Unconventional Suitors 01 - Her Unconventional Suitor (3 page)

The swooshing of silk skirts alerted Benedict that somebody was moving towards him. Turning his head, he saw a plump girl with bright red hair sidling up to him. She was batting her eyes in an attempt to appear coquettish, but the attempt failed entirely. Instead the poor chit appeared as if she had something in her eye.

As she neared, her chaperone stepped from behind her to make introductions. “Good evening, my lord. I’d like to introduce you to my niece, Miss Helen Featherstone.”

Benedict bowed politely. Miss Featherstone’s eyes began twitching unbecomingly as she continued her awkward attempts to appear seductive. Benedict decided to forgo his own introduction and instead said, “Pardon, my lady, but it appears as if you have something in your eye. Perhaps your aunt should escort you to the retiring room so you can see to it.”

The poor miss blushed a deep red that put her hair to shame. Benedict took the opportunity to turn away, not waiting to hear what she would say. Drawing close to Griffin, he leaned in and whispered, “Please have mercy on me, and do not match me with that chit.”

Griffin looked towards the girl that Benedict was indicating with his eyes. “Oh no, for that would be far too easy. A lady of that quality would not hesitate to ignore your social awkwardness and state of dishabille. I think she would be most anxious to receive your attentions and flattered by your offer of marriage. No, that wouldn’t do at all.”

Benedict sighed in relief.

“What about her,” Marcus asked, pointing his head in the direction of a rather sturdy looking lady who had to be at least several inches taller than any of them. “She’s an amazon.”

“Too easy.” Griffin brushed away his suggestion with those two simple words.

Benedict’s anxiety was growing by the second. He wasn’t sure if it was due to all the stares he was receiving or due to the fact that any second now, his comrades were going to decide upon his future bride. Neither scenario was particularly comfortable.

“What about Lady Claire?” Warren questioned, looking in the direction of a rather plain woman in a fashionable blue dress.

Marcus inspected the girl several seconds before saying, “I do believe that Claire St. Claire has a nice ring to it.”

“Yes,” Warren agreed with a straight face, “very proper sounding.”

Marcus’s face broke out in a grin.

“I realize that this is all very humorous to you, but let me remind you that it isn’t just my future you are talking about—remember that if I win the bet, it will be I on the other side of the table, picking out your brides for you, and I promise I won’t be merciful. So, choose wisely,” Benedict threatened.

“Ah, gentlemen, I think I have found our winner.” Griffin said with a self-satisfied look on his face, ignoring Benedict’s growing agitation.

Benedict quickly tried to determine where Griffin was looking, but all he could see was a group of several young bucks gathering in the opposite corner of the room.

“Who is she?” Warren asked, craning his head to get a look.

“None other than the Duke of Chesley’s oldest daughter, Lady Gillian.”

The daughter of a duke? That sounded promising, Benedict thought as he continued to struggle to see the girl.

“I don’t believe I have been introduced to her,” Warren admitted. “Where is she?”

“Over in the corner, thronged by all those anxious suitors. Care to be introduced to your future wife, Danford?”

Benedict had no choice but to nod. They slowly made their way across the room, the over-confident Griffin leading the way. Benedict squared his shoulders, deciding that appearing confident was perhaps the only thing he could do to bolster his appearance. He may be dressed like a fool, but that didn’t mean he had to carry himself as such.

His heart was beating frantically as they made their way towards the crush of people. His palms unexpectedly began to sweat. He wiped them discreetly on his breeches before they approached. Griffin shouldered his way past several gentlemen and, as the crowds parted, Benedict laid eyes on the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he wanted to curse. Of course Griffin would choose a diamond of the first water, for in no uncertain terms would he be able to woo her away from her many suitors dressed as he was.

His nerves were on high alert as they approached, his eyes taking in the girl before him. She was dressed in a white gown that was the height of fashion, perfectly designed to mold artfully to her lush curves. Of course she was a debutante, Benedict thought, for it was highly improbable that the siren would have made it through her first season without an offer of marriage. Or several. She was a tempting armful to be sure.

Her sleek chocolate-brown hair was swept on top of her head in a pile of curls, with one thick ringlet hanging over her right shoulder. Her eyes, the same color as her hair, seemed to shrewdly take in all of her surroundings, while her animated face registered delight.

Griffin approached her mother, taking the lady’s hand in his own, he bowed before her. “Duchess of Chesley, it’s a delight to see you this evening.”

“Lord Straton, the pleasure is all mine. How is your father doing?”

Griffin straightened. “He is doing well, thank you for asking, though he prefers to spend his time in the country since my mother passed away.”

“God rest her soul,” the duchess spoke reverently. Then, propelling her daughter forward, she said, “I know it has been several years since you have been to Penwitch House, but you must remember our eldest daughter, Gillian.”

Benedict watched as Griffin gently kissed the top of Lady Gillian’s gloved hand. “Of course I remember. How could I ever forget such a lovely face?”

Lady Gillian smiled radiantly.

“Allow me to introduce you to my friends. This,” he said, indicating Warren, “is Lord Dawkins.”

“Where do you hail from, Lord Dawkins?” Lady Gillian asked politely as he took her hand in his and bowed over it.

“London, of course,” Warren replied.

“Oh, how unoriginal,” she exclaimed, much to everybody’s chagrin, as she pulled her hand back.

“Gillian Bourne,” the duchess scolded, whacking her lightly on her arm with her fan. “Just because your brain entertains a thought, it does not mean that you are required to put a voice to it. Lord Dawkins has no control over where he hails from. I insist you apologize at once.”

Curious, Benedict watched Lady Gillian’s face for a reaction. At the very least, he expected her cheeks to bloom with color at her mother’s scolding, but they did no such thing. Instead, a small twitch formed at the corners of her mouth, as if she were struggling to keep from smiling.

Raising her fan to cover her face, she said, “My apologies, Lord Dawkins. I truly did not intend to insult you. I myself hail from London as well.”

“Apology accepted, my lady,” Warren quickly replied.

Lady Gillian continued to hold her fan in front of the lower half of her face, presumably to block an ill-timed smile and avoid more of her mother’s scolding, but Benedict regretted that the blasted contraption blocked his view of her full lips, lips that were the color of his favorite raspberry jam. He briefly wondered if they would taste just as scrumptious.

“And this gentleman here is Mr. Graham.” Marcus stepped forward and bowed over her hand.

“Are you by chance related to the lovely Miss Serena Graham?” Lady Gillian asked excitedly, finally lowering her fan from her face.

“It depends on the purpose of your inquiry,” Marcus said, a twinkle in his eye.

“I’ve just had the pleasure of meeting Miss Graham tonight and I found her to be quite delightful.”

“Then I suppose I will claim her,” Marcus smiled. “Miss Graham is indeed my sister.”

Lady Gillian clutched her gloved hands together and squealed, “Oh, I knew it. She has your same eyes and the family resemblance is really quite striking.”

“Yes,” Marcus drawled, “we have all been fortuitously blessed with superior family traits, though I claim to be the best looking of the lot.”

Lady Gillian just giggled, seemingly entertained by Marcus’s easy manner. And for once, Benedict wished that Marcus would continue talking. He was not anticipating his introduction to the beautiful girl, but all too soon, the moment had arrived.

Griffin gently guided Benedict over to Lady Gillian with his hand. “And lastly, may I introduce you to Benedict St. Claire, the new Earl of Danford.”

Gillian watched as Lord Danford took a step forward, standing before her. The first thing she noticed were his striking gray eyes as she craned her neck to look up into his face. There was no denying that the earl was a very handsome man, from his dark, albeit unfashionably styled hair, to his equally thick and dark brows. His skin was tanned beyond what was considered fashionable, but it only seemed to enhance his handsome visage.

Her eyes quickly scanned over his person, looking away from his chiseled face to inspect the rest of him. His broad shoulders seemed as if they were stuffed into his outdated tailcoat, the seams bursting as if they might split. She unconsciously held her breath as he bent over her hand, waiting for something to rip. When he straightened, her eyes settled over his awkwardly tight breeches, causing her to blush. They left no doubt to the imagination that he indeed was a well-built male specimen.

Gillian lowered her eyes to the ground to hide her thoughts when she noticed that he was wearing a fine pair of black polished shoes. How odd, she thought, for his shoes were completely out of character with the rest of him.

When she felt her cheeks cool, her eyes returned once more to his face, a strangely handsome face that did not match the sorry clothing he wore. How strange that the fashionable and attractive Lord Straton would hold company with such a man.

“Lord Danford has just returned from traveling abroad. This is the first society event he has attended in over two years,” Griffin said by way of introduction.

“How kind of you to dress so fancifully for the occasion,” Gillian said wryly.

She watched as Lord Danford’s eyes widened in surprise, and she could have sworn she heard his friends chuckle.

“Gillian,” her mother was once more chiding her, “you really must learn to curb your tongue.”

Gillian smiled, wondering how many times this evening she would be able to upset her mother. But lest she completely offend any of the gentlemen present, she decided she ought to apologize. As she turned to Lord Danford to make her apologies, she felt somebody tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Lord Stephen looking at her eagerly.

“I have come to claim you for our dance,” he said as he offered her his arm.

The simple apology she had been ready to offer disappeared from her thoughts as she looked at Lord Stephen.“How delightful.” Then, turning her head to address the other gentlemen she said, “It was a pleasure to meet all of you. Until next time.”

The men she had just been introduced to were all but forgotten as Lord Stephen led her onto the dance floor where a country dance was just beginning.

Lord Stephen was the second son of a duke and very much considered a dandy. He was the polar opposite of Lord Danford, from his fair hair and pale skin, to his perfectly cut clothing that were the height of fashion.

“Are you enjoying your season thus far?” he asked as they came together in the dance.

“Very much so.”

“It’s no surprise really, seeing as you are the belle of the ball.”

Feeling flattered, Gillian smiled her most radiant smile at the man before they separated once more. So far her first season had been everything she had hoped and dreamed it would be. After being presented to the Queen, her mother had thrown her a coming out ball that rivaled any coming out ball ever before given. Her father had spared no expense for the occasion, marking it as one of the events of the season.

Ever since she was a little girl, Gillian had dreamed of her coming out. She imagined all of the fancy ball gowns she would wear and all of the suitors who would vie for her affections, and so far, she was not disappointed. Her modiste, Madame Gillrey, had fashioned a plethora of irresistible gowns for her, mostly in white and other pastels as was fitting a debutante, and she and her mother had spent countless hours shopping for the perfect accessories to complete each ensemble. Her mother even lent her some of her most stunning jewels for the events she attended, causing Gillian to take great pride in her appearance.

And it was apparent that her dance partner, Lord Stephen, did the same.

As soon as the dance ended, Lord Stephen hooked her arm in his and slowly began circling the room. “I must compliment you on your excellent taste in fashion, my lady. You are the envy of every lady present.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

A long silence ensued and Gillian was unsure of what to say to break it. Her mother was constantly warning her to give careful consideration to what she said, something she had been trying, mostly without success, to do her whole life. Sometimes, as was the case when meeting Lord Straton’s friends, she couldn’t seem to help herself, but other times, she found that her mind couldn’t think of a single worthwhile thing to say.

Walking around the outer edge of the ballroom with Lord Stephen seemed to be one of those times. Perhaps it was because he was just the type of man she had always envisioned her self marrying. He had a commanding presence and was confident and very pleasing to behold. For a moment, however, she wondered if he suffered from the same plight as she, for it seemed he couldn’t think of any matter upon which to converse either.

As the silence stretched on, it went from being comfortable to just plain awkward. Gillian searched her mind trying desperately to come up with a polite topic of conversation. She finally settled on the most mundane topics of all—the weather.

“I find that I am growing rather fond of the sunshine that we have been enjoying lately. How about you, Lord Stephen? Are you enjoying the warmer weather as well?”

“I can’t say that I’ve really noticed it, my lady.”

“Truly?” she asked in shock.

“Truly. There are other more pressing matters that have occupied my time as of late.”