Unconventional Suitors 02 - Her Unconventional Hero (7 page)

“Yes, your family. I find myself somewhat curious about the man who insists on placing himself as my protector.”

“I don’t view myself as your protector,” he said irritably.

“Oh really? I thought your interest in me was purely as a protector of sorts, hoping to save me from the men who would only pursue me because of the generous dowry bestowed by my father.”
“Why do you fault me for being concerned for your happiness?”
Adel laughed sardonically. “I highly doubt your concern is for my happiness, my lord.”

“Your high opinion of me is flattering. If you must know, my concern is genuine. My mother died as well, not too long ago, and I fear that as a result, my only sister suffered miserably because of it.”

Adel was startled by his admission. Ignoring the reason for the conversation, she couldn’t help but ask, “Did you suffer as well?”

Her eyes searched his face, hoping to see some real emotion instead of the mask of impassiveness he always wore. He refused to meet her eyes, turning his head to stare out the side of the carriage instead. Several moments passed by and Adel was afraid her bold question had offended him. She was just about to make her apologies when he turned back to her, settling dark eyes upon her.

“No one could possibly understand how much I miss her.”

Adel sucked in a sharp breath, the raw pain in his eyes taking her off guard. For a moment she felt as if their mutual pain had blended together, bonding them in a completely unexpected way. She found herself admitting her own sadness to him in a voice barely above a whisper. “It’s the worst sort of pain I’ve ever experienced. I keep waiting for it to diminish, hoping time will dull the heartache, but it never does.”

“Sometimes it feels as if the pain is getting worse, not better. I thought that time was supposed to heal all things.”

His completely rare and unexpected vulnerability caught Adel so off guard she was nearly speechless. She had to keep telling herself that this vulnerable man beside her was the same arrogant man who proposed to her several nights ago, without the least display of emotion and in the most unromantic of fashions.

The sadness on his face was so foreign, so unexpected that Adel’s natural inclination was to reach for his hand and attempt to offer some comfort. Without even hesitating, she did just that, placing her gloved hand on top of his on the seat.

Lord Straton’s eyes dropped to their hands as a slow smile spread across his face, masking the sadness and pain. “How forward of you, my lady.”

Adel pulled back her hand as if she had been burned. How dare he take such an innocent gesture of comfort to mean anything more than what it was. Sliding across the seat, she put what distance she could between them, as her cheeks began to burn with anger and humiliation.

“Now, now, do not get all prudish on me, for I was simply jesting.” When she refused to look at him, Lord Straton slid across the seat and closed the gap between them. Cupping her cheek in his hand, he gently pulled her gaze back to his. “Forgive me, my lady. I should not have ruined your polite gesture by my snide comment. Your concern is very touching.”

Adel searched his eyes as she breathed in the scent of soap on his hands. His touch was making her face feel as if it was on fire, though the air outside was brisk. She shivered under his touch.

“Are you cold?” he asked with genuine concern.

She shook her head no then somehow managed to find her voice. “Why me?”

Lord Straton startled slightly but he didn’t remove his hand from her face. “Whatever do you mean?”

“There are plenty of ladies of the ton who have lost their mother. Why aren’t you coming to their aide and trying to rescue them from unhappy marriages?”

Adel regretted that her question caused him to withdraw, not only his hand from her face, but his emotions as well. She watched as his unguarded demeanor was replaced with the usual stoic mask he wore, and she suddenly felt sad.

“I cannot answer that.”

Griffin played Lady Adel’s question over and over in his mind. Though it had been several days since she had asked him why he felt the need to protect her and not any other motherless ladies of the
ton
, he still hadn’t been able to answer the question, at least not to his satisfaction, and it bothered him immensely. From the minute he had been introduced to her and learned that her mother had passed away, he had felt a protective urge well up within him. But why?

He hated that he couldn’t easily explain his own actions, to himself nonetheless, let alone to her. She had asked a simple and honest question, and he hadn’t been able to give her any answer, none at all. It galled him to no end.

Griffin surveyed the ballroom telling himself he was looking for his friends, when in all actuality he knew he was looking for her. Lady Adel and Lady Katherine had not been in attendance at the last three balls he had attended, and he was starting to worry that something might be wrong. Of course there was always the possibility that they had chosen to attend different balls or routs, but it concerned him regardless.

A thrill shot through his heart when his eyes finally settled upon Lady Adel dancing with a man he did not know. She must have arrived when he was dancing that last set and had somehow missed her. It took everything in him to wait patiently while her dance finished so he could go claim her for the next set.

The smile she bestowed upon him as he approached literally took his breath away. She was so beautiful. Her skin appeared radiant and her green eyes were sparkling delightfully. Her rich auburn hair was piled high on her head in a mass of never-ending curls, an ivory ribbon woven throughout. He let his eyes slide over her curvaceous body that was made for loving, and he felt himself growing warm.

He had to force his improper thoughts down so that he could approach her and not make a cake of himself. His eyes settled on her berry tinted lips as he drew near and he almost stumbled. They were slightly parted and dewy, practically taunting him to kiss them. He closed his eyes and very nearly groaned aloud.

“Good evening, Lord Straton. How do you do?”

He opened his eyes slowly and forced himself to look into her eyes and not at her tempting lips. “I am well. Would you honor me with a dance?”

Opening the fan that was hanging around her wrist, Lady Adel began speaking as she fluttered the contraption back and forth. “I would be delighted to dance with you, perhaps later. I find I am in need of some fresh air at the moment. It was all I could do to keep up with the steps of the last dance and at the same time keep Sir Benton from stepping on my toes.”

Griffin extended his arm towards her. “Then please, allow me to escort you out into the gardens.”

Lady Adel lowered her fan and looked at him nervously. “I am not sure that would be wise.”

“Do you not trust yourself to resist my obvious charms?”

“It is you I do not trust, not myself, my lord.”

Griffin pretended not to be bothered by her comment. “I give you my word that I will behave. We will go out long enough for you to get the fresh air that you need then we will return at once to the ballroom.”

He watched as her eyes scanned the room nervously while he waited for her to make up her mind. Finally, she took his offered arm and said, “Very well, but let us be quick.”

Several couples were scattered throughout the lush gardens as they made their way on the moonlit path. The chill in the air felt delicious as it caressed their heated skin. Griffin was glad that Lady Adel had suggested the outing. He led her to a stone bench nestled against the box hedge and waited for her to sit.

Staring at the small space next to her, he debated whether or not he should attempt to sit there. He finally decided that perhaps it would be less awkward than standing before her, towering above her as she sat. He lowered himself next to her, trying to ignore how his body brushed up against her side as he did so.

Leaning forward on his forearms, he turned his head towards her. Lady Adel’s head was tilted towards the moon. He took the opportunity to observe her and noticed her lips were moving silently, as if she were talking, though not a peep could be heard.

“Did you say something?” he asked curiously.

She turned to him, and even in the dark he could tell that she was blushing. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I was just…” her sentence trailed off as she reached her hands up to cover her face.

Griffin reached over and removed her hands from her face. “Do not be embarrassed.” She nodded but did not attempt to return to her explanation.

Griffin decided to pry. “Were you asking me a question? Because if you were, I must apologize, for I did not hear it.”

“No, I wasn’t talking to you.”

“But you were talking?” his eyebrow was raised in curiosity.

She hesitated before speaking, though she didn’t look at him as she did so. “I was talking to my mother. I guess it is habit. I always find the brightest star in the sky and pretend it is her, and I talk to her sometimes. I honestly hadn’t realized I was doing it until you caught me. Silly, I know.”

Griffin watched her swallow and knew she was trying to keep her emotions at bay. “Look at me,” he urged. Slowly she turned to him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. His heart clenched to see her pain still so raw, and he knew her eyes mirrored his own heart. For though he kept it hidden deep inside, his own sadness could be felt to his very core, mixed with an anger he found absent in her.

“I think I can finally answer your question,” he said, surprising even himself.

“Which question would that be, my lord?”

“Why you? I’ve thought about it a dozen times since you asked me, and it wasn’t until now that I realized the answer.”

When he fell silent she asked, “Are you going to enlighten me?”

He nodded, feeling suddenly and uncharacteristically shy. “You remind me of myself.” When she looked at him skeptically, he hurried to continue with his explanation. “The pain of losing a dear loved one is hard to comprehend unless you can relate, and for various reasons, not everyone experiences sadness to the same degree. But,” he said as he patted his chest right above his heart, “you and I feel it deeply, profoundly, and it has changed who we are. That is why I feel so protective of you, because I see in you something that I recognize in myself, and I want to comfort you. I do not want you to ever experience anymore pain than you already do. I do not want you to end up like my sister.”

“Tell me about your sister.”

Griffin’s hands balled into tight fists, as he looked straight ahead and recalled the sad tale. “Rose is six years younger than I and loved my mother as much as I did, if not more. Our mother’s death was unexpected and sudden. She was riding her horse one morning, as she always did, when something spooked her mare, causing it to throw her from its back. She landed at an odd angle, breaking her neck. She died instantly. At least that’s what we like to believe, for neither Rose nor I could bear the thought of her writhing in pain, all alone and suffering until she died.”

Lady Adele sucked in a shocked breath, her hand coming to rest upon his arm. Griffin ignored her touch as he continued, “My father, the Earl of Westingham, didn’t even have the gall to act sad about her passing, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. He has always been like that—cold and unfeeling. He barely allowed Rose and me to mourn her for the respectable period before he was forcing Rose to wed the first man who offered for her. She was barely eighteen when she married the Baron Moncreif, an ancient widower whose property borders our family estate. She never got to experience a season, to dance and flirt with men her own age and to feel young and free.”

“Did you she tell your father that she wanted a season?”

Griffin looked at her and scoffed, “You don’t understand, it wouldn’t have mattered if she had. My father has never given a fig for what anyone wants but himself. It suited his needs to wed off his only daughter so he would not have to deal with her, so that is what he did. He’s the most selfish man I know, and I hate him.”

“Oh, Lord Straton, do not speak so. Your anger is more than understandable, but surely you do not hate him.”

Griffin turned intense eyes on her, “You don’t know my father. There is nothing good or kind in him and I highly doubt he has ever loved anyone besides himself—not his wife and certainly not his children.”

“Perhaps he truly thought he was doing what was best for your sister.”

Griffin had to turn away from the look of pity she was giving him because he couldn’t stand it, not when it was concerning his father. “Marrying Rose off to a man twice her age was most certainly not in her best interest. And it’s just not a matter of age, for her
husband
,” he bit out the word acerbically, “is perhaps the most selfish, hateful man, next to my father of course, I have ever had the displeasure of being acquainted with.”

By the time he had finished, Griffin was breathing hard. He had not shared so much of his deepest feelings with another soul perhaps ever. Part of him felt shame at the things he had revealed to Lady Adel, but a small part of him felt an odd relief at opening up about the things that felt like they were threatening to destroy his soul.

Perhaps hate was a strong emotion, but he felt like without it, he’d be forced to admit that somewhere, hidden by years’ worth of scars, there was a tiny speck of love for his father buried inside of him. The possibility frightened him more than the burgeoning hate. For admitting he loved someone who would never love him back was far too frightening of a possibility.

“Lord Straton,” Lady Adel’s soft voice pulled him back to the present. “I’m sorry…”

He was quick to interrupt. “Do not apologize, for none of this is your fault.”

Putting her hand up, she stopped him. “You didn’t let me finish. I’m sorry for misjudging you. Perhaps in my assessment of your character I have been too harsh. Can you forgive me?”

A slow smile stole across his face, “If you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“Of course. Perhaps we can be friends after all.”