Unconventional Suitors 01 - Her Unconventional Suitor (9 page)

Gillian reached up her hand and slapped him as hard as she could. His eyes widened in shock as his head rolled to the side. His hand went up to touch his reddened cheek, and she heard the sound of ripping fabric and watched as the seam on his shoulder split wide open, exposing his yellowed shirtsleeve beneath. Gillian would have laughed, had she not been so insanely angry.

“Don’t ever touch me again,” she warned as her voice shook.

“You could only be so lucky,” he retorted haughtily. Gillian would have slapped him again for his odious comment had he not quickly turned and exited the room, leaving her in a complete state of awe.

Warm tears welled up in her eyes as confusion settled into her being. She had thought he was a gentleman, a friend of sorts, but he was truly a cad. But if he was such a horrible devil, why did his touch excite her and leave her yearning for more of his seductive kisses?

Gillian dropped to the floor and began searching furiously for her lost hair pins. It was only because she had nothing else to compare it to, she reasoned. Perhaps if she experienced another gentleman’s kiss, Benedict’s would be forever erased from her mind and she could forget about the dreadful man forever.

Yes, she thought to herself, that was the solution. She rose from the floor with a new determination. She would forget about Benedict St. Claire if it was the last thing she ever did.

Benedict wasn’t surprised when Marcus arrived at his townhouse during the early morning hours. What did surprise him was the fact that it had taken him two days to make an appearance. It had been two days since Benedict had sent an invitation to Miss Graham asking her to accompany him to the theatre. She had promptly replied her acceptance, leaving Benedict to anxiously await Marcus’s arrival.

He was sitting in his study going through a pile of invitations, albeit a rather small one, when the door flung open, revealing a deadly looking Marcus. “What in the blazes do you think you are doing?”

Benedict casually twined his fingers together as he leaned back in his chair, giving Marcus an innocent look. “Responding to these various invitations, of course. What does it look like I am doing?”

Marcus lunged forward, his fists clamped tightly together as if he was prepared to strike him. “You know precisely what I am referring to, you nincompoop. You are supposed to be courting Lady Gillian, not my sister,” he hissed angrily.

Benedict cocked one brow, affecting an air of nonchalance. “Can I not do both?”

Marcus lunged at him then. His fist sliced through the air and landed a blow to Benedict’s jaw. Benedict’s head snapped back, but it only took a moment for him to react. Pouncing to his feet, he moved swiftly from behind his desk and threw his fist at Marcus’s face, making contact with his left eye.

Marcus cursed, bringing one hand up to his eye where a bruise was already beginning to form. “Recant your invitation to my sister. I will not allow her to be seen in your company.”

“You will not allow it?” Benedict scoffed. “You are not her guardian. I assumed your father had no qualms about her escorting me to the theatre when I received her positive reply. Stay out of it.”

“She is my sister, fiend seize it, and you are a—“

“Unfashionable half-wit? Yes, exactly what you idiots desired me to be, correct?”

“That’s not it,” Marcus stammered. “I know what you really are, and I forbid you to get near my sister. Your guise as a fool is just that, a ruse. You have a reputation with the ladies that precedes your return to England. You are a rake, a cad, a—“

“I am not but a man trying to win an asinine bet issued by his idiotic friends,” Benedict ground out between clenched teeth. “I am not seeking to ruin your sister, nor am I attempting to court her. My only wish is to make Lady Gillian jealous.”

For a moment Marcus was silent. When he finally spoke, his voice was skeptical. “You wish only to use my sister as a pawn in your game?”

Benedict felt uncomfortable when he put it like that. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, trying to ignore his throbbing jaw. “Marcus, I do not wish to hurt Serena. You know I would never do that. I think of her as a little sister, and I think you can rest assured that her feelings towards me are completely brotherly as well. I thought I was making progress with Lady Gillian but after…after we experienced a sort of catch in the road if you will, I had to think of something to push her along. I concluded that jealousy would be my tool, and your sister would be the perfect instrument. She could very well be one of the few ladies in London willing to be seen with me in public, for she remembers I wasn’t always such a pariah.”

Marcus exhaled long and loud. “I still do not like it,” he stated without yielding, the angry glower never leaving his face.

“Blast it all! I wasn’t asking for your permission, Marcus. Do you think I like the position you buffoons have put me in? If it wasn’t for Griffin threatening to break my mother’s heart, I would have never agreed to this vacuous plan. But, since you forced my hand, I will go to whatever lengths it takes to protect my mother and win Lady Gillian’s heart.”

“I will talk to Griffin,” he stated matter-of-factly as if that would lay matters to rest.

“It won’t do any good,” Benedict pointed out. “He’s possibly the most stubborn man in all of England. Besides, I do not wish to call the bet off now; for once I win, victory will be sweet. I cannot wait to torment you fools like you have tormented me. It will be sweet justice to dictate whom you will wed and then sit back and watch as your misery unfolds.”

Marcus glared at him, his jaw twitching angrily. “Do whatever you have to do,” he finally conceded, “but if you hurt Serena in any way, I will call you out. Mark my words.”

“Duly noted,” Benedict said respectfully. He could not fault a man for protecting his sister, whom he loved dearly. He imagined he’d feel the same way had he had one of his own.

With one final glare, the usual chipper Marcus turned on his heel and disappeared from the study, leaving Benedict standing in the empty room with nothing but a firm resolve to end the bet quickly and a bruised and throbbing jaw.

***

Gillian sat in Lord Evander’s private box at the Theatre Royal, highly anticipating the production of a new tragedy called
Fredolfo
. But even more than she anticipated the night’s performance, she was anticipating Lord Evander’s kiss.

Dressed in one of her favorite gowns, Gillian had gone to extra lengths to insure that she looked flawless. The lavender silk gown was draped in a sheer overlay, with a wide purple ribbon tied tightly beneath her bosom. The wide v neckline exposed a fair, yet still modest, amount of décolletage. She was wearing a strand of pearls that had been a gift from her father at her coming out. Her lady’s maid had curled her dark locks meticulously before piling them atop her head and weaving a thin ribbon throughout.

“I hope you do not mind me saying that you look exceptional tonight,” Lord Evander said as he leaned in closely.

Gillian smiled her most radiant smile. “But of course not, my lord,” she said before glancing quickly towards her mother sitting next to her to see if she was listening to their conversation. When it appeared she was not, she turned to him once more. “I think you look quite splendid yourself.”

Lord Evander appeared pleased. Gillian gave him a coy smile before returning her attention to the stage. Soon, the curtains were lifted and the production began. Gillian sat still the entire time, her eyes trained on the stage, but not really absorbing what was occurring. Instead, her mind was furiously trying to figure out how she could entice Lord Evander to kiss her and how she would do that with her mother as her chaperone.

Several times throughout the performance, Gillian peeked at her mother out of the corner of her eye, hoping and praying that she would drift asleep as she often did when they attended the theatre, but much to her great frustration, her mother seemed utterly and fully absorbed in the play. Gillian wasn’t exactly sure how she was going to entice Lord Evander to kiss her, but she did know it would not be possible with her mother present.

Letting out an imperceptible sigh of frustration, Gillian once more allowed herself to get lost in her thoughts. Ever since the night in the library when Lord Danford had branded her with his scorching kiss, she had thought of little else but the need to eradicate his touch from her memory. Actually, that was a lie—she had also spent an inordinate amount of time remembering the way his hands danced across her scalp, sending tingles from her head down to the tips of her toes. She also couldn’t seem to erase from her memory the way he tasted as his lips molded over hers with fervency.

Gillian shivered at the memory as Lord Danford intruded upon her thoughts for the millionth time since that fateful night. This was precisely why she needed to get Lord Evander to kiss her, so she could erase the vivid memories from her mind and replace them with new ones. Lord Danford had conceitedly proclaimed that no man would ever elicit such passion from her, and she was determined to prove him wrong.

In what felt like no time at all, it was intermission and to her great frustration, Gillian had still not concocted a feasible plan. As the curtains lowered, her mother rose regally from her seat. “If you will excuse me for a moment, I wish to go speak with Lady Tisdale before the play resumes.”

“But of course, madam.” Lord Evander rose and bowed politely as her mother exited the box.

Gillian watched her mother’s retreating figure with a sense of triumph—now was her time to act, she thought excitedly. She’d have to be quick if she wished to avoid her mother returning and catching her.

Gillian straightened her back as Lord Evander turned to her. “Are you enjoying the play, my lady?”

“Very much,” she lied as she batted her lashes slowly yet coquettishly at him.

Her heart beat wildly as Lord Evander smiled and surprised her by slipping his hand lightly over her gloved one. “As am I. Though I must confess, I have been so distracted by your presence I haven’t enjoyed it as thoroughly as I should have.”

Gillian’s pulse stilled in anticipation. Perhaps it would be easier to entice him to kiss her than she thought. She knew she only had a brief time before her mother returned, so she’d have to act quickly. She leaned close and lowered her eyes to his lips, “I hope you do not think less of me for admitting it, but I too have been distracted by your presence.”

Lord Evander audibly gasped as his head came closer. Gillian decided to help move things along and moved her face so that it was within inches from his and parted her lips slightly, anticipating his kiss. Before she knew what was happening, Lord Evander was pressing his lips gently against hers. Her first thought was elation at the fact that she had been successful in her goal, but the elation was short lived as it was soon replaced with a deep chasm of disappointment.

Lord Evander’s lips were cool and soft, but they elicited not even a spark of emotion from her. His kiss was passionless. In fact, she felt much like she did when she kissed her mother on the cheek. Gillian pulled back quickly at that thought, for surely it wasn’t proper to feel as if she was kissing her mother when receiving a gentleman’s kiss.

Lord Evander’s face broke out into a pleased grin as he searched her face for a reaction. Gillian tried to force a smile, but her lips felt paralyzed, and not by passion. She was about to apologize for her forwardness when a familiar voice intruded upon them.

“Pardon the interruption; it seems we have the wrong box.”

Gillian looked up at Lord Danford and cringed. He was standing in the entrance of their box with Miss Graham on his arm, a purplish bruise marring his jaw. She curiously wondered what had caused the injury as her face heated, but she would never give him the satisfaction of inquiring after his well-being. She desperately hoped he had not seen what had occurred between her and Lord Evander.

“Lady Gillian, how do you do?” Miss Graham asked politely, with a smile on her face.

Gillian normally liked the girl immensely, but seeing her on Benedict’s arm caused an angry jealously to surge suddenly and unexpectedly within her. Had he kissed Miss Graham the way he had her? The thought made her cheeks bloom with color.

“I am well, thank you,” she responded in clipped tones.

“I hope you are enjoying the play as much as Lord Danford and I,” she said, completely unaware of Gillian’s unbecoming feelings towards her.

Gillian forced her voice to sound light and flirtatious as she looked into Lord Evander’s eyes. “I have hardly paid any mind to the play, with such a distracting escort and all.”

Miss Graham giggled. Gillian looked lazily up at Lord Danford, hoping she had convinced him with her act. The earl’s eyes were dark as he bowed stiffly before them. “Again, I apologize for the intrusion; we will be on our way back to our own box and leave you to enjoy one another’s company.”

For some odd reason, Gillian felt guilty for giving him the wrong impression about her and Lord Evander, that is until he arose from his bow and his eyes quickly flickered towards her, giving her a shrewd perusal. Gillian felt as if he was undressing her with his eyes, and her body began to flush. How was it that the dratted man could illicit more feelings from her with a single look than Lord Evander could with his kiss?

Gillian sat back in her chair and folded her arms angrily across her chest. The man had ruined her for any other man, and that simply would not do. She’d just have to try harder to forget him, she concluded. But though she told herself that, her eyes, of their own accord, scanned the theatre, hoping to catch a glimpse of him and Miss Graham. And though she convinced herself that it was only to ensure that her friend was safe from the vexing man’s charms, she knew that was only partially true.

Benedict felt eyes boring into the back of his head for the remainder of the performance. He itched to turn around and see if it was Lady Gillian’s gaze causing his skin to burn, but he was afraid he’d be disappointed to learn that it was only Marcus glaring at him. His friend had escorted Lady Elizabeth to the theatre in an attempt to keep an eye on his sister, making sure that Benedict knew he was being watched closely so he’d remain on his best behavior. But what Marcus didn’t know, was that Benedict no longer had eyes for any other woman after having partaken of Lady Gillian’s tempting kisses.