillian, Lady Phoebe, and their Aunt Miranda ceased speaking and looked at him expectantly.
When he didn’t say anything, Lady Gillian scurried to his side. “My lord, have you seen my little brother anywhere? Aunt Miranda seems to have misplaced him.”
“I did not misplace him,” Aunt Miranda said irritatedly. “He ran away from me.”
Benedict looked into Gillian’s worried face. How he wished he could gather her into his arms and tell her the good news, but instead he was forced to answer her questions about her troublesome little brother. “No, I have not seen him, nor would I know him if I had. You forget I have never seen the child.”
“I have looked everywhere upstairs for him and am convinced he is not there. Do you think he would have disappeared outside?” Aunt Miranda asked with worry.
“Oh, I sure hope not, but perhaps we should break up and begin searching fo
r him,” Lady Gillian suggested.
“Good idea,” added Benedict. “Lady Gillian and Aunt Miranda, continue your search of the house, since you are more familiar with the layout than I, while Lady Phoebe goes downstairs and makes her inquiries to the servants. I will go outside and begin my search for the lad.”
All three ladies heads dipped into a nod as they took off in different directions in a flurry of activity, surprising Benedict somewhat with their quick obedience, leaving him no choice but to follow suit. He raced outside and began searching for the boy. He searched through the shrubbery in front of the townhouse anxiously but without success. When a cursory glance of the lawn did not produce anything, he jogged to the edge of the townhouse and looked around the side. The lamplighters had already been by to light the streetlamps, leaving the street awash in soft golden light making it easy for Benedict to see that there was no child playing in the streets.
He turned back to the house and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. This was not how he envisioned spending his evening. He was supposed to be speaking with Lady Gillian right now and sharing his good news, not spending his time in search of her pest of a brother. To be fair, Benedict couldn’t rightfully label him a pest since he had never even met the boy, but in that moment that is exactly what the child was to him.
“What are you looking for, sir?” a tiny voice in the dark startled him.
Benedict shook his head and squinted at the young boy whom he was certain had not been their just minutes ago. “I’m looking for the Duke of Chesley’s son. That wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”
The boy smiled proudly and there was something oddly familiar about the dimple that appeared high up on his cheek. Benedict wracked his brain, trying to think if Lady Gillian or any of the other Bourne’s had that dimple, but he was certain that none of them did. He forced the senseless thoughts from his mind and asked impatiently, “Well are you or aren’t you the duke’s son?”
The boy stuck out his hand for Benedict to shake, “Indeed I am. The name is Anthony Bourne. Pleased to meet you. Who are you?”
Unconventional Suitors 01 - Her Unconventional Suitor Page 14