Unconventional Suitors 01 - Her Unconventional Suitor (17 page)

“Because somebody needed to watch after your brother and sister while you had your debut,” she explained kindly, though the sadness never left her face.

Gillian scoffed, “But there are governesses aplenty that my father could have hired.”

“That is true, Gillian. But suffice it to say that it was an arrangement that worked to my advantage as well. I desired to get away from London so I was quick to offer my services to your parents. Now,” she said as she patted Gillian’s arm gently, “you must cease worrying about me and worry about more important things, like a certain suitor that has just arrived to call on you.”

Gillian straightened and looked at Miranda oddly, “Lord Danford is here? How did you know?”

“Because I could see him alighting from his carriage through the window. He is making his way in just now.”

Gillian rose from the settee and waited anxiously for Lord Danford to be shown in. He walked into the drawing room holding an extravagant bouquet of red roses and lilies. He presented them to her with a flourish, “Please allow me to make my apologies.”

Gillian took the offered flowers, breathing deeply of their intoxicating scent. “Your apologies for what, my lord?”

Lord Danford looked at her, one eyebrow quirked, “Is your memory that short, my lady?”

Gillian exhaled. “No, my lord, it isn’t. I was trying to take my Aunt Miranda’s advice to heart and not let what happened last night bother me.”

“But I would not fault you at all if you were bothered.”

“Truthfully?” she asked as she searched his handsome face.

Lord Danford glanced quickly to Aunt Miranda who did not appear to be paying them any mind. “No, I would not fault your for being upset at me for not doing what I promised to do. I am usually a man of my word, and I came to assure you that I will do better in the future.”

“Thank you,” she muttered softly. She looked into his gray eyes that were staring intently at her and decided to offer a suggestion. “The reason it vexes me so fully is because it seems like such a simple solution. If you would like, I could go with you to Bond Street today. I’m sure Aunt Miranda wouldn’t mind an outing.”

“Where are you ladies off to now?”

Gillian turned to see her father entering the room. She hurriedly set the vase of flowers down on a side table and scurried to her father’s side. “Oh father, I wasn’t expecting you home, but I am so glad that you are. I’d like to introduce you to the Earl of Danford.”

Lord Danford walked forward and bowed before the duke. “Pleased to meet you, your grace.”

“Likewise,” her father replied. “I have to apologize, for my wife was in the midst of planning a dinner party so I could have the pleasure of meeting your acquaintance before she was summoned to her sister’s side.”

Gillian knew that Lord Danford was aware that what her father was saying was a lie, but was grateful when he pretended as if her father’s excuse was perfectly acceptable. “I am sorry to hear of your wife’s departure and of her sister’s illness. I hope she experiences a speedy recovery and that her grace can return to London posthaste.”

“Thank you. In the meantime, why don’t you join us for dinner tonight? It will be a rather informal family affair, but if you do not mind, I would very much desire to further our acquaintance.”

“I would be honored, your grace. Now, I hope you do not find me rude, but I have a few matters of business to attend to before this evening and better be on my way.”

Lord Danford bowed then made to show himself out. Gillian followed him into the entryway. “Lord Danford, I must ask, is perhaps one of those matters of business to visit a tailor?”

He smiled as he reached forth and tweaked her nose. “I am afraid not, my love, but soon enough.”

“Oh drat!” she exclaimed with annoyance, her lovely face twisting into a scowl. “Just try to pick the least horrendous outfit you can manage for tonight then.”

“But your mother won’t be present,” he pointed out.

“No, but my sister Phoebe will since she arrived with Aunt Miranda. She is a miniature duplicate of my mother in some regards.”

Lord Danford sighed. “I will try my best.”

***

Benedict walked into his study and nearly jumped a foot off the floor when he realized that Marcus, Griffin, and Warren were waiting for him, partaking of his fine brandy no less. “Who in the devil let you in here?” he asked angrily.

“Does it matter?” Griffin asked, pouring himself another generous measure of brandy.

Benedict walked over and snatched the decanter from his hands. “I will have to speak to my butler about letting such commonplace filth into my personal space without my consent.”

“Your insults are not going to save you,” Marcus said flippantly.

“What do you mean?”

Warren sat on the edge of Benedict’s desk. “We came to celebrate an early victory and to pen the letter we are going to give to your mother.”

Benedict looked frantically at the desk in front of him, grabbing several sheets of parchment and inspecting them to see what, if anything had been written on them. He was relieved to see that so far, all of them remained blank. Glaring irritatedly at his friends, he threw the papers down on the desk and said with confidence, “I hate to interrupt your celebrations, but victory will not be yours.”

Griffin brushed several loose papers aside and leaned forward on the desk. “After what we heard last night, I wouldn’t be so sure. You do know that if you wear anything besides the clothing we have given you, you automatically lose, don’t you?”

“Of course I know, and I have been extremely meticulous in following the rules. I told Gillian that I would visit a tailor only to placate her until after we are wed.”

Marcus snorted. “After you are wed? Are you meaning to tell me that your relationship with Lady Gillian has progressed to the level that allows a discussion of matrimony?”

Benedict gave a self-satisfied smile. “Indeed it has.”

“I’ll be damned,” Marcus retorted, his face registering his disbelief.

“Has her father truly given you permission?” Warren asked, just as in shock as Marcus.

“Not yet, but I believe he will before long.”

“Give me that brandy,” Griffin barked as he finished off the remainder of brandy that was in his sifter and held out his hand towards Benedict.

“Not happening,” Benedict said as he walked over to the sideboard and replaced the brandy. Once he had the liquor safely locked out of Griffin’s sight, he turned to his friend and said, “Not so confident in your victory anymore, are you?”

Griffin scowled. “You do remember that the bet is not won until you are engaged, correct?”

“Yes, Griffin, I do remember the terms of the bet very clearly. And as soon as I secure her father’s permission, the bann’s will be placed and our engagement announced.” The longer his friends were there, the more irritated Benedict got.

“You mean to tell us that Lady Gillian is a willing participant in all of this?”

Benedict looked at Warren strangely. “Of course she is.”

“But is she in love with you?” Marcus quipped.

Benedict paused long enough for Griffin to take the bait and attack. “She isn’t in love with you, is she?”

“I believe she is,” Benedict answered lamely.

“You believe she is?” Warren laughed. “A mere belief is not enough to win the bet. You not only have to get Lady Gillian to agree to wed you, you have to get her to fall in love with you as well. Remember?”

Benedict exhaled slowly. How was he supposed to refute that? Lady Gillian had never admitted her love for him, not even when he professed his love for her. But surely she did love him, right? Why else would she agree to wed him, an unfashionable suitor, if it wasn’t for love? Doubts started filling his once confident mind, making him unsure of where he stood with Lady Gillian after all.

“I take your silence to mean that you have failed to get Lady Gillian to fall in love with you,” Griffin pointed out with glee.

Benedict glowered at him. “She may not have admitted that she loves me yet, but I have until the end of the season, do I not? There is still time.”

“You are correct, there is time for you to convince her she is in love with you, but that also means that there is time for us to convince her otherwise. Isn’t Lord Evander besotted with the girl?”

“Leave Lord Evander out of this,” Benedict snarled.

“I don’t think so,” Griffin said as he smiled devilishly. “You know what they say—all is fair in love and war.”

“Get out,” Benedict demanded angrily. “All of you.” The three friends laughed at his ire.

“You are no fun since you’ve returned to London,” Marcus complained as he rose.

“Not since you issued your stupid bet. But I can assure you that once I have won, I will have copious amounts of fun taunting you as I select your brides. Or have you forgotten about that little stipulation?”

“If you think that I am going to sit back and let you decide who I will wed, you are more foolish than I thought,” Griffin spat angrily.

“Well, you did agree to the terms.”

Griffin turned his scorching gaze on Benedict and he wanted to laugh. “Are you afraid that I will pick Lady Adel? Or perhaps you are more concerned that I won’t.”

Griffin lunged for him, but Benedict stepped out of his way, causing Griffin’s fist to meet with the wall instead of his person. “I can’t have any of that, for it wouldn’t do to be sporting a bruise when I show up to Lady Gillian’s for dinner this evening. I have a feeling that tonight will be the night that the Duke of Chesley grants me permission to wed his daughter.”

But though he sounded confident to his own ears, as soon as his friends had left, his false confidence all but evaporated. He needed to try and get an admission of love from Lady Gillian posthaste. And not just for the sake of the bet, but because his own heart needed the reassurance.

It was hard for Benedict to feel confident as he headed to dinner with the Duke of Chesley when he was dressed in ill-fitting clothing, though he had managed to dress somewhat more conservatively than he had been as of late. He hoped his tamed attire would please Lady Gillian.

He took a deep breath as he approached the Bourne’s townhouse, then proceeded to bang the brass knocker against the door. When the butler answered, he was let in immediately and shown to the drawing room where he was instructed to wait for the family to join him. Benedict’s nerves were on edge as he waited, so many emotions going through his head. He was desperately hoping to seek the duke’s permission to wed Lady Gillian this evening, but more than he wished for her father’s permission, he wished for her love.

Benedict thought back through the few short weeks he had known her and admitted that he had unexpectedly fallen hard and fast for the girl. Right from the beginning he had been taken in with her beauty and had considered himself lucky that his friends had chosen such a tempting armful as the object of their bet. But as he got to know Lady Gillian, he soon realized that there was more to her than merely an attractive face. She was honest and bold, caring and thoughtful, and miraculously, she never seemed overly concerned with his abhorrent clothing.

But if truth be told, Benedict had fallen hopelessly in love with her the first time he had kissed her. He had kissed his fair share of women in the past, ranging from innocent and naïve debutantes to experienced and confidant Cyprians, but not a one of them had elicited the passion and protectiveness that kissing Lady Gillian had done. The minute his lips had met hers it was as if he had come home, and oddly enough, it was the first time since his return to London that he had felt as if that were true. He knew now that home would be wherever she was, whether that was here in London or traveling abroad. As long as she was by his side, he would always feel complete.

When the duke entered the library with Lady Gillian and a younger girl he presumed to be her sister, Benedict only had eyes for his love. She was dressed in a sage green gown with a delicate lace overlay. Her hair was swept up into an elegant style with a thick band of lace tied around her head. She looked beautiful.

“Is he deaf as well as unfashionable?” an obnoxious voice penetrated the fog that was surrounding his brain. Benedict shook his head and focused on the girl at Lady Gillian’s side.

“Hush, Phoebe, do not be rude. You do not have to put voice to every thought that strolls through your head.”

“You are beginning to sound exactly like mother!” the girl called Phoebe exclaimed with disgust.

Benedict stepped forward and bowed before the girls. As he rose, he turned towards the duke. “Good evening, your grace.”

“Good evening to you, Lord Danford. We are delighted to have you join us for dinner tonight, but first, let me introduce you to my youngest daughter, Lady Phoebe.”

Benedict took the girls hand in his and kissed the air above her knuckles. “My sister told me that you have spent the last two years traveling abroad. I was trying to ask you which country was your favorite when we first entered, but you must have failed to hear me.”

Thankfully, Lady Gillian stepped forward and hooked her arm through his. “Oh do stop pestering Lord Danford, Phoebe. It was obvious he was preoccupied.”

“Yes, but with what?”

“I was preoccupied with what a vision your sister is, Lady Phoebe.”

Lady Phoebe giggled, “You’re as outrageous as Lord Evander said you would be.”

Benedict failed to see how his remark could be considered outrageous, but what concerned him even more was the fact that Lord Evander had had occasion to speak with Lady Phoebe. Had he come calling on Lady Gillian and had the opportunity to meet her little sister as well? The thought made him nervous and envious all at once.

He was just about to inquire about Lord Evander when a servant entered and instructed them to move to the dining room. Benedict and Lady Gillian followed the duke and Lady Phoebe into the room that was lit up with dozens of flickering candles. He assisted Lady Gillian into her chair before taking his seat across from her.

The first course of white soup was eaten mostly in silence, but when the duke began carving the leg of lamb that the servants had brought in, he also began firing off questions Benedict’s way. “How long were you out of the country?”