Unconventional Suitors 01 - Her Unconventional Suitor (4 page)

“Such as?” she asked, honestly curious as to what could have consumed him so fully that he had been completely oblivious to the weather.

He looked down on her and gave her a pitying look. “Lady Gillian, a true lady never asks a gentleman about his business. It’s none of her concern. You should be occupying your time with the frivolous pursuits of the fairer sex, such as they are.”

Gillian felt her ire rise at his condescending tone of voice. Obviously her favorable first impression of him hadn’t been quite on target. “And what, pray tell, would you consider the frivolous pursuits of the fairer sex to be?”

“Well, shopping for starters, which I can see you already excel at. Then there are dinner parties to plan, needlework to be done, with the occasional painting thrown into the mix.”

No matter that he had just described several occupying pursuits of her gender, it galled Gillian to think that Lord Stephen expected nothing more out of a woman. “How shameful if you think that is all a woman is good for,” she huffed with disgust.

One eyebrow arched as a wicked grin splayed on his face. “Oh no, my lady, I can assure you that I think a woman is good for at least one more thing.”

Gillian’s cheeks flamed at his insinuation. “How dare you!” she stammered, feeling highly uncomfortable by his bold and inappropriate response.

“You, my lady, were the one who asked. Do not look so stunned that I was courteous enough to answer your inquiry.”

Gillian was fuming by the time Lord Stephen returned her to her mother’s side. She needed to dance and converse with a proper gentleman now, so as to dispel the vile feeling Lord Stephen had left her with. How had she judged his character so incorrectly?

***

“Well that went well,” Benedict said sarcastically as they watched Lady Gillian’s retreating form. Her mother, the duchess, had moved to a chair to give her feet a rest while watching her daughter dance.

“At least I wasn’t the only one she insulted,” Warren pointed out.

“Just give it time,” Griffin advised. “I’m sure she will find plenty more offensive things to say about Benedict the more time she gets to spend in his company.”

“Speaking of offensive, where is that horrible quizzing glass we gave you?” Marcus asked.

Benedict had been hopeful they wouldn’t bring it up.

“Pull it out, man, and start using it,” Griffin commanded. “I’m sure Lady Gillian will find it irresistible.”

“Not likely,” Benedict muttered as he pulled the dratted thing from his suit pocket. Holding the thing to his eye, he leaned over and inspected Griffin’s shoulder. “I believe I see a spot on your otherwise impeccable tailcoat.”

Griffin scowled at him, not even bothering to look at the spot he was inspecting. “You do not need to act the part of an irritating half-wit in my presence. Save it for your beloved.”

“My beloved?” Benedict snorted. “I see the wisdom in your plan, selecting a beauty that will undoubtedly be highly sought after, but how do you honestly expect me to get the girl to fall in love with me when she has every eligible male, and even some married ones, vying for her attention?”

“Not my problem,” Griffin said with a smile.

“Of course it’s not. It only becomes your problem if I win your stupid bet and get to select your bride in return.”

“Not going to happen,” Griffin was still smiling assuredly.

It galled Benedict to no end to know that his friends gave him no credit. His competitive spirit flared up and his desire to win the blasted bet only increased. Of course, it had nothing to do with the beautiful Lady Gillian, or so he told himself.

“What in tarnation is she doing now?” Griffin cursed.

Benedict looked to the dance floor, quickly spotting Lady Gillian, fully expecting to see her doing something foolish. He was confused to see that nothing was amiss; she was still dancing with Lord Stephen. “What do you mean? She’s merely dancing, just as she was moments ago.”

“But she’s dancing with that blackguard, Lord Flynn.” Griffin’s eyes narrowed into angry slits as his hands balled into fists at his sides.

It was clear that Griffin wasn’t talking about Lady Gillian, for the girl was still dancing with Lord Stephen. Benedict scanned the ballroom, but he wasn’t entirely sure who Lord Flynn was. Turning towards Warren, he asked, “Who is Lord Flynn?”

“That
blackguard
dancing with Lady Adel.”

Benedict watched with amusement as, at the mention of Lady Adel’s name, Griffin stalked off across the dance floor, presumably to intrude upon her dance with Lord Flynn. For the girl’s sake, Benedict hoped that Griffin would not make a scene.

“For not being interested in the chit, he’s awfully protective of her,” Benedict observed dryly.

Both Marcus and Warren nodded their agreement, but otherwise didn’t comment. Fortunately for Lord Flynn’s own safety, the dance soon came to an end and the gentleman began escorting their partners off of the floor.

Benedict’s eyes settled on Lady Gillian as she walked around the perimeter of the room with Lord Stephen. It would be wise for him to try and discover what type of girl she was so he could know what skills he should employ in his attempt at wooing her. He analyzed her body language, from the way she nervously fidgeted with her fan, to the restless way she nibbled on her bottom lip when she wasn’t speaking, and it became apparent, at least to him, that she wasn’t as confident as she seemed.

He was mildly amused at the heated way she spoke to Lord Stephen, the color blooming on her cheeks betraying her discomfort. Soon, Lord Stephen delivered her to her mother, bowing curtly to her before retreating stiffly away.

“Go ask her to dance.” Marcus said as he nudged him forward.

Benedict grinned. It was the first command his friends had made that he actually wished to fulfill.

Gillian watched with trepidation as Lord Danford approached. He was not exactly the dashing gentleman that she had been hoping would seek her out. She pasted a smile on her face, hoping he couldn’t see her disappointment.

“May I claim you for the next dance?” he asked, standing directly in front of her, his imposing figure thwarting her own tallish stature.

“Certainly,” she said politely as she hesitantly took the earl’s proffered arm and allowed him to escort her once more to the dance floor. The orchestra struck up a waltz and she began to look nervously around the room.

“Is everything well, my lady?”

For a moment she debated whether she should lie to him and tell him that their host had not given her permission to waltz, but she instantly dispelled the idea, for dishonesty had never truly suited her. Instead, she looked into his face and blurted out the truth, “I have never waltzed with anyone besides my dance instructor before.”

She watched as his face broke out into a smile and wanted to cringe for making a fool of herself. Why did she always feel compelled to speak so boldly? Had her mother overheard her, she surely would have reprimanded her, telling her that a lady never admits to her shortcomings, but rather puts on an air of confidence and performs whichever task is presented to her to the best of her abilities. The only comfort she could find was in the fact that at least she hadn’t admitted her defect to a potential suitor.

Lord Danford lifted her hand and placed it on his shoulder, taking her other hand in his own while his arm went securely around her back. He began effortlessly leading her about the room. “Do not worry, I promise not to judge you harshly. Besides, I haven’t danced the waltz for two years myself.”

Something about his kind reply allowed her to relax slightly in his arms. “Did you miss dancing while you were away?”

Lord Danford was quiet for a moment before speaking. “Not entirely,” he finally admitted truthfully.

“Tell me about your travels. Where did you go?” she found if she was speaking with him, she wasn’t as worried about missing a step.

“All over Europe. I started in France and eventually made it as far east as Greece before being summoned back to England.”

“Who summoned you? Why did you return?”

“My mother did. She informed me that my father had passed away and that I was now the new Earl of Danford. I was required to come back and accept the title and the responsibilities that go with it.”

“Oh,” she gulped, wondering if he would be offended that she had asked. She looked up into his steel gray eyes hoping to decipher his feelings. He was looking down at her with a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He didn’t appear bothered by her question so she decided to inquire further. “Do you miss it? The traveling, I mean.”

“But of course, every day,” he replied, his eyes lighting with longing. “But that is in the past, and it’s best I do not dwell on it.”

“But it doesn’t have to be in the past,” she pointed out sensibly. “You could always resume your travels once you have wed. Your man of affairs could see to your estate while you and your wife do as you please.”

“You make it sound so simple,” he said with a laugh.

“Well isn’t it?” she asked, unsure if he was making fun of her or not.

Staring at her intently, he replied, “Nothing in life is as simple as it seems.”

“No, I suppose it isn’t, though sometimes I think we complicate it needlessly.”

“Spoken wisely,” he agreed. “I’ve always been a firm believer of that principal.”

Gillian was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Lord Danford and, before she knew it, she was admitting it to him. “You are much easier to converse with than Lord Stephen.”

“Oh really?” he asked, one brow cocked.

“His conversational skills are poorly lacking, as are his manners.”

“Did he say something that upset you?” Lord Danford asked sincerely.

True to her impetuous nature, Gillian didn’t even hesitate before blurting out, “He informed me, in rather poor taste, that in his estimate women are only good for planning dinner parties and balls, shopping, and…you know…” she stammered, suddenly feeling flustered.

She faltered in her step, crushing Lord Danford’s foot in the process. She inhaled sharply as he pulled her close, quickly correcting her stumble and easing her along.

Once they had comfortably resumed dancing, Lord Danford asked, “The cad had the indecency to tell you that women were only good for—”

“Shhh,” she hissed, cutting him off. She looked around the room nervously hoping that nobody could hear what they were discussing. “This is not decent conversation, my lord.”

“No, it certainly isn’t. I will call Lord Stephen out for speaking so offensively to you and wounding your delicate sensibilities.”

Gillian couldn’t help herself—she giggled. “I’m not entirely delicate, you should know, but his implication that—”

“Wait, are you saying that Lord Stephen merely implied that woman were good for, well, for…you know?” It was now his turn to stammer as he avoided looking into her eyes.

“Yes, but it was obvious what he was speaking about. He didn’t need to spell it out for me to know.”

“How in the blazes do you know about what goes on between a man and a woman?” He was looking at her now, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Though she knew his question was improper, she couldn’t help defending herself. “My mother found it necessary to inform me of such…relationships before my entrance into society. Since I am expected to make a match this season, I assume she found it pertinent that I know.”

“Well do me a favor,” he spoke as his face lowered towards hers. A strange chill coursed down her body, causing her toes to curl as his warm breath hissed in her ear. “Do not admit your knowledge of such a subject to any other gentleman besides the man you will someday wed. Understood?”

“Do men prefer women with no knowledge of such things?” she asked innocently, her eyes searching his for clarification.

“No,” he blurted out. “I mean yes…I mean, let’s cease this conversation now and not speak of it again.”

“Ever?”

His eyes lowered to her lips and she watched as he moistened his own lips with his tongue. Oddly enough, her toes curled once more. “My lord, you failed to answer my question.”

His eyes snapped up to hers. “We can speak of it again, in the future, if such need ever arises, but fiend seize it, do not speak of it to another gentleman again, understood? This type of conversation has an unsettling affect on a man.”

“Yes, I can see that,” she grinned.

When the dance ended, Lord Danford was still flustered. She hooked her arm around his elbow so he could escort her back to her mother, only, he didn’t deliver her to her mother at all. He strolled right past her, without so much as glancing in her direction and only came to a stop when he approached Lords Dawkins, Straton, and Mr. Graham.

“I hate to point out the obvious, but my mother is standing over there,” she said as she gestured one gloved hand to where her mother was standing, her mouth agape and confusion marring her brow.

“Ah Beni,” Mr. Graham said, slapping the earl on the shoulder, “has your time abroad made you forget about the rules of social propriety?”

Lord Danford’s eyes darkened. “Beni? To whom are you referring?”

Mr. Graham looked at the earl as if he had gone mad. “Why you, of course. It has been your nickname since you were a lad, remember?”

Gillian giggled behind her fan. It was obvious that the earl was quite discomfited by his friend’s intimate address. The poor man seemed to have a problem keeping his composure.

“Are you laughing at my expense?” Lord Danford asked her boldly, his eyes narrowing upon her.

Her eyes widened and her mouth formed an “o.” “Of course not, my lord, I would never do such a thing.”

“Somehow I do not believe you,” he scowled.

Lord Dawkins grabbed two glasses of lemonade off of the table next to him. He offered one of them to Gillian, which she took. “Believe me when I say, if you think him amusing now, you should have seen him before we attempted to aid him in his transition back into society.”

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked curiously.

“His clothing, for example.” Lord Dawkins paused long enough to take a deep swallow of his lemonade, “they were horrendously out of style before we so graciously stepped in to help him.”