Unconventional Suitors 01 - Her Unconventional Suitor (20 page)

Benedict was surprised at the compassion he felt well up in his chest at the sight of her tears. She was a woman who had cuckolded her husband and mothered his own father’s illegitimate child, a woman who had treated him with disdain and disfavor and not just because he was unfashionable, but because she was fearful of her own dark secrets being revealed. But regardless of all of that, he still felt pity for her, for the pain she had to be carrying around along with the fear of discovery all these many years.

“You came to visit my father many years ago and I was privy to a conversation between the two of you,” he explained softly. “I only heard your voice. I never saw your face so I had no way of knowing that it was you who was my father’s lover. That day I learned that my father had a bastard son and that he hadn’t always been faithful to my mother. It was perhaps one of the most devastating days of my life, learning what my father had done.”

“Many gentleman of the
ton
have lover’s and mistress’s; it’s just what they do,” she said by way of trying to excuse his father’s behavior, and her own.

Though Benedict could see that she was trying to assuage his grief, her response only angered him. “That is true, but my father had never been one of them. He and my mother loved each other.”

“But there was a time when she pushed him away, Lord Danford. Don’t you see that she was to blame as well?”

“I agree that she may have been unfair and perhaps even difficult to live with for a time, but she was grieving for the children she had lost and the children she would never bear. Her withdrawal and grief were no excuse for my father’s behavior. If she had ever found out about Anthony, she would have been devastated, heart-broken. I am certain it would have killed her.”

“I always wondered if she knew, and must admit I am relieved to hear that she does not. Lord Danford, I cannot go back in time and change the past; what is done is done, and there is no way around it. I am ashamed of my actions because I can see that they have caused you great pain, but I love my little Anthony with the fierceness of a mother’s love.”

“I understand that, I do, but do you not have a care for how this has affected anyone else? What about your own husband?”

The duchess sighed as her eyes, wet with tears, pleaded with his. “He does not know. He believes that Anthony is his, and I beg of you to keep the knowledge that he is not a secret. Please, Lord Danford, I am begging you not to utter a word of his illegitimacy to the duke. Anthony is the heir to the dukedom, if anyone finds out that he is not truly my husband’s son, he will no longer be heir. He will lose the inheritance that he deserves and everything—the title, the estate, will go to a distant cousin. Please, I beg of you not to do that to Anthony or to my husband.”

“And what of your own reputation? Haven’t you a care for that? I know how important appearances are to you.”

The duchess gave a curt laugh as her shoulders drooped, “Of course I care; I would not be a proper lady if I did not, but my first concern is for my husband and my son. You hold all of our futures in your hand, Lord Danford, and I urge you, with everything that is in me, to be gracious.”

Benedict thought about everything she had said and admitted that revealing her secret could do more damage than good. He had no wish to make Anthony suffer or to damage anyone’s reputation. He had only come seeking the truth, which he now had. “Your secret will remain safe with me, but only because I know the damage would be irreparable. I will not utter a single word of my knowledge of Anthony’s parentage to another living soul—”

The duchess brought her hands to her mouth and exclaimed, “Thank you, thank you, Lord Danford.”

Benedict put up his hand to stop her praises of gratitude. “I was not finished. As I was saying, I will not reveal the knowledge to anyone except for your daughter.”

“Gillian?” the duchess asked, clearly shocked. “By why ever would you feel the need to tell her?”

“Because she is to be my wife. Your husband granted me permission to wed her just last night, and I refuse to keep secrets from my wife, especially one so large.”

The duchess’s eyes widened in alarm, “But you cannot tell her, for she will think less of me, and—”

“That is something I am willing to risk. It will be one of the many consequences for your actions. Knowing Lady Gillian the way that I do, I am certain she will still love you, though she may be rightfully disappointed for a time. I will make sure that I swear her to secrecy as well. You can rest assured that your secret will not go any further than her and I.”

With her shoulder’s slumped in dejection, she finally muttered, “If that is what you feel must be done, then so be it.”

“Thank you. I love your daughter and I refuse to let secrets, ours or anyone else’s, come between us ever again.”

“Ever again?” she asked, one eyebrow raised in question.

“Suffice it to say that I have my own secrets to share with your daughter. I just hope that she can forgive me.”

“You and me both,” the duchess uttered sincerely, “you and me both.”

Griffin’s carriage thumped along the worn country roads on the familiar path to Stoneford Manor, the St. Claire’s imposing family estate. He had been to Stoneford Manor countless times over the course of his lifetime, but this was to be the first time he visited without Benedict being present. He had always had a deep admiration for the Dowager Countess of Danford, for she was a woman of refined strength that had overcome much sorrow in her lifetime, first with the loss of several unborn children and a temporary decline in her health as a result, and second with the unexpected death of her husband, whom Griffin knew she had loved dearly.

His thoughts were filled with relief as he traveled, grateful that he had spoken to Benedict before he had left to tell his mother about Anthony and had successfully convinced him to forgo telling her about his father’s secret. He wasn’t sure he would ever have been able to forgive himself if the dowager had found out about her husband’s affair, knowing he was the person to blame for provoking Benedict to divulge such hurtful information.

Several oak trees lined the drive leading up to Stoneford Manor, their leaves rustling lightly in the breeze. Griffin breathed deeply of the fresh country air, grateful to be free of the London smog, if only for a short while. As he approached the house, he alighted from his carriage and straightened his jacket, placing his beaver hat atop his head as he made his way to the door. The butler met him with a familiar smile, for the St. Claire’s had employed the same butler since his youth and the man knew Griffin very well.

“Ah, Lord Straton, it is always a pleasure to see you, though I suspect you know that Lord Danford is not here at the present,” the now gray-haired butler said by way of greeting.

Griffin gave the man a warm smile, “Yes, I am aware of that. I have actually come to speak with the mistress of the house, Lady Danford.”

Concern replaced the butler’s friendly demeanor. “Is everything well, my lord?”

“But of course. There is no need to concern yourself or the dowager countess with worry, for everything is well. I simply came to offer an explanation to her as well as my apology for an unfortunate matter that has affected her.”

The butler looked relieved. “Very good. I will show you to the drawing room and inform Lady Danford that you are here.”

Griffin followed the butler into the cream and peach drawing room and chose to remain standing instead of taking a seat on one of the dainty settees that flanked the fireplace. The room was almost as familiar to him as his own drawing room, he thought as he glanced around, noting not much had changed in the two years since he had been there.

“Lord Straton, what a surprise!”

Griffin turned and smiled as Lady Danford glided into the room. She appeared smaller than he remembered and much more frail. He wondered after her health, feeling guilty for the role he had surely played in her distress. He nearly ran to her side, taking her gloved hand in his own. Even through the thin fabric, he could tell that her hand was cold.

“You are looking as lovely as ever,” he lied.

She took her hand from his and laughed nervously as she patted her hair, “Oh Lord Straton, you’ve always been prone to exaggeration. If truth be told, I have not been feeling well as of late. That is why I have retired to the country.”

Griffin’s heart clenched as he offered her his arm and walked her to the settee. After she sat, he removed his hat and sat in the chair across from her. He waited patiently for her to ring for tea then made polite conversation while a young maid brought in the tea service as well as several small teacakes and laid them out before them.

Lady Danford served the tea, which Griffin took a quick sip of before setting his cup and saucer down in front of him. “Madam, I have to admit that I have ulterior motives in coming here today.”

Lady Danford raised her eyebrows as a small smile played across her lips, “Yes, I have deduced that for myself. It is not like you to pay a visit to a lonely widow out of concern.”

Though she said it without guile, Griffin felt her words slice him to the core. She was absolutely correct—this was the first time since she had become a widow that he had bothered visiting her. Of course he had come to pay the late earl his respect at his funeral nearly eight months ago and had briefly expressed his condolences to the dowager, but that had been the last time he had seen her since Benedict returned home. Suddenly he felt like a selfish, uncaring cad.

“Please forgive me, madam, for it seems I have more to apologize for than I had originally intended. As your son’s friend, I should have cared more for your well-being than I have. Can you forgive me?”

“Oh, Lord Straton, I did not mean to chastise you, but yes, you are completely forgiven. Now, tell me the true meaning behind your visit.”

Griffin reached for a perfectly shaped tea cake covered in a creamy yellow icing, adorned with a simple pink marzipan rosebud and popped it into his mouth, not because he actually wanted to consume the tasty confection, but because he was nervously trying to stall. It was not in his character to admit when he was in the wrong and apologize. It said a lot about his affection for Lady Danford, that he was swallowing his pride, along with the cake, and humbling himself enough to do just that. Perhaps it said something about his desire to make amends with Benedict as well, for he hated the thick tension that had enshrouded their friendship as of late and wished dearly to go back to their easy camaraderie and sibling-like affection.

Clearing his throat, he decided to forge ahead, “I came to apologize to you today for your son’s despicable actions as of late.”

“Did Benedict put you up to this?” she asked dryly.

“Not in the least. In fact, he was on his way here himself to explain things to you when I intervened and begged to come set things right myself.”

The dowager countess gave him a confused look, “But why would you feel the need to apologize for his actions? I do not recall a time when you have ever felt compelled to do so in the entirety of your friendship.”

That was very true, Griffin thought. “Because he only behaved in such a manner because I bet him to do so. The horrible clothing was my idea, not his.”

“Why ever would you have come up with such an absurd idea?” she asked, clearly flabbergasted.

Griffin suddenly felt like a young lad being scolded. He knew he had no rational explanation. Shrugging his shoulders sheepishly he responded, “Solely for entertainment purposes.”

“La!” she scoffed as she picked up one of the delectable tea cakes and held it in her hand as if she might throw it at him. “That is the lamest excuse I have ever heard. Are you meaning to tell me that you convinced my son to dress in a deplorable manner simply to amuse yourself?”

“Ye—yes,” Griffin stuttered hesitantly, nervously eying the cake in her hand.

“And let me ask. Were Mr. Graham and Lord Dawkins behind this absurdity as well? I know that it is rare for one of you to get involved in a scuff without the other’s involvement and encouragement.”

“Yes, madam, they were involved,” he admitted with a small amount of satisfaction. At least he didn’t have to shoulder the entire blame by himself.

Griffin watched as she lowered the cake to her lap, though her fingers tightened around the thing considerably. If she wasn’t careful, the cake was sure to crumble all over her skirt leaving a retched mess. “I thought you boys had outgrown such silly nonsense.”

He ducked his head slightly, “Apparently not, madam. Though, I think we have perhaps learned our lesson this time.” It was almost amusing how much Griffin felt like a little child in that moment, a very penitent little child.

“Let me ask you this, why would Benedict be so foolish to go along with your scheme? Surely he knew what a laughingstock he would become by parading amongst the
ton
in such a manner.”

“Well, it was I who urged him to do so, thinking it would be quite amusing.”

“I for one do not find it amusing in the least that his antics made it into Mrs. Tiddlyswan’s gossip column,” she said coldly.

“You are correct,” he stammered. “That was not amusing at all.” Her fingers were twitching around the poor teacake, making Griffin downright nervous.

“So you are meaning to tell me that Benedict played the part of a fool with the sole intent to amuse his friends? That does not strengthen my opinion of his character in the least.”

Griffin cringed ever so slightly. “He did not do it solely for our amusement, madam, he did it because I threatened to label him as a coward for life if he didn’t comply.” He purposely left off the fact that he had also threatened to expose his father’s awful secret to her if he didn’t accept the bet.

Lady Danford took a long, shaky breath, “I will never pretend to understand the way a man’s mind works. The whole thing is positively incomprehensible to me—such rubbish! But I will admit that your apology is somewhat comforting, as is your explanation. At least I know that Benedict isn’t fit for Bedlam, for I was truly concerned for a spell.”