In the Garden of Disgrace

by Cynthia Wicklund

  “Perhaps, perhaps,” she said, primly rearranging her skirts. “Now, dear boy, would you be kind enough to pour me a dab more of that delightful brandy?”

  *****

  Jillian had the maid set the table for dinner in the morning room. Though the dining room was not large, it did require more than three people to be a comfortable place to eat. An intimate meal demanded a cozy setting.

  The scene that had occurred with Auntie Pru in the kitchen disturbed her. She regretted upsetting her aunt, but she also disliked being questioned every time she moved. Perhaps her good sense had deserted her lately, she thought, for she seemed forever to be incurring someone’s displeasure.

  Though she hated to acknowledge it, the earl had found a way to worm himself into her good graces. He had followed her aunt into the parlor, and Prudence and he had entertained one another while Jillian finished overseeing the preparation of the meal. Occasionally she could hear masculine laughter combined with her aunt’s high-pitched trill drift down the hallway. Actually, Aunt Pru sounded a little too happy.

  She sent the footman to announce the dinner, and moments later Pru entered the morning room on the earl’s arm. Jillian knew immediately that her aunt had been sampling the brandy. She cast a look of displeasure at the earl, but he merely sent one back at her that said it wasn’t his fault.

  “Are you all right, Auntie?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course, never better, my dear.”

  Prudence’s plump cheeks were flushed, and her eyes had taken on an unnatural sparkle, but she seemed relaxed, and that was better than her nervous twitters of a short while before, her niece decided.

  Lord Wickham pulled out the older woman’s chair first and then he seated Jillian.

  “What have we here?” the earl asked, sitting down.

  “Peasant fare, I’m afraid, my lord,” Jillian answered, indicating the dishes. “We fried the potatoes to go with the fish. The carrots and green peas are fresh from our garden. The rice pudding is Cook’s specialty. Since it is just the three of us we’ll serve ourselves.”

  “Had no idea peasants ate so well.” Lord Wickham smiled at his table partners. “Thank you for inviting me, ladies. I had to flee England to appreciate what I left behind.”

  Jillian was touched. He seemed genuine, and she smiled back at him. He held her regard, and the warmth emanating from his light blue eyes caused her stomach to lurch uncontrollably. Suddenly she didn’t know if she could eat, not because the meal had lost its appeal, but because she did not think a stomach tied in knots could hold food.

  She dropped her gaze. “Shall we?” she murmured as she picked up the dish of peas.

  The invitation was unnecessary as Aunt Prudence had already filled her plate.

  Once the meal was completed her aunt pleaded exhaustion. Jillian wasn’t surprised, for Prudence grew tired within a short time after imbibing brandy. She worried sometimes that Pru overdid the drinking, but it was one of the old woman’s few pleasures in life.

  “You behave yourself, young man,” Aunt Prudence said in an authoritative voice as she rose from the table, carefully balancing her rotund body. “I won’t have my favorite niece compromised.”

  Jillian was startled to see her aunt wink at their guest.

  The earl stood from the table as well and took Prudence’s hand. “It has been a lovely evening, ma’am. I will be taking my leave as soon as Lady Jillian and I share a cup of tea. I promise to conduct myself as though you were still here.”

  The earl dropped a kiss on the elderly woman’s hand, and to her niece’s amazement, Auntie Pru giggled.

  Jillian did not respond to Pru’s slurred goodnight as her aunt left the room. Instead, she waited in irritated silence as the earl sat down again and the footman poured the tea.

  “It would seem you have made another convert of one of my relatives, my lord,” she said, disgruntled. “Are you sprinkling the food with fairy dust when I’m not looking?”

  “I thought we had agreed to be less formal with each other.” Lord Wickham had eased back in his seat with his elbow resting on the arm of the captain’s chair. He looked very much at home. “And in answer to your question, if I were enchanting the food then you would be a convert as well. I don’t detect that as yet but I’m still hopeful.”

  “Which is why I should not allow the familiarity of first names. You seem entirely too comfortable for my comfort.”

  “You are the one who suggested it, Jillian. Do you intend to renege?” He watched her through half-lidded eyes.

  He was baiting her again, turning her own words against her.

  “Why do you insist on pursuing this relationship?” she asked. “Can’t you see it is the last thing I want?”

  “I told you, I made a promise.”

  “But what if I never agree? You can’t make me marry you. You’ve said so yourself.”

  The earl took a long sip of his tea and then placed the cup in the saucer. “I intend to work on your weakness.”

  For some reason that alarmed her. “What weakness?”

  “After today I think you know.”

  Jillian felt the color flow to her face. “I have no idea what you mean. But if I did—and I do mean if—I would like to thank you for warning me. Now I’ll know to be careful.”

  “It won’t make any difference.”

  Something in his tone made her pulse leap. “Why would you say that? Forewarned is forearmed.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Lord Wickham leaned forward in his chair, bringing his elbows to the table as his eyes locked with hers. “Do you know of opium?”

  She nodded slowly. Where was he headed with this odd line of questioning?

  “Then you know it is a narcotic, a stimulating, pleasurable narcotic. It has an allure for the user that is impossible to resist. I do not have personal knowledge of the drug, but I’ve had it described to me.” He paused, and the look in his eyes deepened. “Passion is much like opium, I believe—stimulating, pleasurable and nearly impossible to resist.”

  “W-what does that have to do with me?”

  “Everything, Jillian, everything. There is passion between us. I’ve felt it from the beginning. We can fight it, you and I, but in the end it will do us no good.”

  Jillian felt an uneasiness wash over her that was akin to superstition. “I think you are attributing feelings to me that are yours and yours alone. You make it sound as though you are driven by compulsion. That is not very romantic, my lord.”

  “Is it romance you want, Jillian?” the earl asked softly. He reached over and sent the tips of his fingers skimming lightly along the back of her wrist where she rested it on the table.

  She pulled her hand away, slipping it into her lap. “I don’t want anything from you, my lord, except that you leave me alone. Haven’t I made myself clear?”

  “You promised to try, Jillian. Is your word no good?”

  “And you promised Aunt Pru you would behave yourself.”

  “I am behaving myself.” He gave her a strange half-grin as he rose to his feet. “Now if I were to move to your side of the table,” he did that, coming to stand behind her chair, “and I were to…oh say, rub your neck…”

  Jillian felt his hands, warm and compelling, as he laid them on her shoulders. Immediately, she tried to get up, but he pressed her back into her seat.

  “Now, now,” the earl said, rubbing his thumbs in a soothing motion along her spine at the nape of her neck, “don’t be hasty. I’m merely doing this for illustration purposes. As I was saying, if I were to do these things then you could question my behavior. But since I’m not…”

  “Lord Wickham—”

  “Adrian,” he demanded in a silky voice as he continued the captivating movement.

  “All right, Adrian…please, I—”

  “Please? I think you are right. I should carry on for your sake. You are very tense, you know.”

  The earl ran his hands along her shoulders, squeezing then releasing, manipulati
ng the tender flesh covered by only the thin cotton of her gown. Confounded, Jillian wondered why she tolerated his efforts, for she knew it was wrong. She guessed at some point she ceased to care because as the seconds ticked by, the only thing she felt was an almost irresistible urge to purr.

  “You have beautiful hair, did you know that, Jillian?”

  She heard his husky words as if from a distance. And she knew the moment he released the ribbon that held her hair. When he slipped his fingers into the heavy mass, her scalp began to tingle deliciously. Jillian allowed her eyes to drift closed.

  He had her where he wanted her—she knew it as surely as he did. He could have continued indefinitely, lulling her with his sensual massage—if he had not tried to kiss her.

  Adrian lifted her hair from the back of her neck and set his mouth on an exquisitely sensitive spot just beneath her right ear. She gasped at the contact.

  Jillian whipped around to face him. “You go too far, my lord. You make love to me in my aunt’s home, even though you promised her you would not.”

  She managed to slip from her chair, staggering away from him as she snatched her ribbon from the table where he had discarded it. She slid the satin piece into place and quickly retied it.

  The earl dropped his hands to his sides and smiled at her in apology. “Interesting thing about seduction—if one is not detached when invoking the powers of Eros, there is the risk of being caught in one’s own snare. Forgive me, I fear that is what happened to me.”

  “Pretty words, but I wonder if you mean them.”

  Oddly, the earl did look as though he meant them. He was no longer smiling and he appeared uncomfortable as he watched her through serious eyes.

  His next question surprised her. “Would you like to take a walk in the garden?”

  “Sounds suspiciously like the wolf inviting the lamb to dinner,” Jillian retorted. “Will you promise to behave yourself if I do? Auntie Pru’s bedchamber faces on the garden. She may approve of you, but I can guarantee there are certain things her tender eyes have never seen.”

  “On threat of death,” he said, making a crisscross motion with his hand over his heart. “Although I would be careful making assumptions about Miss Milford. I have the distinct impression she’s more complicated than she seems.”

  Jillian gave him a measuring glance but merely nodded.

  They walked into the moonlight through the French doors in the morning room, wandering down the path. The night was cool and the scent of many flowers filled the air. The earl took her elbow but the gesture was impersonal, and she no longer felt threatened.

  Adrian broke the silence. “It’s beautiful here. This place is much like my estate in the country. And it was always the country not the city I dreamed of during my exile. Cities are much alike around the world. They don’t always look alike but they feel alike—too many people in too small a space, mucking up things. No, it was the English countryside for which I pined.”

  “Your home resembles this place? This is an old dower house with only a few acres of land.”

  “Actually, Wickham Hall is more like Sutherfield. It’s very large. But it has gardens such as these. My mother, by the by, enjoyed growing flowers as you do.”

  “She did?”

  “Yes. She was also an unconventional sort. She blamed herself for my wild ways. Said it was in the blood.”

  “Have you seen her since your return?”

  Jillian regretted asking the question, for he turned on her a look so full of anguish, her throat clogged.

  “She died last winter,” he said. “There was a message from my man of business waiting for me when I reached the continent. I usually have little patience for regret because lamenting the past will not mend what is done. All that can be hoped for is greater wisdom when dealing with the future. But I had only one mother—being wiser won’t help me, for there is no future where she is concerned.”

  “I know what you mean,” Jillian said, all at once close to tears. “My disgrace broke my father’s heart. He went to his grave disappointed in me. I find that a very difficult thing to live with.”

  Adrian took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She looked up at him, and even in the dark she could see the compassion radiating from his warm eyes.

  “What about your other family, brothers, sisters?” she asked, trying to move the subject away from herself.

  “I’m an only child, spoiled rotten from what I’ve been told. Both my parents are deceased. Oh, I have the usual assortment of relatives—aunts, uncles, cousins—but no one with whom I’m close. Frankly, if I dropped off the face of the earth tomorrow I doubt anyone would miss me.”

  That was such a sad statement, for the first time Jillian felt sorry for him. “We’re a maudlin pair, aren’t we? This is too beautiful a night to wallow in painful memories.”

  “Yes, but those memories give us something in common, don’t they? I believe this is a case of a little good coming out of something bad.”

  “I suppose,” Jillian said after a minute. She turned back toward the house. “I think I should go inside now.”

  They retraced their steps on the path, this time walking in silence until they reached the French doors.

  Adrian took her hand. “You won’t believe this but I enjoyed myself today.”

  “You weren’t supposed to,” she muttered.

  “I know.”

  “Well, I—”

  “Jillian?”

  There was a peculiar inflection in his voice that caused her to hesitate.

  “Yes?” she ventured cautiously.

  “May I kiss you goodnight?”

  His features were all dark planes and intriguing angles in the half-light cast by the moon, his eyes glittering intently, and Jillian felt the pull of desire despite her reluctance.

  “Oh no, I don’t think…that’s really not a good idea, my lord.”

  “Adrian.”

  “Adrian,” she repeated. “I—”

  “Kiss me, Jillian.”

  For her very life she could not resist the appeal in the tantalizing words. “Just a kiss?”

  “That only,” he whispered.

  Jillian placed her hands on his chest and, rising on tiptoe, touched her lips to his. It was a light kiss, no more than a gentle caress, but instead of ending the contact immediately she increased the pressure.

  She wondered later why she did it, for her boldness unleashed a response that was not unexpected. Perhaps the move was calculated. Perhaps she wanted to know if he desired her or was merely pretending emotions he did not feel—emotions Jillian feared she had begun to feel.

  Adrian groaned against her mouth, wrapping her in a tight embrace that snatched the breath from her body. He gripped her hips then ran his hands up her back, gently kneading as he went. He slipped his fingers into her hair and deepened the kiss. There went her ribbon again, she thought, dazed.

  Jillian was mesmerized by the earl’s overpowering virility and the thrill of being close to him. Rather than evading him, she had to fight the urge to draw even closer, to steep herself in the sensation. With difficulty she broke the contact.

  She licked her lips, unable to look at him, instead centering her sight on a place just above his left shoulder. “That was only kiss?” she asked, ashamed of her labored breathing.

  Since he still held her she felt the laughter rumble in his chest. “I admit some are better than others.” He took her chin, forcing her to look at him. “This was the best, better than this morning because you kissed me first.”

  “I simply did as you asked.”

  “But that made all the difference,” Adrian said in a warm voice as he rubbed his thumb against her bottom lip.

  How could she be sure he was telling the truth? He was an experienced man who had seen the world, and she suspected he knew much about seduction. Though not a girl, she was an innocent in most ways and unprepared to handle his sophisticated methods. He understood his own charisma, she knew he did, else ho
w did he ply that charm with such confidence? And how could she gauge his sincerity when she had forgotten how to trust?

  “Do you believe in fate, Jillian?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, suddenly feeling tired.

  “I do. I will wager there is a reason you and I were in that carriage together.”

  “If there is I haven’t discovered it,” she said, freeing herself from his arms. “I really must go in now.” She reached for the door handle.

  “Jillian.”

  She glared at him impatiently. “What now, another kiss?”

  The earl gave her a lopsided grin. “Not exactly, although that sounds excellent as well.” He glanced down. “I left my boots inside.”

  Jillian looked at his feet and clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a burble of laughter. “I forgot. You walked through the garden without wearing your shoes.”

  “I managed the garden well enough but riding my horse is another matter. Even if the boots are still wet, I’d better retrieve them.”

  She led him into the house, and a quick inquiry of the footman sent them to the kitchen. The earl’s Hessians were drying on the fireplace along with his clothing, and he hastily donned his socks and the boots.

  “They are mostly dry,” Adrian said, “but they’ll never be the same.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. Never lost a pair of boots to a better cause. Anytime you feel like taking a dip in the stream let me know. I’d be happy to join you.”

  “You are an incorrigible man, my lord.” She smiled because she could not help herself.

  Adrian winked at her. “I told you we suit.”

  Before she could respond he leaned over, gave her a light peck on the cheek and disappeared through the kitchen door.

  *****

  CHAPTER 6

  The clock said two in the morning and Jillian could not sleep. Today was the first day in nearly four weeks Lord Wickham had not come to visit and, though she hated to think his absence had something to do with her restlessness, she wondered.