by Bree Wolf
Trent nodded, feeling more disheartened by the minute. How was he to go about winning Winifred’s heart as well as her hand if he was to compete with the finest gentlemen London had to offer?
After all, in her presence he seemed to lack any kind of finesse. Where otherwise he would be charming and agreeable, striving to be attentive and offering compliments, he knew he was unable to do so when the woman he loved was near. As soon as her gaze fell on him, challenging and daring, he could not help but tease her. In truth, he loved the way she had always rolled her eyes at him, lit up with the fire she all too often kept firmly bottled within.
“There’s another matter that complicates things,” Griffin added, wringing his hands as though nervous. A rather unusual sight!
“What is it?”
“Since our parents can no longer assist her,” he said, his voice grave, “I’ve offered to aid her in finding a suitable match. However, she was rather reluctant to allow me to help. In the end, I only gained her acceptance by offering her my trust in exchange for hers.”
Trent frowned. “What do you mean?”
Griffin licked his lips, a disbelieving smile tugging on the left corner. “She agreed to let me find her a suitable match−according to her own directives, of course−if I agree to the same, meaning allow her to choose my future wife.”
Trent was certain his mouth dropped open for a moment. “You did what?”
“I know. I know. It wasn’t my finest moment,” Griffin agreed. “However, I could not allow her to choose for herself. As I said she was going about it in her usual sensible manner, and believe what you want, but I’m convinced it would only make her miserable. I had to step in.”
“So, she wants you to find her a husband?” Trent asked carefully. “She’s leaving the choice completely to you? She will marry whomever you choose?”
Griffin frowned. “Within reason, yes, I suppose so.” Then his gaze met Trent’s, and a large smile curled up his lips. “I can see what you’re thinking. However, I will not sacrifice my own happiness because you’re afraid to declare your feelings. I know my sister; she would exact revenge in a most sensible way.” He scoffed, then turned serious eyes on Trent. “I cannot go over her head. I need to take her demands seriously.”
“I understand.” Trent nodded, knowing that it would be wrong to persuade Winifred into a marriage she did not want to choose freely. Still, for a moment, he had been thoroughly tempted.
“If you want her hand in marriage,” Griffin counselled, “you need to win her heart first.” He sighed rather theatrically. “And preferably before I’m forced to choose one of those mind-numbingly boring gentlemen Winifred currently has her eye on for my future brother-in-law. Believe me, everyone wins if you can find a way to convince her that she’s in love with you and that that is a sensible reason for marriage.” Shaking his head, Griffin rolled his eyes. “Are we in agreement?”
Staring at his best friend, Trent grasped the offered hand and nodded. “I shall try,” he mumbled, feeling his heart ache in his chest as failure and all its consequences loomed on the horizon. Had anyone ever been able to convince Winifred of something she did not want to believe?
“Don’t try, my friend,” Griffin warned. “Do! Failure is not an option, or all our lives will take a turn for the worse.”
Chapter Three – A Gentleman & a Lady
Stanhope Grove sparkled with lights and laughter that New Year’s Eve, and Winifred found herself bewitched by the joyous atmosphere brought on by the promise of a new year and everything it might bring. Music echoed through the vaulted ballroom as couples danced until exhaustion, their cheeks bright red and their eyes aglow, perfectly attuned to the face-splitting smiles that seemed so common that night.
“Is it not wonderful?” the dowager countess beamed, her usually stern expression lost, replaced by one of proud delight. “Is it not the most magnificent ball you’ve ever attended?”
Noting the way Eleanor rolled her eyes as her mother chased one compliment after the other, Winifred smiled at the dowager countess. “It is indeed. I do believe it shall soon become a legendary event greatly anticipated throughout the entire year.”
Instantly, the dowager countess beamed with pleasure, and Winifred looked at her friend, noting the way she shook her head at her, a grateful smile on her kind face.
A moment later, the dowager countess hastened away, no doubt in search of more admirers.
“It was sweet of you to indulge her.” Squeezing Winifred’s hand, Eleanor smiled at her. “I know she can be quite tiresome in her exuberance.”
Winifred chuckled, knowing her friend’s words to be an understatement.
“What is so amusing?” Griffin asked as he walked toward them with Eleanor’s husband, Henry Waltham, by his side.
“Nothing that would concern you,” Winifred said to her brother, unwilling to discuss the dowager’s need for compliments any longer than necessary. So, before he could enquire further, she turned to her friend’s husband. “It is so good to see you again, Mr. Waltham. I hope marriage is treating you well.”
Mr. Waltham smiled, and his gaze momentarily drifted to his wife. As their eyes met, Winifred could have sworn that the lights around them had dimmed−only for a moment as though they knew they could not compete. Then he looked back at her and nodded, gently pulling his wife’s hand through the crook of his arm. “Very much so.”
Still at odds about her friend’s way of procuring a husband−namely falling in love−Winifred watched as Mr. Waltham led Eleanor onto the dance floor.
“They do look happy, do they not?”
Glancing at her brother, Winifred nodded. “They do right now. But how long will it last?”
“No one can know that,” Griffin counselled, and she knew from the way he spoke that he was not merely making an observation but meant to prove a point. “While some arranged marriages end in love, some love matches are reduced to a marriage of convenience. These things happen. No one knows the future. We can only ever make the most out of what we do know.”
Turning to look at her brother, Winifred narrowed her eyes. “And what is that?”
“How we feel.” Holding her gaze, he shrugged. “What we want. What we believe makes us happy.”
Getting annoyed with his lectures, Winifred crossed her arms in defiance and fixed him with an icy stare. “I know what you are trying to do, dear Brother, and I am telling you it will not work. I do know what I want as I have told you more than once. You agreed to help me if you haven’t forgotten.”
With his lips pressed into a thin line, Griffin nodded.
“I’m glad, for your behaviour would suggest otherwise,” Winifred chided. “You’ve done nothing but try to dissuade me from the course I’ve chosen. So, let me ask you: do you wish to be released from your obligation or will you finally take it seriously?”
Defeat on his face, Griffin held her gaze for a long moment. Still, Winifred could almost see his thoughts racing, trying to think of a way to sway her after all. He was nothing if not relentless!
“Fine,” he said, raking his hands through his hair. “I give up. You win.”
Winifred scoffed, “I hardly would call that winning. Did we not agree on this in the first place?”
Grumbling under his breath, Griffin nodded once more.
“Then I would suggest you…” Her voice trailed off as she glanced around the room at the attending gentlemen. Was a suitable man here tonight?
Griffin sighed as though he had been asked to muck out the stables with nothing but a fork. “All right,” he grumbled, annoyance clear in his voice. “Then tell me which gentleman strikes your fancy.”
Spinning around, Winifred glared at her brother. If she did not know any better, she could swear he did this on purpose simply to aggravate her!
“All right. All right.” Throwing up his hands in surrender, he stepped back. “I shall see what I can find out about the eligible bachelors present tonight.” He gestured to the dance f
loor. “You go and enjoy yourself. I suppose someone should.” As he walked away, Winifred heard him grumble under his breath, “Now, she’s got me hunting down men instead of…” His voice trailed off as his attention was momentarily diverted by a fair-haired beauty in a stunning blue gown.
Winifred sighed in exhaustion. What had she been thinking? Could Griffin be trusted to find her a suitable match? Or was this endeavour doomed from the start?
Oh, how she wished her mother were there!
“Good evening, my lady.”
At the sound of his voice, the air rushed from Winifred’s lungs, and her heart almost jumped out of her chest. Closing her eyes for but a moment, she felt goose bumps dance up and down her skin.
Then Winifred jerked her eyes back open and, brushing her hands over her arms to chase away the chill, willed her nerves back under control. Turning around to face him, she could only hope that her emotions were not written all over her face.
“Are you cold?” Trent asked, a concerned frown drawing down his brows as his dark green eyes met hers.
Searched hers.
Held hers.
Winifred swallowed, trying to focus on the words he had spoken. “I’m fine,” she finally said, her voice barely a whisper. How long had it been since she had last seen him? Had it truly been five years?
A few weeks ago, he had come to Atherton House to visit Griffin. However, he had not come to see her. Only after he had already left, had her brother informed her of Trent’s visit, and her heart had ached rather painfully at being overlooked thus. Had they not all been close once? Did he not care for her as he cared for her brother?
A smile curled up Trent’s lips as he formally bowed his head to her. “It is good to see you here, Lady Winifred. I hope you enjoyed the continent.”
Lady Winifred? Swallowing, Winifred frowned. Never in his life had Trent spoken to her in such a civilised manner. What was he up to? “It was pleasant. Quite diverting.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Moments ticked by as they looked at each other. Would he not say more? She wondered. Would he not tease her as he always had?
When the silence became awkward, Winifred groped for something−anything−to say. “I would ask you not to sneak up on a lady,” she chided, her voice harsher than she had intended. “It portrays a severe lack of manners.” Shrugging, she sighed, “But then again, you never had any.” The moment the words left her lips Winifred realised what she had said, and her teeth clenched in mortification. It was all she could do not to cover her mouth in shock.
Trent, however, seemed neither shocked nor offended. In fact, his sparkling green eyes seemed to light up from inside as though she had just answered his most fervent prayers. His face split into a wicked grin as he stepped forward and leaned in conspiratorially. “You know me too well, Fred.”
Fred! There was that name again!
“I’d be much obliged if you would refrain from addressing me thus,” she huffed, doing her best to sound outraged and ignore the little somersaults her stomach did as his breath brushed over her cheek.
“It’s been five years,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ve missed you.”
Winifred swallowed before her eyes sought his. He’d missed her? Never had he… “You’ve missed me?” she scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. “Or rather you’ve missed teasing me? Is that not true? Were you unable to find another woman willing to put up with your manners?”
His smile deepened, and a wicked gleam came to his eyes. “I must admit you never seemed particularly willing, dear Fred. However, I’m glad you’ve cleared that up. Now, that you’re back, I shall not leave your side. After all, we have a lot of time to make up for.”
“I’m afraid I must disappoint you.” Taking a step back, Winifred squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “At present, I find myself rather,” she groped for words yet again, “occupied.” Why was it that this man always made her feel like a woman without sense?
“Occupied?” He grinned, once more closing the distance between them. “Doing what?”
“That is none of your concern.” She took another step back.
His eyes flashed. “Sounds intriguing. Tell me more.”
“I shall not.”
“Why?” Again, he took a step closer, unwilling to let her escape.
Rolling her eyes, Winifred felt the familiar feeling of utter annoyance flare to life. “Because it does not concern you!”
At the pitch in her voice, he grinned. “You’ve already said that.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Winifred glared at him. “Were you born this irritating?”
“What can I say?” He shrugged. “You bring out the best sides of me.”
“Hardly.” Unbelievable! The nerve that man had!
Unexpectedly, he offered her his arm. “May I have this dance?” he asked, glancing at the dance floor where couples stood up for a cotillion.
Taken aback, Winifred did not know what to say. A part of her almost desperately wanted to know what it would feel like to sweep across the dance floor in Trent’s arms. However, at the same time, warning bells went off in her ears! There was something dangerous about him, and if she was not careful, he would upset her carefully thought-out plans.
“I’m afraid I must decline,” Winifred said, and for a moment, the touch of honest disappointment that came to his eyes robbed her of all rational thought. “However, I…I’ve promised this dance to my brother. Therefore, I must take my leave.”
As she turned away, her heart pounding in her chest like never before, Trent suddenly stepped into her path, holding out an arm to keep her from stealing past him.
Frowning, she glared at him. “What’s the meaning of this?” No manners whatsoever, it would seem!
“I apologise.” Still, the look on his face was far from apologetic. In fact, he looked very pleased with himself. Smug even. “However, Griffin asked me to step in for this dance.”
Winifred frowned. How could he have? After all, it had been a lie.
“He told me he was rather occupied with some sort of project you asked him to assist with,” Winifred froze, “and knowing how much you love it, he did not wish for you to miss the chance to dance.”
Staring at Trent, Winifred felt the blood drain from her face. Did he know? Had Griffin told him? The way he had stressed the words occupied and project suggested a deeper meaning. Was he teasing her? Did he know and now wanted nothing more but to see her squirm?
Forcing a calming breath into her lungs, Winifred swallowed, willing her muscles to relax. “If that is what he said.” Then she lifted her hand and placed it on his, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor.
The warmth of his hand−even through her glove−sent a jolt through her body, which made her draw in a sharp breath.
“Are you all right?”
Willing a noncommittal smile onto her face, Winifred nodded. “Perfectly fine.”
As the music started to play, all the couples began moving up and down the line. Relieved, Winifred concentrated on the steps, the rhythm, anything but the man across from her.
“You seem flustered.”
Her eyes snapped up. “I’m not!”
“As you wish,” he said with a chuckle.
After that, they managed a few steps in silence. Still, she could feel his eyes on her and wondered what he was up to.
“Your brother seems to be enjoying himself.”
Frowning, Winifred looked at Trent, then followed his gaze down the line…where her brother was dancing with the fair-haired beauty in the stunning blue gown, who had caught his attention before.
Heat shot up Winifred’s face at having her lie pointed out to her so bluntly.
Still, she refused to submit to defeat. Instead, she turned her glower onto the man who deserved it. “I admit it was an excuse−”
“It was a lie,” he corrected smiling as though he was enjoying this…which he probably was. “You lied to me.”
; Winifred gritted her teeth. “As did you.”
A frown drew down his brows. “Care to enlighten me?”
“You said my brother had asked you to step in,” she elaborated, wondering how Trent could know about their project if he had indeed never spoken to Griffin. “Was that not also a lie, my lord?”
“It most certainly was,” he admitted freely, drawing her arm through his before he led her off the dance floor and toward the refreshment table.
Frowning, Winifred only now noticed that the music had stopped, and the dance ended.
“You seem parched,” Trent observed, handing her a glass of lemonade, his eyes smiling as he stepped closer and his arm brushed hers. “I must say lying becomes you.”
Winifred flinched, feeling mortified when he laughed.
“Your cheeks are flushed. Your eyes are glowing.” Then he sighed as though he were an art enthusiast gazing at a masterpiece. “Looking like this, you are the image of…”
Unable to stop herself, Winifred prompted, “Of what?”
Instantly, that wicked gleam was back in his eyes. “I fear I must think on that.”
Inside, Winifred wilted. Were they truly unable to speak to each other in a civilised manner? What did that say about them? About her? Thinking of her list of attributes, Winifred wondered if she ought to amend it. Was she a petty or even vindictive person? Why could she not let go of the past and meet Trent with a clean slate? After all, it had been five years.
Inhaling a deep breath, Winifred set down her lemonade. “Then I shall leave you to it. Good day, my lord.” And without looking over her shoulder, she marched to the other side of the large room, grateful when she spied Eleanor and her husband leaving the dance floor.
“Are you all right?” her friend asked when Winifred drew near. Then she cast a meaningful glance at her husband, who promptly excused himself. “Is something wrong?”
Winifred shook her head, unable to explain the turmoil that had been her constant companion since Trent had materialised behind her. And so, she inhaled another deep breath, forced a delighted smile on her face and said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, “Not at all. In fact, I’m enjoying myself quite profusely.”