He had to force his improper thoughts down so that he could approach her and not make a cake of himself. His eyes settled on her berry tinted lips as he drew near and he almost stumbled. They were slightly parted and dewy, practically taunting him to kiss them. He closed his eyes and very nearly groaned aloud.
“Good evening, Lord Straton. How do you do?”
He opened his eyes slowly and forced himself to look into her eyes and not at her tempting lips. “I am well. Would you honor me with a dance?”
Opening the fan that was hanging around her wrist, Lady Adel began speaking as she fluttered the contraption back and forth. “I would be delighted to dance with you, perhaps later. I find I am in need of some fresh air at the moment. It was all I could do to keep up with the steps of the last dance and at the same time keep Sir Benton from stepping on my toes.”
Griffin extended his arm towards her. “Then please, allow me to escort you out into the gardens.”
Lady Adel lowered her fan and looked at him nervously. “I am not sure that would be wise.”
“Do you not trust yourself to resist my obvious charms?”
“It is you I do not trust, not myself, my lord.”
Griffin pretended not to be bothered by her comment. “I give you my word that I will behave. We will go out long enough for you to get the fresh air that you need then we will return at once to the ballroom.”
He watched as her eyes scanned the room nervously while he waited for her to make up her mind. Finally, she took his offered arm and said, “Very well, but let us be quick.”
Several couples were scattered throughout the lush gardens as they made their way on the moonlit path. The chill in the air felt delicious as it caressed their heated skin. Griffin was glad that Lady Adel had suggested the outing. He led her to a stone bench nestled against the box hedge and waited for her to sit.
Staring at the small space next to her, he debated whether or not he should attempt to sit there. He finally decided that perhaps it would be less awkward than standing before her, towering above her as she sat. He lowered himself next to her, trying to ignore how his body brushed up against her side as he did so.
Leaning forward on his forearms, he turned his head towards her. Lady Adel’s head was tilted towards the moon. He took the opportunity to observe her and noticed her lips were moving silently, as if she were talking, though not a peep could be heard.
“Did you say something?” he asked curiously.
She turned to him, and even in the dark he could tell that she was blushing. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I was just…” her sentence trailed off as she reached her hands up to cover her face.
Griffin reached over and removed her hands from her face. “Do not be embarrassed.” She nodded but did not attempt to return to her explanation.
Griffin decided to pry. “Were you asking me a question? Because if you were, I must apologize, for I did not hear it.”
“No, I wasn’t talking to you.”
“But you were talking?” his eyebrow was raised in curiosity.
She hesitated before speaking, though she didn’t look at him as she did so. “I was talking to my mother. I guess it is habit. I always find the brightest star in the sky and pretend it is her, and I talk to her sometimes. I honestly hadn’t realized I was doing it until you caught me. Silly, I know.”
Griffin watched her swallow and knew she was trying to keep her emotions at bay. “Look at me,” he urged. Slowly she turned to him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. His heart clenched to see her pain still so raw, and he knew her eyes mirrored his own heart. For though he kept it hidden deep inside, his own sadness could be felt to his very core, mixed with an anger he found absent in her.
“I think I can finally answer your question,” he said, surprising even himself.
“Which question would that be, my lord?”
“Why you? I’ve thought about it a dozen times since you asked me, and it wasn’t until now that I realized the answer.”
When he fell silent she asked, “Are you going to enlighten me?”
He nodded, feeling suddenly and uncharacteristically shy. “You remind me of myself.” When she looked at him skeptically, he hurried to continue with his explanation. “The pain of losing a dear loved one is hard to comprehend unless you can relate, and for various reasons, not everyone experiences sadness to the same degree. But,” he said as he patted his chest right above his heart, “you and I feel it deeply, profoundly, and it has changed who we are. That is why I feel so protective of you, because I see in you something that I recognize in myself, and I want to comfort you. I do not want you to ever experience anymore pain than you already do. I do not want you to end up like my sister.”
“Tell me about your sister.”
Griffin’s hands balled into tight fists, as he looked straight ahead and recalled the sad tale. “Rose is six years younger than I and loved my mother as much as I did, if not more. Our mother’s death was unexpected and sudden. She was riding her horse one morning, as she always did, when something spooked her mare, causing it to throw her from its back. She landed at an odd angle, breaking her neck. She died instantly. At least that’s what we like to believe, for neither Rose nor I could bear the thought of her writhing in pain, all alone and suffering until she died.”
Lady Adele sucked in a shocked breath, her hand coming to rest upon his arm. Griffin ignored her touch as he continued, “My father, the Earl of Westingham, didn’t even have the gall to act sad about her passing, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. He has always been like that—cold and unfeeling. He barely allowed Rose and me to mourn her for the respectable period before he was forcing Rose to wed the first man who offered for her. She was barely eighteen when she married the Baron Moncreif, an ancient widower whose property borders our family estate. She never got to experience a season, to dance and flirt with men her own age and to feel young and free.”
“Did you she tell your father that she wanted a season?”
Griffin looked at her and scoffed, “You don’t understand, it wouldn’t have mattered if she had. My father has never given a fig for what anyone wants but himself. It suited his needs to wed off his only daughter so he would not have to deal with her, so that is what he did. He’s the most selfish man I know, and I hate him.”
“Oh, Lord Straton, do not speak so. Your anger is more than understandable, but surely you do not hate him.”
Griffin turned intense eyes on her, “You don’t know my father. There is nothing good or kind in him and I highly doubt he has ever loved anyone besides himself—not his wife and certainly not his children.”
“Perhaps he truly thought he was doing what was best for your sister.”
Griffin had to turn away from the look of pity she was giving him because he couldn’t stand it, not when it was concerning his father. “Marrying Rose off to a man twice her age was most certainly not in her best interest. And it’s just not a matter of age, for her husband,” he bit out the word acerbically, “is perhaps the most selfish, hateful man, next to my father of course, I have ever had the displeasure of being acquainted with.”
By the time he had finished, Griffin was breathing hard. He had not shared so much of his deepest feelings with another soul perhaps ever. Part of him felt shame at the things he had revealed to Lady Adel, but a small part of him felt an odd relief at opening up about the things that felt like they were threatening to destroy his soul.
Perhaps hate was a strong emotion, but he felt like without it, he’d be forced to admit that somewhere, hidden by years’ worth of scars, there was a tiny speck of love for his father buried inside of him. The possibility frightened him more than the burgeoning hate. For admitting he loved someone who would never love him back was far too frightening of a possibility.
“Lord Straton,” Lady Adel’s soft voice pulled him back to the present. “I’m sorry…”
He was quick to interrupt. “Do not apologize, for none of this is you
r fault.”
Putting her hand up, she stopped him. “You didn’t let me finish. I’m sorry for misjudging you. Perhaps in my assessment of your character I have been too harsh. Can you forgive me?”
A slow smile stole across his face, “If you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“Of course. Perhaps we can be friends after all.”
Griffin wanted to curse. Friends? Blast it all, how could he ever convince her to marry him if she only saw him as a dratted friend. He closed his eyes and sighed, deciding to set that aside for the time being.
“I’d be honored,” he half lied. He figured it was a start at least.
The smile she gave him made him feel as if he were the most important man in the world. He made himself stand and offer her his hand lest he be tempted to take her into his arms and kiss her. The heady combination of moonlight and emotional intimacy made him crave something even more from her, but he knew she wasn’t ready for that, and he would hate to jeopardize their newborn friendship.
He wasn’t sure if it was only his imagination, but Griffin could have sworn that she held on to his arm a little tighter as they returned to the ballroom. He wondered if there was any way possible that she felt attracted to him as he did to her. He quickly dispelled the thought, for it was pointless to contemplate something he may very well never have an answer to.
The bright light caused by the numerous flickering candles nearly blinded them as they returned once more to the crowded ballroom. The orchestra was resting in between dances, but the hum of people conversing was nearly deafening.
Griffin lowered his mouth to Lady Adel’s ear and spoke loud enough for her to hear above the noise, “I’m still planning on claiming that dance you promised me.”
“But of course.”
Unwilling to part with her just yet, Griffin led her to the refreshment table and procured a glass of lemonade and handed it to her before grabbing one for himself. They sipped the tepid liquid in silence as they waited for the next dance to begin.
Griffin’s eyes scanned the throngs of people. He saw a man that resembled his brother-in-law, Lord Moncreif and did a quick double take. Sure enough, the portly man was indeed his sister’s husband. Confusion settled over him, for he hadn’t received word from his sister that she was in London, and Rose always informed him when she was coming to Town.
Setting his lemonade down, he turned to Lady Adel. “I apologize, for it appears as if I will have to claim my dance later. I see someone I must speak with posthaste.” Then he turned and fled into the crowd.
Chapter 8
As was her custom, Adel was up long before what was considered normal in Town. She basked in the silence of the wee morning hours, loving the serenity she found. This morning was different, however, for instead of being woken up by one of her usual nightmares, or being roused from her slumber by her melancholy, she had awoken with thoughts of Lord Straton rolling around her head, curious beyond reason as to why he never came and retrieved her for the dance he was so adamant about claiming.
She knew it wasn’t wise, but Adel couldn’t help but worry about his reasoning. Had she done something that had put him off? Was he withdrawing from her after their unguarded conversation in the gardens? Perhaps in hindsight he was feeling rather foolish for opening up to her and sharing his deepest and most personal of pains. She truly hoped that was not the case, for his openness is what made her feelings for him turn from that of irritation to that of tenderness.
Sitting at her dressing table, she loosened the ribbon tied around her braid and began running her fingers through her hair to separate it. Picking up her ivory backed hairbrush, she began to brush her hair, counting the strokes as she stared at herself in the looking glass. She groaned quietly when she noticed that the smudges of gray were once more noticeable underneath her eyes. She would have to have her cook begin preparing her a hot posset nightly if she wished to remain free from the dratted things. The last thing she wanted was someone commenting on them again.
Laying down her brush, she slid a container of powder towards her and picked up the puff, applying the dusty contents liberally under her eyes in an effort to disguise the black circles. Slouching down in her chair with a harrumph, she bemoaned the ineffectiveness of her effort, for it barely made any difference at all.
By the time she joined Aunt Tabitha and Katherine in the breakfast room, she had already been up for several hours. She had penned and prepared another article for The Morning Post to be sent out with the days post as well as sorted through her entire wardrobe, deciding upon which dresses she would wear for the next fortnight’s worth of entertainments. If she had been at home in Kent instead of in Town, she would have sneaked quietly from the house and gone on an early morning ride to cure her ennui, but being in the city did not afford her that option.
“Another restless night?” Aunt Tabitha queried, as she peered up at her over the rim of her teacup. Adel walked to the sidebar and picked up a plate. “Suffice it to say that nearly every night is a restless one. There is no need to comment on it daily.” She knew she sounded rude, but her own irritation at her restless slumber goaded her on.
Both Katherine and Aunt Tabitha wisely remained silent as she filled up her plate with a scone and clotted cream, two links of sausage and eggs. By the time she joined them at the table, they had already seemingly forgotten her remark and were chattering animatedly between themselves about the house calls they were planning on making that morning. She tried to feign interest in the plans they were making as she squeezed a slice of lemon into her tea, but eventually her desire for food won out and she concentrated on relieving the rumbling in her stomach instead.
Several bites into her meal the butler walked into the room. He extended a silver platter to her where a nondescript white envelope lay on top of a cream colored one. Her heart began to race as she scooped them both up, placing the white one in her lap and leaving the other one, with her name scrawled on front in a bold hand, on the table beside her plate. Was Mr. Bell sending her a correspondence so soon? She didn’t dare open it in front of her family. Ignoring both letters, she slowly resumed eating.
“Adel, who is the missive from?” Katherine asked as she eyed the envelope on the table.
“I do not know.”
“Well, open it and find out,” Aunt Tabitha urged.
Adel set down her fork and wiped her hands on her linen napkin before picking up the envelope and breaking the seal. Unfolding a single sheet of parchment, her eyes quickly slid to the bottom of the letter to see whom it was from. Lord Straton’s name stood out from the page, causing her heart to race. She quickly read the contents of the letter before folding it up and setting it once more on the table.
“Well?” Katherine pried. “Do not keep us waiting.”
Adel tried to tame the smile that was threatening to split her face, but it was to no avail. “Lord Straton has invited us to afternoon tea at his sister’s residence. We must let him know at once if we wish to attend so that he can arrange to pick us up.”
“His sister? I do not think we have been introduced,” Aunt Tabitha pointed out.
“She has only just come to Town,” Adel explained. “But I hear she is a lovely girl. Shall we accept the invitation?”
Katherine looked at her curiously. “I thought you loathed the man. Why all of a sudden do you desire to spend the afternoon in his presence?”
Adel attempted to appear nonchalant as she picked haphazardly at the remainder of the scone on her plate. “I must admit to some curiosity about his sister. I have heard so much about her.”
Katherine and Aunt Tabitha exchanged a confused look. “My dear, how have you heard so much about this mysterious lady? I myself haven’t heard a word spoken of her in any social circle.”
Adel realized her mistake too late. “Lord Straton has mentioned her to me.”
“Is that so?” Katherine was looking at her strangely, making Adel want to squirm under her scrutiny.
“Regardless, I think it would be a pleasant way to spend the afternoon. Much more pleasant than wiling away the hours in the parlor working on needlework or reading.”
“If you wish to go,” Aunt Tabitha responded, “we would be delighted to accept the offer. Pen him a missive posthaste and have one of the footmen deliver it at once.”
Adel rose from the table, forgetting about the envelope in her lap until it fluttered to the floor. She bent to retrieve it, holding it behind her back as she smiled. “Very well, please excuse me.”
Sitting down at her writing desk, Adel penned a quick acceptance to Lord Straton before handing it off to her maid to see that it got delivered. Once the maid had left, she slid the other letter from the envelope and read: Mrs. Tiddlyswan,
Congratulations on your latest column. You have definitely recaptured some of your original genius with the report of Lady Grace blackmailing Lord Crestin. Now our dear readers are anxiously awaiting the next installment where we learn the cause of such blackmail. I have included your payment with this letter and look forward to our continued business association.
Mr. Bell
Adel slid several notes from the envelope and tucked them away in her enamel-carved jewelry box and sighed. The column she had just sent off this morning did not contain a single word regarding Lady Grace and Lord Crestin. Mr. Bell and her readers were sure to be disappointed. Truth was, she hadn’t seen either of them since the night she had learned of the blackmail, but tonight when she attended the Wilkenson ball, she would have to be more alert. She knew that if she didn’t learn something new soon, Mr. Bell would not be pleased.
***
By the time his carriage rolled to a halt in front of the Desmond’s townhouse, Griffin was in a most excellent mood. He hadn’t been entirely sure if Lady Adel would accept his invitation to have tea at his sister’s or not, so that she had so quickly done so, delighted him immensely. That, combined with his desire to see Rose, proved a heady combination indeed.
Unconventional Suitors 02 - Her Unconventional Hero Page 6