Unconventional Suitors 02 - Her Unconventional Hero

by Ginny Hartman

  He looked at her stunned, still reeling from her admission and startled by her cold, unfeeling demeanor.

  “Do not bother removing yourself from the floor. I will see myself out.”

  “Adel, wait,” he called after her, making to rise. “Please, let’s not part like this.” But by the time he had risen and made his way to the door, she was already climbing into her carriage, not even bothering him a glance as he called after her.

  Chapter 12

  Adel pulled the curtains closed the minute she got into the carriage, her anger giving away to humiliated tears as she thought back to the tender feelings she had begun to harbor for Lord Straton, but that was over now. Their friendship was ruined, and the thought of showing her face in society only deepened her humiliation. Had Lord Straton’s friends been watching her the last several weeks, laughing at his pathetic attempts to court her? And what of Lady Danford? She had thought her a friend of sorts, never once suspecting that she could have ulterior motives behind her politeness. Adel felt betrayed.

  It took her several minutes to compose herself enough to alight from the carriage and enter the townhouse once she had arrived home. She said a silent prayer of gratitude when she learned that Aunt Tabitha and Katherine were not yet back from their shopping excursion.

  She hurried to her room and quickly dismissed her maid after letting her take her pelisse and bonnet, even going as far as to lock the door behind her to assure her privacy. Sitting down at her writing desk she noticed a blank white envelope. She broke the seal and slid her payment from the envelope before walking to the fireplace and throwing the letter into the low burning flames without even reading the note from Mr. Bell.

  Returning to her desk, she took out a piece of parchment and wrote:

  Rose,

  I wanted to apologize for leaving without saying goodbye in person. Something unexpected has come up and I must return to Kent for a time. I wanted you to have this money and to know that I wish you the best. I will forever remember you and pray that one day your happiness will be realized.

  Lady Adel

  Adel took her final payment from Mr. Bell and combined it with the remainder of her pin money, stuffing the contents into the envelope before sealing it. By the time Rose received it, she would be long gone from London.

  She rested her elbows on her desk and propped her head in her hands. She felt weary from the crying and from the anger, but more than anything, her heart was breaking. She thought back to the tender kisses she and Griffin had exchanged and her heart literally ached. He had been an expert at the game he had been playing with her, drawing her in with the conversations about his mother and tricking her with his kisses. She had felt something stir within in her breast, her very soul, as he had pressed his lips to hers. Had he not felt it too?

  Adel groaned. It would do her well not to contemplate such things, for it only served to make her more miserable.

  She had no idea how long she sat with her head in her hands until footsteps in the hall alerted her that Katherine must be home. She stood, walking to her looking glass to glance at her appearance. She looked nearly as wretched as she felt, but perhaps that would work to her advantage. Taking a steadying breath, she turned the key in her lock and left her room.

  She didn’t have long to gather her courage before finding Aunt Tabitha and Katherine in Katherine’s bedchamber, instructing the servants where to place several hatboxes. It appeared as if their shopping trip had been quite successful.

  Amidst the hustle and bustle, no one noticed her as she entered the room. She waited patiently for the servants to finish up their tasks and leave before making her presence known. “Aunt Tabitha, I need to speak with you.”

  Aunt Tabitha and Katherine turned to look at her, surprised by the intrusion. “My dear child, you gave me a fright,” Aunt Tabitha laughed as she put one hand over her heart. Stepping closer, she eyed Adel shrewdly. “Whatever is wrong? You do not look well.”

  Katherine rushed to her side, taking her hand in hers. “Adel, whatever is the matter?”

  Their concern made her emotional. Swallowing beyond the lump that was forming in her throat she managed to squeak out, “I am not feeling well. I have been doing some thinking, and I wish to return home.”

  “Oh bother,” Aunt Tabitha felt her forehead, then her cheeks. “Shall I send for the physician?”

  Adel shook her hands away. “No, that will not be necessary. I fear that part of my problem is that I am missing mother so much, and father. I just want to go home and see him.” Her voice broke on the last part.

  Katherine gathered her into her arms. “Dearest sister, I thought that you were doing better. You have not been coming to my chambers in the wee hours of morning, so I had very much hoped that that meant you were sleeping better.”

  It was true, she had been for a time, but she knew she wouldn’t be now. “I want to go home,” she pleaded with Katherine, hoping she would understand.

  “I have an idea,” Aunt Tabitha interrupted. “Why don’t we send a missive to your father summoning him to come to Town for the remainder of the Season. Surely he would be delighted to see you both and to partake of the end of season entertainments. That way he can travel with us back to Terrace Manor when we are ready to return home.”

  Still looking at Katherine, in hopes of evoking her sympathy, Adel said, “I don’t want father to come here. I do not feel well enough to parade around Town pretending to feel well. Surely you understand.”

  “Oh Adel, I do understand. But what of Lord Straton and Rose?”

  Adel bristled as she closed her eyes in annoyance. “What of them?”

  “I thought they were your friends. Do you truly wish to leave them?”

  “I hardly know Rose, and Griffin is no longer my friend.” She knew she sounded shrewish, but she was afraid if she didn’t let some of her anger through, too much of her sadness would show.

  Katherine and Aunt Tabitha exchanged a strange look. “Griffin?” Aunt Tabitha questioned. “Is that Lord Straton’s Christian name?”

  Adel wanted to kick herself for her mistake. “I do not wish to speak of Lord Straton. I simply came to tell you that I wish to go home. Can you make arrangements with the servants to ready my stuff and prepare a carriage? I’d like to leave posthaste.”

  “We will go with you,” Katherine stated firmly.

  “Oh no, you couldn’t.”

  “Why not?” Aunt Tabitha questioned haughtily.

  “Because it would cause a scandal. What would the ton think if the Desmond’s all disappeared before the season’s end? No, I do not wish to attach any scandal to our family name. I insist that you stay here with Katherine. Let her finish the season out. I will take my lady’s maid with me as a travel companion and if anyone is to ask, you can simply tell them that I have taken ill and have returned to Terrace Manor to be cared for.”

  “Are you certain this is what you want, child?”

  “I am positively certain,” she answered honestly.

  “Then I shall grant you your request.”

  “Thank you.” Adel slid from Katherine’s arms and into Aunt Tabitha’s, a tiny spark of relief taking root in her breast. At least she wouldn’t have to face Lord Straton or his idiotic friends ever again. The thought giving her a modicum of relief.

  ***

  Griffin drummed his fingers anxiously on the wooden table in front of him. Where were his friends? He had sent Benedict and Warren missives informing them that he must speak with them at once, asking them to meet him at White’s, but so far neither of them had shown. He ordered himself a scotch as he waited, hoping it would help alleviate some of the myriad of feelings that were coursing through his mind.

  He knew now that he had been foolish to tell Adel about the bet between him and his friends. At the time he had hoped that it would help her understand why he did what he did, why he had proposed to her in such an unfeeling way. At the same time he had also hoped that she would be levelheaded enough to u
nderstand that he was not the same arrogant man who had hoped to win her affections by simply asking for them. He had hoped that she would see that he had changed, that he had come to care for her and not just because he was supposed to wed her, but because he wanted to.

  He threw down the remainder of his scotch, enjoying the way it burned all the way down his throat and into his belly. There wasn’t enough liquor in the world to seer out the last memory he had of Adel—hate seething from her brilliant emerald eyes, directed only at him.

  He had just ordered another scotch when Benedict and Warren finally arrived, sitting casually at the table as if it were completely normal for him to summon them there. Perhaps it was, he thought rationally, but tonight he didn’t feel anything like normal. In fact, he felt quite out of sorts; foolishly regretting his actions and concerned for all of their reputations.

  “Sorry for the delay, man. It is not as easy to disappear from a ball as it once was. My wife actually enjoys attending them, and she much prefers it when I stay by her side.” Benedict sat back in the chair, stretching his long legs beneath the table. He had no idea that anything was amiss.

  Warren leaned forward on his elbows, shaking his snifter of brandy in his hand, causing the brown liquid to swirl around and around in endless circles. Griffin trained his eyes on the brandy, mesmerized by the movement.

  “Would you like a drink?” Warren asked him, noticing his intense stare.

  Griffin snapped out of his reverie. Running one hand through his hair, he gathered the courage to speak. “I summoned you both here tonight because we have a problem.”

  “We?” Benedict asked him skeptically. “Are you sure it’s not you with the problem?”

  “No, I’m pretty certain this involves all of us. Marcus too.” When his statement was only met with blank stares, he decided to continue. “I told Adel about the bet. She knows you chose her to be my wife.”

  Benedict pounded one fist angrily on the table. “Fiend seize it, man. Why did you tell her? I can imagine that telling her did not win you any favors.”

  “No, it didn’t. In fact, I think it may have only caused further harm.”

  “You don’t say,” Benedict rolled his eyes. “I should have specified that we keep that little detail to ourselves, but I thought you were smart enough to gather that on your own. How do you expect her to agree to wed you now?”

  “I don’t, not at all.” He experienced disappointment anew at his vocal admission. “But, it gets worse.”

  Warren signaled with his hand for him to continue. “Might as well get it all off your chest. You look as if you are full to the brim, ready to explode.”

  “Surely the name Mrs. Tiddlyswan will mean something to you.”

  Benedict leaned forward, one dark brow raised. “That wretched columnist who caused my mother so much grief with her need to report about every one of my fashions missteps?”

  “Yes. I fear she is about to make our lives even more miserable.”

  Warren and Benedict exchanged a look. “How so?” Warren asked. “You better get to the point or I’m leaving. My mistress is waiting for me, and I find the promise of her delights much more tempting than this conversation.”

  Lowering his voice so he could barely be heard, Griffin hissed, “Lady Adel is Mrs. Tiddlyswan.”

  Both of his friends gasped, which would have been humorous had the situation not been so grave.

  “Did I hear you right?” Benedict asked in surprise.

  “Yes, and she has promised to humiliate us by reporting on our bet in The Morning Post.”

  “Blast it all! Something has to be done. We must expose her before she has a chance to expose us. Write to The Times and tell them her true identity. Let them know that…”

  Griffin raised his hand to silence Warren’s tirade. “We will do no such thing. If word gets out about her, she will be utterly ruined. I refuse to allow that to happen. If you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, I promise I will call you out.”

  A stony silence settled over the friends. Finally Benedict spoke, “You must truly care for the chit if you are willing to risk your own reputation to protect hers.”

  There was no doubt in Griffin’s mind that that was true, but he wasn’t in the mood to admit it to his friends. “Suffice it to say that I am not overly concerned. Our reputations could be repaired much easier than hers could. It is not uncommon for men to place bets. There’s an entire book full of them sitting over there that proves that.” His hand signaled haphazardly to the infamous betting book across the room.

  “If you are not concerned, then why did you call us here tonight?” Warren asked, irritably.

  “I thought you deserved a warning.” Turning to Benedict he said, “She also knows that your wife is aware of the fact that you are to choose all of our wives. She wasn’t pleased by the fact that so many people knew of her humiliation.”

  Benedict’s eyes flashed murderously at the mention of his wife. “I do not give a damn if she writes about each one of us, but I swear, if she writes one single thing about my wife, I will ring her neck.”

  Griffin’s chest puffed out in anger. “You will not touch her.”

  “Try me,” he snapped coldly.

  “If you do anything to cause her anymore heartache, I swear it will mark the end of our friendship, Benedict. You forget that she is a victim of our folly. She did not choose to be the punishment of a lost bet, but she was and now she is hurt because of it.”

  “She would never have been hurt if you hadn’t told her,” Warren pointed out the obvious, his eyes gleaming with accusation.

  Griffin huffed, “Do you think I do not know that? I regret doing so now, but at the time, I felt as if she deserved to know. I didn’t want to lie to her.”

  “Well perhaps you should have,” Benedict spat. “You have jeopardized not only your relationship with Lady Adel by your admission, but all of our reputations as well. I suggest you figure out a way to stop her from exposing us before even more people end up hurt.”

  “Trust me, I am going to try,” Griffin muttered miserably. “But let me set you straight on one account—though I regret my honesty did not yield favorable results, I do not for one minute regret being honest with Lady Adel. Can a solid relationship be built on a dishonest foundation?”

  He settled an intense gaze on Benedict, hoping to give him pause. “Your marriage could have started out with plenty of secrets, but it would only have harmed it in the end.”

  Benedict was thoughtful, for he knew that Griffin was right. He had owed it to Gillian to tell her about the bet between friends, to let her know that despite his initial attempts to woo her for the bets sake, he truly had fallen in love with who she was. And what about the discovery that her little brother Anthony was actually his father’s illegitimate son? He groaned aloud. “You are right, I cannot be angry for your desire to be truthful, though we must hope that the consequences aren’t too horrendous to bear.”

  “Well one thing can be certain,” Griffin interjected. “I will no longer be able to satisfy your condition that I marry Lady Adel.” Then, with a pain in his heart that felt oddly like it was ripping in half, he muttered sadly, “You will have to choose someone else for me to wed.”

  Benedict stared at Griffin while the pain in his heart threatened to kill him. For a moment he truly wondered if he should send for a physician, for he had never felt such all-consuming grief before, not even when his mother had died. Though he still carried around a fair amount of sorrow at her absence, he knew that there had been nothing he could have done to prevent her death. This deal with Lady Adel was different, for it had been all his fault.

  “I won’t do it,” Benedict firmly stated.

  “You have to, for I see no way to win her hand in marriage now. Can’t you understand that?” he pleaded.

  “Yes, I can. I do not expect you to continue your pursuit of her, nor any lady of my choosing. The deal is off. Wed whomever you will.”

  Warren l
ooked startled. “Does that include me?”

  “Yes,” Benedict barked, “it includes all of you. I have no desire to risk anyone’s future happiness for my amusement. I truly desired for you to wed someone who would make you as happy as I am with Gillian, but perhaps I made the wrong choice. I can see now that you and Lady Adel would never have suited,” he stated matter-of-factly to Griffin before turning to Warren. “And you and Miss Graham would probably be just as miserable. She is like a little sister to you, after all.”

  Ignoring his friends’ disgusted looks, Benedict rose from the table. “I bid you good night. I must get home to my wife so I can warn her of the possibility of a scandal.”

  Griffin managed to tamper his anger at Benedict’s declaration that he and Lady Adel would not suit. His friend was completely and foolishly wrong; for they would have suited splendidly; he was sure of it. “Benedict, I give you my vow that I will do all that I can to dissuade Lady Adel from writing anything about your wife. It’s the least I can do.”

  With a nod of his head, Benedict expressed his appreciation before leaving without another word.

  Chapter 13

  Griffin spent a long, restless night tossing and turning as he desperately tried to formulate a plan to convince Adel not to expose him and his friends in her gossip column. He knew it would be futile to simply call on her and demand that she not do so, though that was the only thing he could think to do.

  Feeling helpless, he finally peeled himself from his bed. Bending to light a candle in the fire, he rose and walked to a small desk that sat against the far wall of his chamber. Setting the candle down, he rummaged through the drawer for parchment and a quill. He couldn’t remember the last time he had written anything outside of his study downstairs and wasn’t entirely sure he’d find the writing tools he needed.

  Finally he gave up, though his desire to pen a letter to Lady Adel did not dissipate. With reluctance, he went to his dressing room and found a banyan, quickly tying it around his waist before exiting his room. The house was eerie at night, with shadows dancing across the papered walls cast from the single source of light in the house, the half-melted candle in his hand. He was careful to tread lightly as he walked, not wanting to stir any of the servants.