In the Garden of Disgrace (6 page)

She told herself the only reason she cared
was that she didn’t want to embarrass Simon. Why should she be
concerned with Lord Wickham’s opinion? Unfortunately, Jillian kept
remembering when the earl had looked at her, taking in her
mud-spattered costume and unshod feet. What had he been thinking in
that fleeting moment before his gaze met hers? She shook her head
as though shaking loose the thought.

One thing she refused to do was pin her hair
up as was expected of a woman her age. Her tresses were heavy and
with the pins digging into her scalp, her head would begin to hurt
almost at once. In the past she had been a drudge to fashion
regardless of the inconvenience. She had primped like all the young
females of her acquaintance, sneaking into the rouge pot when her
mother looked the other way and wearing a corset that made her feel
pinched in two. Not anymore.

Jillian did wish her hair had some curl,
though. On reflection she decided it looked like the tail of a
horse, long and straight, especially when she tied it at the back
of her neck—not very flattering, she decided.

She crossed to her dressing table, opening
one of the drawers and, after rifling through the contents,
extracted an ecru ribbon. The ribbon matched exactly the lace on
her dress, and she slipped it around her hair, tying a bow. There,
she thought—an outmoded dress and a horse’s tail. Perfect. She
supposed Simon’s pride would have to wait for another time.

She turned back to the cheval glass, pleased
with her efforts, and curtsied at her reflection.

“So glad to see you again, Lord Wicked,” she
said aloud in an artificially sweet voice.

And with that, Jillian turned and left the
room, refusing to acknowledge the nervous flutters in her stomach
that had turned her limbs into aspic.

*****

Adrian decided he liked Aunt Prudence. A
fluffy little woman with white hair almost as wide as she was tall,
Auntie Pru spun about the tiny parlor like a wooden top, always
breathless, always enthusiastic.

“I’m delighted to meet you, Lord Wickham,”
she gushed in winded accents. “We rarely have such exalted
company.”

The earl took her soft, plump hand. “The
Marquess of Sutherfield qualifies more than I do, ma’am.” He winked
at the marquess who nursed a drink on the other side of the
room.

“Oh, him—of course, but he’s family, don’t
you see? Hard to think of one’s nephew as exalted. No offense
intended, Simon, you understand.”

“None taken, my dear,” Simon intoned
gravely.

“There’s a good lad,” she said as if her
nephew were still a green youth. She looked toward the parlor door.
“Where’s that sister of yours? Can’t fathom her reluctance this
evening. She’s usually the first one at the table. Has an appetite
like a horse, you know.”

Adrian glanced up just as the lady with the
equine appetite passed through the doorway.

Her face was a mask of dismay. “Aunt
Prudence, I doubt our guest is interested in my eating habits.”

The old lady’s eyes grew round as though
only now did she understand what she had said. “Oh, I-I see what
you mean. I’m sorry, Jilly. My tongue is forever getting ahead of
my brain.”

Her niece’s expression softened. “Not to
worry, love, I’m afflicted with the same condition at times.”

The gentle look on Lady Jillian’s face made
the earl feel he had never seen a more beautiful woman. She had
donned a simple purple gown, stretched a little too tightly across
her bosom, although Adrian found that condition intriguing. In
fact, Pru’s declaration about Jillian’s appetite aside, the young
lady had a splendid body, voluptuous with a narrow waist. And he
didn’t think she wore a corset to achieve that narrow waist, for
her torso did not have the unnatural look of being encased in
metal. He detected soft flesh and nothing more. Yes,
intriguing.

She had eschewed the hair fashion adopted by
most mature females, instead allowing her mahogany mane to flow
down her back, contained by only a single ribbon. Few women could
have worn that stark style, but Lady Jillian accomplished it with
elegance. For a second he allowed himself to wonder what it would
feel like to run his fingers through the dark strands from scalp to
silken tips…Adrian gave himself a mental shake. Lord, he’d been too
long without a woman.

“Don’t you think so, my lord?” Aunt Prudence
interrupted his thoughts.

“What? I’m sorry, what did you say?” the
earl said as he realized the older woman had been talking nonstop
at him for several moments.

He must have been staring at Lady Jillian in
a rather fixed way, unaware of the conversation flowing around him,
for when he glanced at the young lady’s brother, his friend gave
him a knowing look, eyebrows raised, and lifted his glass in a mock
salute. Adrian smiled sheepishly.

“I said,” Aunt Prudence continued, “that the
weather has been marvelous, don’t you think so?”

“If you are speaking of England, I can only
vouch for the last four days, ma’am,” the earl said, “but I would
have to agree that what I’ve seen so far has been very
pleasant.”

Adrian glanced again at Lady Jillian, but
she had steadfastly refused to meet his gaze. At any rate, that was
the impression she gave. In that moment he knew he had a difficult
task ahead of him. It was one thing to promise Simon he would wed
the man’s sister, he thought, and something else again to get the
young lady to make the same commitment.

So be it. Adrian had always liked a
challenge. Not that he wanted to marry right now, especially a
stranger, but the stranger part could be mended with a few weeks of
intense courtship. What he did want was to do the right thing. He
liked to think he had done some maturing in his years of exile,
that he would meet his responsibilities head on like a
gentleman.

Still, he had not been prepared for the
instant attraction he felt for Lady Jillian, an attraction he
recalled feeling on the night of the duel. Then he had put it down
to the time and location and the temptation of a pretty face rather
than anything more profound. But now he wondered. Might there be a
magnetism between Lady Jillian and himself that would prove more
than a passing fancy? Despite the lady’s nonchalant attitude,
intuition told him she was aware of the pull between them also.

The idea made him feel self-conscious,
consequently he greeted the announcement of dinner with relief.

Simon strode across the room and took his
aunt’s arm, leaving the task of escorting his prickly sister to the
earl. However, when Adrian placed his hand on Lady Jillian’s elbow
he sensed her resistance. In fact, though he knew she made an
attempt at graciousness, her effort came close to failure. Her
attitude did not bode well for the coming meal.

But as it turned out dinner was a congenial
affair. The food was tolerable and the addition of Prudence’s
frothy personality kept the conversation from turning stiff and
unnatural. Adrian enjoyed feasting on hearty English cooking with
his English friends at an English table. Only now did he begin to
perceive how much he had missed his homeland.

After eating, the gentlemen decided not to
have drinks alone. Instead, they invited the ladies to remain at
the table with them and share tea. At this point the conversation
turned more personal. Jillian posed the first probing question to
the earl, which seemed odd to him, for up to now she had seemed to
avoid addressing him unless absolutely necessary.

“Lord Wickham,” she asked, “you have not
been back to England since the autumn of 1802?”

She watched him out of deep brown eyes, and
Adrian instantly felt the attraction between them that he had
detected earlier. This time he knew for certain she felt it also,
for something nearly undetectable shifted in her regard when he
returned her look. Yet he had to give her high marks for courage
because she continued to watch him even though he knew she had been
made uncomfortable by their unspoken exchange.

“No, I haven’t,” he said. “Four days ago was
the first time I’ve stepped on English soil since the…since I
departed. I was so overcome with joy upon my return I felt the
incomprehensible urge to fall to my knees and kiss the earth.”

“And did you, my lord?” Jillian asked in a
sly voice.

Adrian grinned. “Now there is where I am
glad having an urge does not necessarily mean one must act upon it.
I couldn’t get past the notion that if I kissed the ground, I would
get dirt in my mouth—good English dirt, mind, but still dirt. I
kept seeing myself looking as though I had dined on mud cakes—not
how I wanted to be seen entering the country.”

That commentary brought on a gust of
laughter from his dinner companions. Even Lady Jillian, much to
Adrian’s satisfaction, smiled her appreciation.

“Then where have you been all these years,
dear boy?” Aunt Prudence asked.

“I stayed in France until the early part of
1803. The political situation there began to deteriorate badly
about that time, and it was not the best place to be an Englishman.
Just as well, I suppose. I wanted to see the continent, anyway.
After two years boredom set in.”

“I suspect that is in character,” Jillian
muttered.

“Jillian!” Her aunt and Simon spoke
simultaneously.

“No, no, she’s right,” Adrian said, holding
up his hands to stem the outrage. “Restlessness has been one of my
worst traits. I believe that is why I was always in some scrape or
another.”

“Where did you go from there?” Aunt Prudence
asked him while sending her niece a disapproving look.

Adrian smiled inwardly for that niece
appeared singularly unrepentant. “West Indies, an amazingly exotic
place, warm year round with coastal waters beautiful beyond
description. I really believed when I first landed there I would
stay for the remainder of my life, traveling between the
islands.”

“What made you change your mind?” This from
Simon.

“If you can believe, I grew homesick for a
real winter. Actually, I was on my way back to England three years
ago when the ship I was on made an unplanned detour to the port of
New Orleans. Haven’t the faintest idea why I did it but on a whim I
stayed. Decided to experience some of America. Not the original
colonies, you understand. They are too civilized. I wanted to visit
the untamed territories. I did that, existing fairly much out of
saddlebags for months. Joined what they call a cattle drive, mostly
as an observer, to absorb the atmosphere of the American west.
Might as well tell you right now, living without the conveniences
is not at all what it is made out to be.”

“Did you see Indians?” Jillian asked her
curiosity evidently overcoming her reticence.

“Indeed I did. Fascinating peoples. But
there are many tribes, you know, many cultures. I met only a few.
And luckily I did not encounter any who were at war with the
American government, for they might not have realized I was
neutral.” Adrian shook his head. “As to that, our own situation
with America has become quite volatile. I’m afraid if the English
and Americans do not come to an understanding we will be at war
again. That is one of the reasons I decided to come home.”

Everyone nodded in silent agreement, and on
that solemn note they rose and left the table. Shortly thereafter
the men took their leave of the ladies.

On the ride back to Sutherfield Simon
commented, “The evening went well, don’t you think?”

The earl glanced at his friend as he shifted
impatiently in his saddle. “It went as well as one could expect
under the circumstances. I’ll be frank—that doesn’t say much.
Speaking of war, I believe your sister has declared as much on
me.”

“We’ve taken her by surprise but she
promised she would make an effort.

“Your idea of an effort may be different
than hers.”

“Are you trying to renege?” It was hard to
miss the sudden suspicion in the marquess’ voice.

“Of course, not. I gave you my word. I’m
merely suggesting that my word does not cover Lady Jillian’s
intentions. And right now she doesn’t appear to want to
cooperate.”

“If it comes to that, she will do as she is
told.”

Adrian pulled on the reins of his horse,
bringing the animal to a sudden stop. He squinted at the marquess
who had stopped as well, trying to see his face. But his friend’s
features had grown indistinguishable in the inky night.

“I don’t want that, Simon. I have to build a
life with your sister. If we start out with hate between us our
chances for a successful marriage will be reduced to nothing. I’d
like the opportunity to bring her around to our way of thinking. I
don’t believe force is the way to do that.”

Simon didn’t speak immediately and, though
Adrian could not see his companion’s expression, he had the feeling
he was being analyzed just as he had been earlier in the
evening.

“Jilly is as pig-headed as they come,” Simon
agreed at last. “All right, have it your way. I know what it is
like to have to convince a woman she cares for one.”

“Cassandra?” Adrian asked, interest
piqued.

“Yes, and I’ll tell you about it if you
think it will help,” the marquess said as he kicked his mount into
an even canter. “However, being as Jillian is my sister I would
much prefer you not use some of my methods…”

*****

Jillian yanked open the drawer of the
chiffonier, pushing the contents this way and that until she found
an old pair of cotton stockings. She quickly donned them and then
slung her feet into oversized work boots. The final touch was a
straw hat that hung from the mirror of her dressing table, a
compliment to the shabby muslin dress she wore.

She ignored the clothing she had left piled
on the floor next to her bed, but she knew Hannah would later
remind her of the transgression. While at it the maid could be
counted on to complain that her mistress had once again dressed
without help from her personal servant. Jillian didn’t care. She
had no patience for rituals that wasted precious time.