“And you have not addressed the issue I raised. If you insist on discussing your concerns then I insist on discussing mine.”
She vigorously shook her head, all the while blinking her eyes, looking, she felt certain, like an idiot.
“Well then, I suppose these are some of the matters with which we’ll have to come to terms at a later date. I am a patient man. Eight years of exile have taught me how to wait.”
Jillian came to her feet because she could no longer tolerate the advantage he had as he stood over her. She backed away from him, hoping to create some distance not only from his person but from the power of his personality.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “I know you couldn’t possibly want to marry me.”
“I made a promise and, hearsay to the contrary, I am a man of my word.”
“I do not want to marry a man who needs his arm twisted on the way to the altar. Can’t you see that?”
“I don’t know you, Jillian. You must give me time.”
Lord Wickham’s attitude was completely serious now, and that more than anything unnerved her.
“I have to return upstairs,” she said, moving through the door and into the corridor.
“I thought you were on your way out,” he said, following her.
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“Why? Is it because of me?”
“Yes…I mean, no. Oh, please, just leave.”
They had reached the main hall, and Jillian had to resist the urge to open the door and forcibly push him through the entrance.
“I’ll leave if you’ll tell me where you were headed before I arrived.” The earl stationed himself in the middle of the tiled entry, clearly ready to hold his ground until she complied.
“Do you think it is any of your business?” she asked in a waspish voice.
“None whatsoever.”
“All right, all right” she said. The man was impossible to argue with. “I was going fishing. Are you satisfied now?”
She wondered if he felt as surprised as he looked.
“Fishing?” he asked. “Were you really? Seems to me I remember Simon enjoying fishing that summer I stayed at Sutherfield. Must run in the family. I happen to enjoy it myself.” For a moment neither of them spoke, but by the expression on the earl’s face she knew he was doing another kind of fishing—fishing for an invite.
“I like to fish alone, my lord,” she said hurriedly.
“You ought to try it with a companion. I wager you’ll like it even more.”
“But I go early, very early, much too early.”
He grinned. “I’ll be here.”
“If you do I’ll stay home.”
Though the grin did not slip, it eased somewhat as his eyes narrowed. “I’ve detected many things about you, Lady Jillian, but cowardice was not one of them. Should I change my assessment?”
“Damn you!”
“Ah, a witch’s tongue—a profane one at that.”
Her own eyes narrowed at that point. Jillian turned away from him and moved toward the stairs. Since he seemed intent on remaining in her entry then she would be the one to leave. “Have it your own way,” she snapped over her shoulder. As she reached the bottom step of the staircase, she looked back at him. “I’ll tell you one thing, though, if you insist on coming you risk being tossed in the lake at the end of my hook.”
Lord Wickham merely raised his brows in question.
“That’s what you are best at, my lord—baiting one. You should be put to good use and bait the fish instead.”
“Tomorrow then?” he asked cordially.
She gave him her back without answering and his laughter followed her up the stairs.
*****
The earl was in a good mood as he retrieved his horse from the small stable at the rear of Prudence Milford’s home and began his trip to Sutherfield. All things considered he felt his first official visit as Lady Jillian’s future betrothed had gone reasonably well. Not great but that was to be expected when the bride-to-be had made it clear she had no intention of taking part in the nuptials.
Adrian liked the lady, found her stimulating, but she had a forceful nature that challenged his ability to finesse. He wondered if she came by her temperament by birth or if she had acquired her strident ways due to her lot in life. Perhaps both conditions could be blamed. One thing for certain, he thought, he would be making a mistake to allow her the upper hand. If she sensed weakness, the esteemed Lady Jillian Fitzgerald would chop his liver into tiny pieces and serve it to him for dinner.
He laughed aloud at the mental image of a savage Lady Jillian doing away with his remains, but he was uncomfortably aware that her anger at him was very real.
The trip back to Sutherfield took an hour to complete at a restrained canter. Though Adrian found the ride enjoyable, he wondered how much he would enjoy it in the middle of the night when he had to return for his fishing trip with Jillian.
Simon met Adrian as the earl rode into the stable yard.
“Ho, Adrian, how did it go?” the marquess called to him.
The earl dismounted and tossed his reins to a groom who scurried from the stable. “I would like to say all went well, Simon, but that would not be true. On the other hand it could have been worse.”
“Oh?”
“You sister and I have an appointment tomorrow.”
“Do you now?”
“Yes, we do. I have the honor of accompanying Lady Jillian on a fishing expedition. I have to be there before dawn, though, as she swears she will leave me if I am late.”
Simon laughed as he shook his head. “You must think my sister a complete eccentric.”
Adrian smiled as well. “She is different but then so am I. Your sister and I have a shared history of sorts, for we both have spent the last eight years living as outcasts due to a mutual transgression. She did not kill anyone, of course. Still, exile from one’s peers takes a toll, more on her than me because she is female. She’s had to give up what most women in her position expect without question. At her age—how old is she now, twenty-five?—she is bitter, and rebelling against society is her only way of fighting back. I admire her pluck.”
Simon studied the earl for a moment before breaking into a delighted grin. He clapped Adrian on the shoulder, and the two men began the walk from the stable yard to the house.
“Don’t get the maudlin idea I’m being altruistic, Simon. Your sister is a beauty. If I have to take a wife she’s more to my liking than most. I’d marry her anyway because I have a responsibility, but…” Adrian trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable with the drift in the conversation.
“Understood,” the marquess said, nodding. “Cassandra and I have spent the last two nights discussing whether or not this was the right thing to do. Now more than ever I’m convinced Jilly will profit from our interference. You understand her—I could not ask for more. I always knew you were a right one, Adrian.”
The earl snorted. “Of course, you did.”
“Yes, well…” Simon cleared his throat, “have you thought of who will chaperon you two on this fishing trip? I’d do it but I don’t want to leave Cassandra. Unfortunately, I’m afraid Prudence would find it a real chore.”
Adrian stopped as they reached the front step, and he turned to face his friend. “I want you to leave the courting to me, Simon, and trust that I will not do anything to hurt Jillian. Your aunt will provide the necessary shield when necessary. Under normal circumstances what I’m asking would be considered unorthodox, even unthinkable, but the circumstances are not normal. She is, for one thing, no longer a child. Besides, what can the gossipmongers say after all these years that they didn’t say in the past? The harm has been done.”
“‘Spose you’re right. Simon paused. “All right, Adrian, have it your way but do know I’ll be watching. I don’t want any overt impropriety that provides people with something to talk about. Jillian keeps the tongues in the countryside wagging as it is with her outlandish
behavior. Sometimes I wish I lived farther away so I would not be forever subjected to the tales that spin from her direction.”
“When four o’clock in the morning arrives, I’m sure it will seem quite a distance to me,” Adrian said wryly. “I like to fish but I’m better at it when I’m awake.”
Simon chuckled, a chuckle that sounded suspiciously gleeful. “Best make that three o’clock, my friend. When Jilly says early that is exactly what she means.”
*****
CHAPTER 4
The clock on the mantle chiming four in the morning brought Jillian awake. She moaned aloud and, grabbing the covers, pulled them over her head. What had made her tell Lord Wickham she would be leaving early? Actually, what she had wanted was to leave in advance of his arrival however early that might be. She had decided the only way to ensure missing him was to rise at an ungodly hour and depart as soon as possible.
She crawled from the bed and stumbled across her chamber to the washbasin and dashed cold water in her face. That helped but did not alleviate her grogginess. Jillian dressed quickly in the same outfit she had worn the day before, including the straw hat, for the clothing was at hand where she had tossed it on the floor last evening.
Comfortably rumpled she quit her room not five minutes later and descended the stairs. She exited the house by way of the kitchen, stopping to fetch a thick slice of dark bread from the pantry before leaving. She was awake now and the bread tasted lovely, something unexpected since her stomach was not used to being bothered at this time of day.
She took the path leading to the stable, munching hungrily while she walked. The structure loomed out of the darkness as she finished eating and she moved through the door, feeling as though she had entered a dark pit. She could hear the horses in their stalls rather than see them.
“Raven?”
The horse whinnied in answer and Jillian stepped over a hay-strewn floor in his direction, careful where she placed her feet. Feeling in the dark, she found a lantern hanging from a hook on a nearby post. She knew a phosphorus box rested on a ledge not far from the lantern, and sure enough a blind search revealed its location. Fumbling with the box, she extracted a match and, coating it with phosphorus, struck the tiny piece of wood into life. She then lit the lamp.
“That’s better,” she said aloud as the interior of the barn was cast into shadow and light.
She could now see Raven. A bridle and bit had been tossed carelessly over the partition between Raven’s stall and the horse next to him, something Jillian demanded because she went out at all hours of the day and night and wanted the riding gear at hand. Searching the tack room for equipment when she was in a hurry wasted precious time.
With experienced hands she placed the bridle over Raven’s head and led the animal from the barn.
“You forgot your saddle.”
The unexpected words came from behind her and Jillian screamed. She recognized the voice even before she opened her mouth. However, instant reflexes had already sent the sound flying forth, making her feel ridiculous. She swung around to face the intruder.
Lord Wickham emerged from the darkness, his eyes gleaming mischievously as he met her angry glare.
“Why are you hiding in the stable?” she asked peevishly as her heart continued to race.
“I would hardly call it hiding, my lady. You were later than I expected so I decided to take a nap in a haystack in one of the stalls.”
“I was later than you expected? You don’t consider this early?”
“Not early, very early, much too early,” he said, his expression innocent.
“What time did you leave Sutherfield?”
“Now that was much too early.”
Oh dear, she wanted to laugh. But she mustn’t, just mustn’t or he would think she had thawed in her attitude toward him. And she had no intention of doing that now or ever.
Jillian grimaced at him instead. “Have it your own way. I see you are determined to come with me whether I desire your company or not. You might as well be helpful then. The fishing poles are leaning against the wall in the tack room.”
“At your service, my lady,” the earl said, bowing before he turned toward the stable.
She blew through her lips, creating an unladylike sound. His sincerity was as believable as a paste jewel, she thought in disgust as she made ready to mount her horse. Jillian grabbed hold of Raven’s bridle and, placing her right hand on his hindquarter as leverage, leapt belly first onto the back of the horse. As soon as she knew she was securely in place, she threw her leg over the animal and came into a sitting position.
“What the hell are you doing?” Lord Wickham had appeared from the stable holding the fishing poles in one hand and leading his horse with the other. He stared at her in consternation.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Where’s your saddle?”
“I rarely use a saddle and never a sidesaddle.”
“Good God, woman, no wonder people question your behavior. A lady does not ride a horse like that.”
“Who said I’m a lady?” Jillian sneered. “For your information I find it odd that females are encouraged to ride in so dangerous a fashion. A sidesaddle makes me feel as though I’m about to topple to the ground. I can’t control Raven as easily that way.”
“That’s nonsense. Unless you are racing at unsafe speeds, you should be perfectly safe riding in the traditional manner.”
“This is how I am going, my lord,” she said haughtily. “Are you coming or not?”
A steely look entered the earl’s eyes, a look that made Jillian all at once ill at ease.
“As you will, my lady,” he said in a cool voice.
He mounted his horse.
The journey to Squire Lindley’s property took less than thirty minutes. The trip was a silent one with neither rider apparently willing to break the awkward quiet. At least, Jillian knew she was not. The earl rode slightly behind her and to her right, and though she could not see him except from the periphery of her vision, his unspoken disapproval roared at her.
Too bad, she thought defiantly. Who did he think he was anyway, coming into her life and telling her what to do? She must tolerate his company because she had promised Simon, but it seemed a waste of time to move forward with the courtship when she had no intention of following through with the wedding.
Jillian led them about a quarter mile into a wooded area where a large stream sliced through the trees. Though still dark the dying moon cast a silvery reflection onto the stream, illuminating the surrounding landscape. The water flowed along a high, grassy embankment, and small rocks worn smooth by countless years of erosion filled the shallows at the shore’s edge.
Lord Wickham immediately dismounted. “I can see why you like it here,” he said, coming to stand next to her horse. “Is the fishing good?”
“I rarely worry about the fish,” she answered stiffly. “I come for other reasons.”
He reached up to help her from her horse, and Jillian glanced into his raised face. The moonlight emphasized his sculpted features, features so ruggedly handsome she felt her throat constrict. She wanted to ignore his courteous gesture, not because she disliked his offer but because she feared him touching her. She refused to ponder why that should be.
“I’m quite capable of getting off my horse when I am ready,” she said, aware she was being ungracious.
“I’m certain you are.” The earl did not move away from her when she rebuffed him but rather continued to wait, his gaze steady and unwavering.
“You are a stubborn man, my lord.”
“So I’ve been told.”
To continue to refuse him would make her appear petty, thus Jillian placed her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to swing her to the ground. He released her immediately.
The earl apparently had thought nothing of the contact. But she could still feel where he had held her waist in a strong grip, and she detested the nervous quivering that had risen in her s
tomach. She was attracted to the man and was infuriated with herself for being unable to control the feeling. The one thing Jillian had determined long ago was never again to be out of control. She would stifle that feeling or be dead trying.
“Something has occurred to me,” Lord Wickham said.
“Yes?” Her answer was curt as she continued to calm her heightened emotions.
“We forgot the bait.” She turned to look at him and he put up his hands. “And don’t tell me I must wiggle my toes in the water to attract the fish. I warn you I did not take your threat of using me for bait seriously.”
“We’ll dig for earthworms, my lord. Are you certain you’ve been fishing before?”
“I hear the disparagement in your voice, Lady Jillian, and I really must protest. Did you bring a shovel?”
“For heaven’s sake, the ground is soft, and since it’s still dark the worms have not retreated yet. It should take little effort to capture enough to keep us fishing for hours. We’ll use sticks. That is what I always do.”
“You did say you like to dig in the dirt.”
Jillian sensed his amusement but ignored the remark, hoping that if she did not react to his teasing he would grow tired of the game. Instead, she began to search at her feet for the stick she had mentioned.
“Aha! This is perfect,” she said, holding up a sturdy specimen.
She left the earl to find his own tool and moved to the embankment where the earth was rich with humus and she knew the worms were plentiful. She worked silently, capturing several before realizing she had nothing to put them in. It took her only a moment to come up with a solution. She whipped off the straw hat she wore and dumped her booty into it.
Dawn was fast arriving, and Jillian glanced up at that moment to see the earl staring at her with a quizzical expression.
“Have you caught anything, my lord?” she asked loftily. “You’re welcome to share my hat if you like.”
He chuckled. “I don’t suppose you’ll need my help baiting your hook. I gather all those years I spent becoming proficient at chivalry are wasted on a self-sufficient female like you.
In the Garden of Disgrace Page 6