“Are you absolutely certain it was Lady Adel with whom he had been conversing?”
“Positive, my love. I strolled by the open doors shortly after he disappeared to see for myself. She was the only one out there.”
“But I’m not entirely certain that the idea of a marriage to Lord Straton will be pleasing to Lady Adel.”
Benedict reached for her hand, rubbing slow circles on her delicate palm in an attempt to assure her of his choice. “My darling, do you not remember that she finds him to be handsome?”
Gillian let her mind wander back to the conversation months ago where Lady Adel had indeed proclaimed Lord Straton to be handsome, albeit insufferable. “But finding his appearance pleasing is not the same as being in love.”
“No, but it is a start. I see the way that Griffin looks at her, and it reminds me very much of the way you look at me.”
“Oh?” she questioned, one eyebrow raised in a delicate arch. “How is that?”
“Like you want to devour me,” he purred lowly so the servants wouldn’t overhear him.
Gillian’s eyes snapped up to his, as a devilish grin splayed across his face. “I daresay that is how you are looking at me right now,” she countered.
Benedict didn’t bother arguing with her; instead he pushed back from the table and made to stand. “Perhaps this conversation can be discussed later. I suddenly recall some important business I need to attend to in our chambers.”
Even after several weeks of marriage, her husband’s boldness could still make her blush. She ducked her head to her chest as a heated blush stole over her cheeks. “As you wish.”
Benedict chuckled lowly as he helped her from her chair. “What a sweet, obedient wife you are,” to which she promptly laughed, for they both new it wasn’t entirely true.
Quite some time later, they found themselves in Benedict’s study, Gillian sitting across the large mahogany desk from her husband, watching as he pulled a sheet of parchment from a drawer. He reached for his quill and drew a line down the middle, the entire length of the page. In one column he wrote Griffin, Warren, and Marcus before turning his eyes up to Gillian and saying, “I feel much refreshed after our vigorous morning exercise. We should consider making that a part of our morning routine.”
Gillian laughed, “We already have. Now try to focus on the task at hand. You are insistent that Lord Straton be paired with Lady Adel, but what about Lord Dawkins and Mr. Graham?”
“I’ve already figured out Warren’s pairing; it’s Marcus I am drawing a blank on.”
Gillian’s eyes widened with annoyance. “You have already chosen a wife for Lord Dawkins without consulting with me first?”
“Don’t look so offended, my love. I didn’t precisely choose his bride. I simply owed someone a favor. My hands are tied.”
“What are you speaking of?” she asked, perplexed.
Benedict sighed. “I enlisted the help of Miss Graham, Marcus’s younger sister, in my attempts to woo you. She agreed to help me make you jealous, in exchange for my help in securing Warren’s affections. ‘Twould seem that she’s had a tendre for the fool for some time now. So you see.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It would seem that I must make good on my word.”
Gillian was silent for a moment, thinking over what he had just revealed. Finally she spoke, “So Miss Graham was in on your little scheme to make me jealous? Hmmm…I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“It was just a means to an end, my love. And, it was highly effective.”
“Perhaps, if not a bit underhanded.”
“I was not above doing whatever it took to secure your affections.”
“So you could win that blasted bet,” she stated irritably.
Benedict reached for her hand. “No, so I could win your heart. I had already lost mine to you completely and wished only to have you return my feelings. Now, wipe that scowl off of your pretty face and let’s get back to the task at hand.”
“Very well,” she said with a slight huff, before focusing once more on the paper sitting on the desk before them. “But Mr. Graham will be furious,” she stated simply but surely.
“Yes, I presume he will be. I’m hoping to hold off on that announcement for a while longer. It will be best if I broach that pairing with sensitivity and understanding. I’m not exactly sure Warren will be pleased either.”
“Oh, I do not wish to see either one of them miserable. Maybe you should reconsider your word to Miss Graham.”
Benedict shook his head. “I cannot do that after she was so helpful to me. It wouldn’t be right; my word is my honor. We will just have to hope for the best. Besides, a little misery would do Warren some good after what he put me through.”
“You are far from miserable now, my husband,” she said with a sultry wink, bringing his mind back to their recent lovemaking.
“Far, far from miserable,” he readily agreed. “But though I do not wish for any of them to remain in misery for the rest of their lives, a little pain in the process would do them all some good. This is my chance for revenge, remember?”
Gillian nodded and watched as he wrote Lady Adel next to Griffin’s name and Miss Graham next to Warren’s. “Very well, I will just have to trust you. What about Mr. Graham? Have you any lady in mind for him?”
“Not a one. You?”
“Not exactly but I haven’t thought much on it until now.”
Benedict folded the piece of paper, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket. “This will do for now.” Then, rising from his desk he said, “I think I will pay a visit to Griffin and inform him of the glorious news. I would hate for him to loose anymore sleep over it.”
“Best of luck,” Gillian called out to him as she watched his broad shoulders retreat from the study.
***
Griffin groaned as he pulled Lady Adel’s lush body flush with his. The sleeve of her silk gown slid seductively down her arm, exposing one pearly shoulder. Griffin’s mouth went dry as he collapsed down on the edge of his bed, never breaking eye contact with the alluring minx before him. She stood before him looking passionate and willing, and he wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass him by. He searched her eyes once more, and when he saw no hesitation in them, he quickly leaned forward and placed his warm lips to the cool, exposed skin.
Looking up at her through thick lashes, his lips still pressed to her shoulder, he saw that her eyes were closed and her head was thrust back, revealing a creamy expanse of neck that looked too tempting to ignore. Griffin wound his arms around her waist and pulled her down into his lap as he scattered kisses gently up the long column of her neck.
She lifted her arms and thrust her hands into his hair, causing a tingling sensation to scatter down his spine. He groaned once more as he pulled her on top of him, feeling the rich silk of her gown glide over his bare legs enticingly.
His bare legs? Griffin felt a sliver of confusion settle into his mind. His legs weren’t bare, at least not yet.
The fog of desire that had enshrouded his brain began to lift as he slowly peeled his eyes open. It took him a moment to realize that although he was indeed in his bed, he was completely and utterly alone. What he had thought was Lady Adel’s silk gown rubbing against his legs was nothing more than his own silk sheets.
It had all been a dream.
A deliciously wicked dream that had been cut far too short.
Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to will himself to fall back asleep and continue the dream where he had left off, but a maddening knock on his door made it impossible. Cursing, Griffin rose and marched to the door, pulling it wide open, an angry scowl on his face.
“My lord, you have a visitor.” His butler’s stoic face betrayed no surprise at seeing Griffin standing before him completely naked, for which Griffin was grateful.
“Who is it?” he snarled.
“Lord Danford, my lord.”
“I will be down shortly,” Griffin said, as he slammed his door rudely in the butler’s face
, then proceeded to ring the bell pull that would alert his valet that he was in need of his service.
Nearly an hour had passed before Griffin was dressed and standing in the parlor of his townhouse, greeting Benedict in clipped tones, not feeling the least bit guilty for having made him wait so long. He was still angry that his dream had been interrupted.
As he walked into the parlor, Benedict gave him an irritated look. “I was beginning to think you went back to sleep.”
“Oh, how I wished it were so,” Griffin grumbled, sincerely meaning it. “My dreams hold far more appeal than a visit from you.”
“No doubt, though I thought you’d be somewhat pleased with my visit seeing as how you have been so eager to find out the name of your future wife.”
At the mention of his future wife, Griffin perked up, if only slightly. He tried to read the look on Benedict’s face, hoping it would give away any sort of hint as to what was coming. The only expression he could read was pleasure, and he wasn’t sure if it was due to his choice of wife for him or his delight at submitting Griffin to such torture. Perhaps both.
“Well do not keep me in suspense any longer,” he said dryly, as he leaned casually back on the settee.
Benedict wasted no time with flowery explanations or lame apologies, “I have chosen Lady Adel Desmond to be your bride.”
Griffin shot out of his seat and paced quickly to the large picture window facing the street, his back to Benedict in hopes of hiding the heat he felt creeping into his face at the mention of Lady Adel’s name, invoking his all too recent dream involving the woman. Several deep breaths helped him regain his composure before he turned around and faced Benedict. “I cannot wed her,” he said flatly, the mask of indifference once more resting upon his face.
“Oh, but you have no choice,” Benedict said through a wicked smile, thoroughly enjoying Griffin’s discomfort, no doubt.
“She will never agree to the notion. I vex her to no end, and I am afraid the feeling is mutual. No, it simply won’t do. Pick another lady, any other lady besides her.”
Benedict leaned forward, placing his forearms on his thighs. “Do you hear what you are saying? Do you truly wish me to pick another? I suppose that perhaps you’d be more interested in wedding Miss Jones instead?”
“Miss Jones?” Griffin asked quizzically, not able to recall exactly who this Miss Jones was to whom Benedict was referring.
“Yes, Miss Jones, the lady my wife was conversing with at the ball last night. The lady you took an inordinate amount of interest in. I’m sure she would be pleased to be pursued by such a prize as yourself.”
Griffin groaned, thinking of the unattractive spinster. No, he certainly did not want to be wed to her either.
“Well, what say you man? Would you rather marry Lady Adel or Miss Jones?”
“How kind of you to give me a choice,” Griffin spat out sarcastically.
“What can I say? I’m feeling generous, I suppose.”
The room fell silent as Griffin contemplated his choice. Truly it wasn’t much of a choice, seeing as how there was no way he could ever consider being romantic with Miss Jones. With Lady Adel that was different at least, but though he might be able to entertain thoughts of bedding her, wedding her was an entirely different matter altogether. That was simply asking too much.
There was no doubt in his mind that he was attracted to Lady Adel, for this morning’s dream proved just that, but though he found her physically alluring, her personality left much to be desired. She was stubborn and independent and had made it clear on more than one occasion that his attempts to help protect her from unwanted suitors was not welcomed or appreciated. How could he marry someone who couldn’t appreciate his wisdom, someone who wouldn’t submit easily to his council? Why couldn’t Benedict have chosen a sweet and biddable woman to be his wife?
He hadn’t realized that he posed that last question aloud until Benedict responded with a loud guffaw. “Because, my friend, a sweet and biddable wife would have her spirit crushed under the enormity of your vanity and pride. There is not a sweet and biddable woman alive that I would wish that upon. No, your strong personality needs an equally strong woman to contend with it. I think Lady Adel will be an exemplary match for you.”
“You don’t even know her,” Griffin countered.
“Indeed I do not, but from what I have seen, I like her immensely. I am retracting my earlier offer of giving you a choice—Lady Adel it will be.”
Griffin groaned as he thrust his head into his hands and stared at the Oriental rug beneath his feet. “What are the conditions of the bet?” he grumbled.
“This isn’t a bet, so the conditions are limited. I know you will do the honorable thing, so I have no need to threaten or blackmail you.”
Griffin inwardly cringed at the mention of blackmail, for he still felt guilty for using the knowledge of Benedict’s father’s bastard child as blackmail in order to get him to satisfy the conditions of the wager he himself had issued.
Benedict continued, “My only condition is that you are engaged by the end of the season. And, seeing as how that is just around the corner, I suggest you make haste.”
Benedict rose from his chair and made to leave, pausing just long enough to pat the top of Griffin’s head and say, “I wish you the best of luck.”
I don’t need luck, Griffin thought as he listened to Benedict’s retreating footsteps. I need a blasted miracle. For surely that was the only way he’d ever get Lady Adel to agree to become his bride.
Chapter 3
Adel’s eyes fluttered open as a sliver of early morning sunlight danced across her face. Reaching her hands high above her head, she stretched before throwing her legs over the edge of the bed and rising. Walking over to the window, she parted the thick curtains with one hand and glanced at the abandoned street below. It was far too early for anyone to be up and about, but Adel had become quite fond of the early morning hours when everything in her world seemed peaceful, where she wasn’t expected to keep up a cheery pretense for anyone, where she could simply be herself.
Slipping quietly from her room, she pulled her wrapper tightly around her cotton nightdress and tiptoed down the hall passing two closed doors until she soundlessly came to a halt in front of the third one. Adel let herself inside, knowing that the chances were high that she’d find her sister Katherine already awake. Neither of them had been able to sleep well since their mother’s passing.
It didn’t take long for her eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room, settling upon Katherine who was sitting at her dressing table, looking forlornly into the small looking glass that rested above the table. Adel glided across the room in silence and picked up the ivory-backed hairbrush that was sitting on the table. Katherine didn’t startle in the least when she noticed Adel had slid behind her and begun brushing her hair in long, comforting strokes. It had become a near daily ritual for the pair, and Adel sensed that Katherine had been waiting for her.
Katherine’s kind eyes found Adel’s in the looking glass. “Couldn’t sleep?” she asked softly.
“Not any more than I have to in order to survive.”
“Are the nightmares still occurring?”
Adel shrugged her shoulders in an attempt to appear casual and unconcerned, in an effort to not worry her sister. “Periodically. Though it has been awhile since the last one, thankfully.”
Katherine reached up and took the brush from Adel’s hand, setting it softly on the table. “Well, I will continue to pray that the bad dreams do not return. I do so hate seeing the dark smudges marring your delicate skin.”
Adel brushed her fingers gently underneath her eyes, as if she could erase the effects of her poor sleep from her face, though she knew it would be futile. She felt her bottom lip quiver, while in an unguarded moment between the sisters, she shakily admitted, “I just wish that we could go back in time, before mama left us.” She still couldn’t bring herself to say the word died out loud.
Katherine ros
e from her seat and flung her arms around Adel’s neck, somehow managing to make Adel feel childlike, though her sister was much smaller than she. A painful lump formed in Adel’s throat that made swallowing hard. She pinched her lips together in an effort to hold her emotions at bay. But, though she was successful at keeping the sobs from escaping her throat, she wasn’t able to keep the warm, salty tears prisoners in her eyes any longer.
One by one the tears coursed down her face, trailing off into her unbound hair. Her body shook silently as she cried, Katherine’s hand rubbing her back in much the same way her mother used to do when comforting her when she was upset. The small reminder of her mother only made her cry harder.
Pulling herself abruptly from Katherine’s arms, she clenched her fists at her side and sobbed. “This isn’t how I imagined my first season would be. I was supposed to be enjoying myself, with nary a lick of concern for anything other than what I would wear or whom I would flirt with. Instead, I find I can hardly think of anything but mother, and my resentment grows stronger by the day. She was supposed to be the one who presented me to the Queen. It is her whom I wish to converse with on our way back from our nightly entertainments, ruminating about which gentleman we preferred to dance with and the latest on dits of the ton, but instead we are trapped inside of our carriage listening to the grating sound of Aunt Tabitha’s snoring. It isn’t fair, Katherine, I want her back.”
“I do too,” Katherine muttered in such a sad voice that it made Adel begin sobbing once more.
Unable to bear her sister’s sadness any longer, Katherine grabbed her wrist and led her to sit on her unmade bed. Pulling her legs up beneath her, she tenderly brushed a damp tendril of Adel’s hair behind her ear. “I think I know what you need.”
“What do I need?” Adel asked sadly as she wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her wrapper.
“You need a dashing gentleman to sweep you off of your feet and distract you from your pain.”
Adel laughed despite her sadness. “Like a hero in some fairy tale? Someone who will come and rescue me from my tower of gloom?”
Unconventional Suitors 02 - Her Unconventional Hero Page 2