Unconventional Suitors 01 - Her Unconventional Suitor by Ginny Hartman Read Free Book Online

wardrobe he’d had commissioned. He thought that Jonathan was going to have an apoplexy at his order, but the man wisely held his tongue.
    He pulled on a pair of mustard colored breeches that had the opposite problem as the ones from the prior evening—they were unfashionably loose, causing the wide fall to gape at his waist making it appear as if he had a ghastly thick midsection. The green jacket Jonathan helped him into smelled of moth balls. The overall affect was very unflattering indeed.
    Benedict glanced at the clock sitting on his mantel. His carriage was scheduled to arrive in five minutes, though why his friends thought it necessary to send one when he had a perfectly fine one of his own, was beyond him. No doubt their intent was to embarrass him further, he thought with irritation.
    Racing down the stairs, Benedict nearly knocked into his mother, the Dowager Countess of Danford, who was dressed and ready for the day, wearing a lavender gown as she was still in half-mourning. He came to a stop in front of her, bowed his head, and made to move past her and out the front door before she could say anything. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite quick enough.
    “Benedict St. Claire, wherever are you going dressed like that? Is there a masquerade party I have not been made aware of?”
    Benedict cringed before turning to face her. “Good morning, Mother. You are looking rather lovely today. Is that a new dress?”
    “Do not attempt to distract me from your horrendous appearance. Tell me where you are going and why you are dressed like a street urchin.”
    A street urchin? Wasn’t that a little harsh? He knew he couldn’t tell her the truth, for if she knew he was on his way to pay a visit to Lady Gillian, she’d forbid him to leave the house. “I have some business I need to see to this morning, and I didn’t want to risk ruining some of my new clothing.”
    “Oh Benedict,” she laughed mirthlessly, “I think we can afford the risk. Please, go change at once.”
    The clock chimed 1 o’clock. “I’m afraid I do not have time. Good day.” Benedict quickly saw himself out. He knew he’d be subjected to a scolding upon his return, but he would deal with that when the time came.
    Turning form the door, Benedict looked up to behold a bedraggled carriage that was years out of fashion. He watched as an aging footman stepped down to open the door, and he briefly wondered if the dratted thing was safe to ride in. He’d find out soon enough, he thought, as he stepped inside and the footman slammed the door behind him.
    Lying on the faded and worn seat sat a pathetic looking bouquet of pansies and another envelope. He hesitantly picked it up and opened it with trepidation.
    He unfolded two sheets of parchment and read the one on top first:
    Beni—
    We cannot wait to hear how Lady Gillian likes the flowers and poem. Make sure to give it to her whilst you are calling on her, lest we have it delivered at a very inopportune moment.
    Best regards!
    Benedict moaned as he slid the poem from beneath the letter and began to read:
    My darling Lady Gillian,
    who’s eyes shine like the brightest marigold.
    You are a vision to behold.
    Have you been told?
    You dance like a gliding swan,
    and your hair is the color of a fawn.
    If I was an artist, I would draw you.
    That was it? It was hands down the worst poem Benedict had ever read. How could somebody’s eyes shine like a marigold? And Lady Gillian’s hair wasn’t the color of a fawn at all. He placed his head in his hands and groaned at the thought of presenting the lovely Lady Gillian with such an atrocious poem. She would be appalled, and rightfully so.
    ***
    Gillian hid a yawn behind her hand, hoping not to offend Lord Weatherby who was droning on and on about the latest stallion he had just purchased from Tattersall’s. Truthfully, it didn’t matter what subject he chose to speak on, his monotone voice would bore her regardless.
    Gillian’s eyes wandered around the pink