Unconventional Suitors 02 - Her Unconventional Hero

by Ginny Hartman

  “And if I do not?”

  “You would do well not to try my patience any further.”

  “That sounds like a challenge.”

  “I assure you, my lord, it is not. Please, just tell me her name.”

  Lord Straton stared at her as if he were weighing whether or not he should tell her in his mind. She felt as if her already-worn patience was about to vanish completely when he finally said, “Her name is Lady Grace.”

  Adel couldn’t contain the smile that spread across her face. “Thank you,” she replied as she turned to leave.

  “Wait,” Lord Straton called after her. “Why do you want to know her name?”

  “I was curious was all,” she vaguely replied.

  “Curious about your perceived competition?”

  Adel turned once more to face him, the glee she felt at learning the mystery woman’s name evaporating as quickly as it had come. “Why do you insist on constantly goading me? You are the most irritating man I have ever met.”

  Deciding she would not wait around for an answer, Adel turned on her heel and fled, for no explanation he could give her would satisfy.

  Chapter 6

  Griffin sat in a comfortable leather chair in Benedict’s study, one booted foot propped up on his thigh, as he reclined casually. Benedict was sitting behind his desk, several of the day’s papers stacked before him.

  “Have you come to share the announcement of your engagement with me?” Benedict inquired, his eyes scanning the paper in front of him.

  “On the contrary. I came to tell you that Lady Adel refused my pursuit.”

  Benedict looked at him over the paper, “That is not news-worthy, for she has been refusing your pursuit all season long.”

  Griffin bristled. “I have not been pursuing her the entire season.” Benedict gave him a disbelieving look. “I asked her to wed me the other evening, and she boldly told me she would not. I came to tell you that you must pick another lady for me to wed.”

  Laying the papers aside, Benedict rose and retrieved a decanter of brandy and two glasses. He poured a measure into both, handing one to Griffin before leaning casually against the edge of his desk and saying, “I suggest you try harder.”

  “Blast it, man, I have tried. She is not interested in my affections.”

  “It’s only been a matter of days since you learned that you were to wed her. What have you done to woo her during that time?” Benedict watched as Griffin tugged nervously at his coat sleeves. “Tell me what you have done,” he urged.

  “I’ve danced with her,” Griffin answered lamely.

  “Oh, you have? Well, then I do not understand why she hasn’t fallen all over you and been eager to become your wife. Surely she must know that if a gentleman dances with her that means he wishes to wed her. Pshaw!” Benedict spat in disgust.

  “Look,” Griffin said as he leaned forward. “I’m not sure what else I can do. You do not wish me to write her a poem, do you?”

  Benedict thought back to the horrendous poem his friends had penned for him to deliver to Gillian and shuddered. “No, you must refrain from doing that, for surely that would only push her further away. What you need to do is show her your sensitive side.”

  Griffin snorted, “I do not have a sensitive side.”

  “Well you better develop one soon or it is quite possible that you may never convince her to marry you.”

  Griffin grumbled as he grabbed The Morning Post from the desk and snapped it open. “I cannot very well force her to marry me. How many times do I have to get rejected by her before you are convinced that we do not suit and agree to pick another lady to be my wife?”

  Benedict was thoughtful for a moment. “I would be willing to agree upon ten times.”

  “Ten times!” Griffin bellowed. “You take me for a fool if you think I would let myself be rejected ten times by the same woman. I will appear desperate.”

  “Aren’t you though?”

  Running one hand through his hair, he exhaled, “I rue the day I ever came up with that blasted bet.”

  “I felt that way once as well, but as soon as I learned how satisfying the reward was, I couldn’t help but be grateful that you issued the wager. Gillian’s love is the greatest prize I could ever have won. If you let your blasted guard down for even a second, you’d see that you need someone, that you need Lady Adel.”

  “That is where you are wrong. I do not need anyone, least of all a wife.”

  “Well then, how do you expect to produce that heir you will eventually need?”

  Griffin’s dark eyebrows went together in a scowl. Benedict had a point, but he wasn’t about to concede that to him. It was inevitable that his father, the Earl of Westingham would eventually pass on, leaving him the new earl, with the responsibility to provide an heir so that the title could remain in the family, but he didn’t like thinking about his future responsibilities, and he most definitely did not like thinking about his father.

  “I suggest you concentrate on producing your own heir,” he replied as he casually thumbed through the pages of The Morning Post until he found the scandal sheet. His eyes, of their own accord, began scanning the page, only semi-interested in the words that were printed.

  “Do not concern yourself with that, for I can assure you that much time and energy has indeed been given to the cause.”

  “Of course there has,” Griffin said with a wicked grin while an odd feeling of envy pierced him completely out of nowhere. He forced himself to concentrate even more on the words in front of him to avoid having to analyze the foreign emotion.

  His eyes settled upon the popular column by Mrs. Tiddlyswan and began reading part way down the page: Let it be known that Lady Grace has been blackmailing Lord Crestin for some time. Though it is unclear as to why, this author is intent on finding out.

  Griffin stopped reading. Lady Grace? His mind instantly went back to Lady Adel and her eagerness to learn the woman’s name. Could it be possible that she was the one who had reported this piece of damning information to Mrs. Tiddlyswan? Griffin was thoughtful for a moment before deciding that it had to be a coincidence, for surely she wouldn’t be so foolish as to involve herself in such scandal.

  He laid the paper in his lap when Benedict began speaking, trying to focus on his words. “You have probably heard by now that Marcus left for Brackingham Abbey?”

  “I had heard that he was considering the possibility. He’s hoping to buy himself some extra time before you choose his bride.”

  “Yes, that is part of it. I also think part of his reason was to go and try to convince his father to discourage Warren’s pursuit of Miss Graham. He’s furious that I chose his sister for Warren.”

  “I can’t say that I blame him. What were you thinking? You knew he’d be livid. And how do you expect Warren to feel about marrying someone who is practically a sister to him?”

  Benedict steepled his hands together, resting his chin on his fingers. “I don’t believe that Warren views her as merely a sister.”

  Griffin scoffed. “How could he not? He has known her since she was in the schoolroom, her hair still in braids. Besides, she is nearly eight years his junior.”

  “So is my wife, and Lady Adel is seven years your junior. Age is just a number, Griffin.”

  “Perhaps. I suppose I should be grateful that at the very least, you did not choose someone for me who is practically family.”

  “Precisely. You should be infinitely grateful. And I think that Marcus will come around eventually. When he sees how happy they will be together, he will have to admit that my matchmaking skills are superb.”

  “Do not count your chickens before they are hatched. You do not have any successes as of yet.”

  “Nor will I, if you plan on hanging around my study all day instead of calling on your intended.” Benedict’s eyes scanned the clock sitting on the mantel. “I suggest you go call on Lady Adel while you still have time.”

  Griffin rose from the chair, replacing
the paper on the desk. “If you insist.”

  “Oh, but I do.”

  Griffin chose to walk to Lady Adel’s townhouse at St. James’s Square, since it wasn’t far from Benedict’s own residence. He used the time alone to think about his predicament. He felt utterly foolish continuing his pursuit of the chit when she had clearly rejected him more than once.

  The minute the butler led him into the parlor decorated in shades of blue, he regretted showing up empty handed. Several bouquets of flowers decorated the room, indicating the amount of callers the two sisters had accepted so far. He wanted to kick himself for not being more thoughtful.

  He bowed before Aunt Tabitha and Lady Katherine before allowing his eyes to settle on Lady Adel. A sliver of sun filtered in from the window behind her, illuminating her auburn hair, making it appear a vibrant reddish hue. His eyes scanned her face and noticed that the dark smudges under her eyes had all but disappeared.

  He bowed before her and rose. “I take it you had your cook prepare you a posset?”

  “I might have,” she answered vaguely, seemingly uninterested in his visit.

  Griffin suddenly felt the inquiring eyes of Aunt Tabitha and Lady Katherine upon him, and he felt awkward. He wanted to speak to her about Mrs. Tiddlyswan’s gossip column and gauge her reaction, but he didn’t want to do that with an audience. Instead, he blurted out, “Would you like to go riding with me in Hyde Park?”

  “Right now?” she asked him, a curious look on her face.

  Griffin remembered that his carriage was still parked at Benedict’s and quickly replied, “I will come for you in a quarter of an hour.”

  Lady Adel glanced towards her aunt, her face unreadable. No doubt she was hoping that her aunt would refuse her permission, but thankfully, she did not.

  “You better send your maid to fetch your pelisse. I would hate for you to catch a chill,” Aunt Tabitha said by way of response.

  Lady Adel turned towards him hesitantly. “I will be ready soon.”

  Griffin said his goodbyes and left quickly. He knew he would have to walk swiftly if he wished to get back to Benedict’s and retrieve his carriage in time to not keep Lady Adel waiting. He desperately hoped that their ride would not lead to another uncomfortable encounter but that it could be pleasant for the both of them.

  By the time he returned to the Desmond’s townhouse, Lady Adel was waiting for him adorned in a blue and white striped pelisse with a fetching bonnet perched atop her head. He offered her his arm and led her to his carriage where he helped her alight before joining her on the seat.

  As soon as his driver had pulled away from the curb, he turned to her and said, “I spent some time scanning The Morning Post this morning,” then waited to observe her reaction. Her face remained impassive so he continued. “I don’t usually read the scandal sheets, but a certain name happened to catch my eye.”

  “Oh?” she inquired as calmly and unaffected as could be. “Who’s name would that be, my lord?”

  “Lady Grace,” he stated as he watched her shrewdly for any reaction at all. Her green eyes didn’t even blink. Her face betrayed no reaction whatsoever.

  After a moment, she turned to gaze out the side of the carriage. “I myself do not pay much heed to the scandal sheets. There is enough gossip being passed around London’s drawing rooms that I find I do not need to seek it out in the papers as well.”

  Griffin felt relief at her words, convinced that she had no part in the gossip printed about Lady Grace. Not that he had ever truly believed she would have done something so ludicrous, but it was good to be reassured nonetheless.

  ***

  Adel hadn’t realized that she had been holding her breath until she released it in a long, slow huff. She sincerely hoped that Lord Straton would not be able to tell how her heart was racing at his words. She had underestimated his astuteness. Perhaps he was more observant than she gave him credit for. She would have to be much more careful in the future when trying to obtain her information. She hoped he was convinced by her indifference to the conversation.

  She was infinitely relieved when he finally said, “I do not care much for gossip myself.”

  Giving him a shy smile she asked, if only to change the subject. “Tell me about your family, Lord Straton.”

  “My family?” he exhaled slowly as he casually reclined against the seat.

  “Yes, your family. I find myself somewhat curious about the man who insists on placing himself as my protector.”

  “I don’t view myself as your protector,” he said irritably.

  “Oh really? I thought your interest in me was purely as a protector of sorts, hoping to save me from the men who would only pursue me because of the generous dowry bestowed by my father.”

  “Why do you fault me for being concerned for your happiness?”

  Adel laughed sardonically. “I highly doubt your concern is for my happiness, my lord.”

  “Your high opinion of me is flattering. If you must know, my concern is genuine. My mother died as well, not too long ago, and I fear that as a result, my only sister suffered miserably because of it.”

  Adel was startled by his admission. Ignoring the reason for the conversation, she couldn’t help but ask, “Did you suffer as well?”

  Her eyes searched his face, hoping to see some real emotion instead of the mask of impassiveness he always wore. He refused to meet her eyes, turning his head to stare out the side of the carriage instead. Several moments passed by and Adel was afraid her bold question had offended him. She was just about to make her apologies when he turned back to her, settling dark eyes upon her.

  “No one could possibly understand how much I miss her.”

  Adel sucked in a sharp breath, the raw pain in his eyes taking her off guard. For a moment she felt as if their mutual pain had blended together, bonding them in a completely unexpected way. She found herself admitting her own sadness to him in a voice barely above a whisper. “It’s the worst sort of pain I’ve ever experienced. I keep waiting for it to diminish, hoping time will dull the heartache, but it never does.”

  “Sometimes it feels as if the pain is getting worse, not better. I thought that time was supposed to heal all things.”

  His completely rare and unexpected vulnerability caught Adel so off guard she was nearly speechless. She had to keep telling herself that this vulnerable man beside her was the same arrogant man who proposed to her several nights ago, without the least display of emotion and in the most unromantic of fashions.

  The sadness on his face was so foreign, so unexpected that Adel’s natural inclination was to reach for his hand and attempt to offer some comfort. Without even hesitating, she did just that, placing her gloved hand on top of his on the seat.

  Lord Straton’s eyes dropped to their hands as a slow smile spread across his face, masking the sadness and pain. “How forward of you, my lady.”

  Adel pulled back her hand as if she had been burned. How dare he take such an innocent gesture of comfort to mean anything more than what it was. Sliding across the seat, she put what distance she could between them, as her cheeks began to burn with anger and humiliation.

  “Now, now, do not get all prudish on me, for I was simply jesting.” When she refused to look at him, Lord Straton slid across the seat and closed the gap between them. Cupping her cheek in his hand, he gently pulled her gaze back to his. “Forgive me, my lady. I should not have ruined your polite gesture by my snide comment. Your concern is very touching.”

  Adel searched his eyes as she breathed in the scent of soap on his hands. His touch was making her face feel as if it was on fire, though the air outside was brisk. She shivered under his touch.

  “Are you cold?” he asked with genuine concern.

  She shook her head no then somehow managed to find her voice. “Why me?”

  Lord Straton startled slightly but he didn’t remove his hand from her face. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “There are plenty of ladies of the ton who have
lost their mother. Why aren’t you coming to their aide and trying to rescue them from unhappy marriages?”

  Adel regretted that her question caused him to withdraw, not only his hand from her face, but his emotions as well. She watched as his unguarded demeanor was replaced with the usual stoic mask he wore, and she suddenly felt sad.

  “I cannot answer that.”

  Chapter 7

  Griffin played Lady Adel’s question over and over in his mind. Though it had been several days since she had asked him why he felt the need to protect her and not any other motherless ladies of the ton, he still hadn’t been able to answer the question, at least not to his satisfaction, and it bothered him immensely. From the minute he had been introduced to her and learned that her mother had passed away, he had felt a protective urge well up within him. But why?

  He hated that he couldn’t easily explain his own actions, to himself nonetheless, let alone to her. She had asked a simple and honest question, and he hadn’t been able to give her any answer, none at all. It galled him to no end.

  Griffin surveyed the ballroom telling himself he was looking for his friends, when in all actuality he knew he was looking for her. Lady Adel and Lady Katherine had not been in attendance at the last three balls he had attended, and he was starting to worry that something might be wrong. Of course there was always the possibility that they had chosen to attend different balls or routs, but it concerned him regardless.

  A thrill shot through his heart when his eyes finally settled upon Lady Adel dancing with a man he did not know. She must have arrived when he was dancing that last set and had somehow missed her. It took everything in him to wait patiently while her dance finished so he could go claim her for the next set.

  The smile she bestowed upon him as he approached literally took his breath away. She was so beautiful. Her skin appeared radiant and her green eyes were sparkling delightfully. Her rich auburn hair was piled high on her head in a mass of never-ending curls, an ivory ribbon woven throughout. He let his eyes slide over her curvaceous body that was made for loving, and he felt himself growing warm.