Her niece continued to look at her, unconvinced.
“All right, I’ll admit I’m worried but not for the reason you imagine. Jillian, my dear, I don’t want you to be hurt. I have no idea how people are going to react. But past experience would indicate they may be hard on you. However, I’m not without influence, and,” here she paused as her eyes narrowed, “I’ll protect you as far as I am able. I can give the cut for transgressions against my niece as well as take it. So if you’ve the courage to try then so have I.”
Jillian felt her throat tighten. “Oh, Auntie,” she said, coming to kneel by the settee as she took Pru’s hand, “I do love you. I appreciate your concern, and I will probably need your help from time to time. But I think it best if I remain in the background. We’re here to get you well, and I don’t intend to lose sight of that. I will tell you, though,” she winked at the older woman, “you can be most intimidating when you choose to be. I’d hate if you gave me the cut direct.”
Prudence nodded at her sagely. “My point exactly, dear.”
*****
Jillian ran nervous fingers over the skirt of her new lavender gown and, taking her aunt’s arm, entered Bath’s Great Pump Room where one could socialize, see and be seen while sipping on the healing waters.
It had taken her nearly a week to gather her courage to venture into a public place but, now that she was here, she thought the gates of Hell would be more inviting. She despised her loss of nerve, hated that she cared for the opinions of others. Even so, she clung to Prudence’s arm as though she were in danger of spilling to the floor without her aunt’s support.
“Do you see your friends, Auntie?” Jillian asked, ashamed of the high-pitched sound in voice.
“Now, now, dear, I’m sure they are here. Be patient. These old eyes don’t see as well as they once did,” Pru said as she continued to survey the room. “Oh, look, there they are.”
She glanced where her aunt indicated and spotted two elderly women, Lady Alice Henry and Miss Cordelia Barnstable, sitting at a table under a large palm, both of them waving hankies and trilling “yoo hoo!”
As they began their trek across the Pump Room, Jillian queried anxiously, “Are you certain they won’t be embarrassed to be seen with me? I don’t wish to upset anyone.”
“Silly girl, I told you, you need not worry about Alice and Cordelia. I made it clear that I expected you to be treated with respect, or I would not be able to associate with my old friends. Actually,” Prudence whispered in a conspiratorial voice, “I explained how you had suffered through no fault of your own, and before I was done they were quite sympathetic.”
At that point they reached the table, and Jillian was prevented from having to express her views that she was at least guilty of bad judgment. Just as well, she supposed, for Aunt Pru, stalwart supporter that she was, had always held her niece to be blameless and refused to acknowledge any other viewpoint.
“Lady Alice, Cordelia, this is my niece, Lady Jillian Fitzgerald,” Prudence said to her friends.
The two ladies stood, nodding and murmuring a greeting, both wearing an identical expression of graciousness laced with curiosity. Lady Alice was thin and spare with corresponding bird-like features. Cordelia, on the other hand, was perhaps the largest woman Jillian had ever seen, not only in height but in girth. She also had a kind face which was very reassuring.
Jillian exchanged hand clasps with each woman, and Aunt Pru and she joined them at their table. A waiter approached at that moment and her aunt ordered a glass of mineral water, encouraging her niece to do the same.
“No thank you. Papa brought me here when I was a girl, and I tasted the waters at that time. As I recall, I made a promise then and there never to allow that foul liquid to touch my lips again.” Jillian smiled at the three older ladies. “Can’t break my word to myself.” To the waiter she said, “Tea, please.”
“Wise girl,” Cordelia said, and she shuddered delicately, an amazing accomplishment for such a mammoth person. “I force myself to drink the waters for I’ve been told,” she dropped her voice dramatically, “they can help one lose weight.”
Jillian nodded politely, bereft of words, but her regard shifted to scrawny Lady Alice. Hopefully the waters had no such powers or that poor creature would disappear altogether.
The conversation continued in that slightly askew fashion, the older women talking animatedly, Jillian listening. She allowed her gaze to roam the room but saw no one she recognized. She did not know if anyone recognized her for she made no eye contact. Instead she looked around people, over people, and through people, never allowing her attention to linger. Jillian had decided that if she gave no one the opportunity then no one could snub her.
“Do you join us, Jillian?”
She looked at her aunt. “Join you?”
“We had planned to take a soak this afternoon, my dear. My joints feel so much better after the warmth of the spa.”
“I don’t think so. Will you be long?”
“Perhaps an hour?” Prudence glanced at her friends for confirmation. “Yes, about an hour. What will you do?”
“I thought you might want to bathe so I’m prepared. I have a book from the lending library,” Jillian said, reaching into her bag. “I’ll just read and sip tea. This is a nice quiet table.”
Pru seemed to hesitate. “Are you certain?”
“Of course.” She took her aunt’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I must step out from behind your skirts sometime. Warm your joints. I’ll be right here when you return.”
As Jillian watched the three old women retreat, she acknowledged to herself that she did not feel as confident as she had sounded. She was glad her table was in a corner partially hidden by the palm. Probably she would go unnoticed, she reasoned hopefully. The waiter refreshed her tea and she opened her book. Within minutes she was lost in the story.
“Lady Jillian Fitzgerald? Is that you?”
She was shocked into awareness by the sound of a masculine voice, vaguely familiar, as the shadow of a man fell across the pages of her book. Her pulse leapt in anxiety as she brought her gaze to the gentleman who loomed over her. She opened her mouth to answer him but the words died in her throat.
“By Jove, it is you!” he said. “Lord, woman, you’re more beautiful than I remember.”
“Lionel?” she croaked at last.
“In the flesh.” The Marquess of Edgeworth beamed at her, tall, blonde-haired and gray-eyed, as handsome as she remembered. “I was afraid you might have forgotten me.”
Forgotten him?—How could she forget a man she had almost married? She stared at him, too discomposed to speak.
“Aren’t you going to ask me to join you?”
Jillian nodded at the chair opposite her, heart still thumping erratically. Yet despite her loss of composure she was just spirited enough to ask him a pointed question.
“Are you certain you wish to be seen with me?”
He winced. Sitting down, he said, “I deserve that. I was hoping after all these years you might have forgiven me.”
Lionel smiled at her, that wonderful smile she had found so endearing when she was an infatuated young girl.
“There’s nothing to forgive.” She met his gaze firmly, coolly, determined that he believe her. Her pride would allow nothing less.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said slowly. “I thought…well, I had reason to believe…anyway, I’m glad to hear it.”
“How is Meredith?” she asked, suddenly feeling more in control as she realized he was less so.
His attitude became sullen as he studied the fingernails on his right hand. “She does well, I suppose. We’re not—how should I put this?—we’re not as compatible as I had hoped. She wanted children, which hasn’t happened. She’s grown embittered, and I’ve become less and less tolerant of her disappointment.” He brought his attention back to her face. “To be honest, I consider the marriage a failure.”
Jillian fidgeted in her chair, unc
omfortable with his disclosures. “Do you think you ought to be confiding in me like this, my lord? It seems awfully disloyal to Merry.”
His gaze turned deeply earnest. “I’ve missed you, Jillian. My God, I made the greatest mistake of my life when I did not marry you. I can only be grateful that you have chosen to forgive me, for I can’t forgive myself.”
“Come now, my lord, after all these years do you really expect me to believe that?”
“Yes, I do, because it’s true.”
She huffed impatiently, ignoring the impassioned plea in his words. “You did the right thing for you, my lord, because you could never have endured the gossip. And you were angry, very angry as I recall.”
“No, I was stupid, insensitive…jealous.” He clenched his teeth. “Damned if it had been anyone but Wickham. I couldn’t get past knowing that bastard had been alone with you. I kept imagining…” he trailed off as he cleared his throat. “Women found him irresistible. I never understood why.”
I do, Jillian thought, I most surely do. “I told you the truth, my lord. Nothing happened.”
“I know that now. I think I knew it then. If I’d had time to reconsider, but everything came about so quickly. Your father insisted I make a decision immediately. I made the wrong one.”
“Why are you telling me this now? There’s nothing to be served by voicing your remorse. You made your choice—we’ve both had to live with it.”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’ve grown hard over the years, Jillian. You were such a sweet, gentle young woman. What’s happened to you?”
“The reality of life after a scandal happened to me, my lord, and it’s not been easy. Even now I worry about sitting in a public place, afraid that someone will feel the need to prove to me that I am no longer worthy. I glance at the ceiling, the floor, the fountains, anywhere but in the face of another for fear of seeing scorn—or worse, that I don’t even exist anymore.”
Lionel reached over and took her hand. “I’m sorry,” he said in a gentle voice. “You have suffered.”
Embarrassed by the contact, Jillian eased from his grasp. “It’s not your fault,” she said tightly as she slipped her hand into her lap. “Your response was not unexpected.”
“Perhaps, but it was cowardly.”
Odd, that was Adrian’s assessment as well, she thought, watching her companion from beneath her lashes. Jillian wondered what the earl would think if he knew she sat here talking with the man to whom she had once been engaged. Frankly, she didn’t know how she felt about it herself.
“Jillian?”
She gave him a sharp glance, for the tone of his voice had grown husky, and she detected something urgent in his manner.
“Let me make it up to you.” His eyes glowed intensely.
“How do you propose to do that?”
“Meet with me, some place quiet where we can be alone.”
Jillian swallowed over a lump of disappointment. “Perhaps I’m being sensitive, but don’t you think your suggestion is a bit insulting?”
“Damn!” Lionel muttered. “I didn’t intend to insult you. I…we were meant for one another, can’t you see that? Though we’ve lost the chance to marry that doesn’t mean we can’t be together on occasion—if you know what I mean.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Yes, she did, and it made her feel ill to her stomach. “A slip on the shoulder, my lord? You’re no different than all the others.”
“The hell I’m not! I loved you once, Jillian. Flay me if you will but I can’t help it. I want to be with you.”
“I could not betray Meredith in that way.”
His expression turned ugly. “I don’t know why. After all, she betrayed you.”
“W-what are you implying?”
Lionel put his arms on the table and leaned forward, his gaze boring into hers. “Have you never wondered how your little trip to Dover came to public attention?”
“I don’t believe you,” she said in a horrified whisper.
“Oh, believe it for it is the truth, I swear.”
“Why would she do such a thing? Meredith was my friend.”
His mouth twisted into a nasty line. “That she’s never shared with me. But this I will tell you, after you left London she pursued me shamelessly. Gave herself to me when I was drunk and most despondent over you. I didn’t wed Meredith because I wanted to—I wed her because I had no choice. You see,” he said, his voice bitter with regret, “I did know how to play the part of the gentleman. I simply chose the wrong woman to protect.”
Jillian stared at him, the memory of Meredith’s infatuation with Lionel coming back to her in a rush. At the time she had thought it superficial, that her friend would get over her feelings when Jillian’s marriage became a reality. Apparently, that had not happened.
“Her dishonor does not justify my own,” she said, her words reedy with despair over Meredith’s treachery. Though Jillian had not seen her since the scandal, she could hardly believe her dearest friend had done her such a disloyal turn.
“She does not deserve your allegiance, Jillian. Be with me,” he pleaded. “Let us comfort one another.”
“Your comfort is tainted by self-indulgence. My allegiance is not aimed at your wife but at my own conscience.”
Oh why didn’t he just leave and let her mourn the death of the last of her treasured memories? Not once in eight long years had it occurred to her that Meredith had been at the center of her downfall. Jillian’s heart ached so at the moment, she wanted to place her head on the table and weep her grief. Again pride kept her from giving into an embarrassing inclination that would have left her feeling naked and exposed in a public place.
“I think you should go, my lord. Your revelations have not been welcome.” How proud she felt at the evenness of her voice, the blandness of the expression she gave him.
Lionel came to his feet but he delayed for a moment as though unsure. Finally he blurted, “I’m not ready to accept your answer, Jillian. Now after seeing you, I know my feelings for you have not altered. Both of us have been relegated to life without love. I think we should take what we can while we can.”
“Do you really want me to come to you, most probably for the malicious reason of wanting to spite your wife? That is what it would be, you know.”
That appeared to jar him for a moment, but then he put his hands on the table and leaned over her, eyes narrowing as he caught her gaze and held it. “Can’t even pretend to care for me, Jillian? Well, I’m not proud—I will take you whatever way you may choose to come to me. Just come, I beg you.”
He swung around and strode across the room.
Jillian wanted to vanish on the spot. Only a fool would believe her conversation with Lionel had gone unnoticed, her table hidden by palm leaves notwithstanding. Unable to lift her head to face the stares she felt certain were turned in her direction, she picked up her book, hands shaking uncontrollably. But the words blurred on the page, and she realized to her dismay that she was close to tears again.
“Jillian!”
Jillian glanced up through watery eyes to witness her aunt’s arrival at the table, the old woman flustered and breathless as though she had been running.
“Yes, Auntie?” she said quietly, fatalistically.
“Was that the Marquess of Edgeworth?”
“Yes, I believe it was.”
Her aunt lowered herself into one of the chairs. “Jillian, don’t be flippant. You must stay away from that man, especially since he looked at you as though he wanted to eat you.”
“He approached me, Aunt Pru. I was minding my own business, reading my book.” When her aunt only watched her in doubt, Jillian relented. “All right, I shouldn’t have allowed him to join me but I was taken by surprise.” She hesitated. “He really looked as though…?”
“Absolutely. It’s not good to inspire a reaction of that sort in a married man for all to see, even if it’s not your fault. People will comment, I can promise.”
&nb
sp; Jillian merely nodded wearily. “I was right from the beginning. I should stay out of sight.” Changing the subject, she said, “Where are Lady Alice and Cordelia?”
“I left them in the baths, afraid to leave you alone for long. It appears I was correct.”
Jillian felt too dejected to respond. She needed to tell her aunt about Meredith’s perfidy, but to say it aloud right now would be too painful, would bring emotions pouring out that she was not yet ready to face. Somehow she had to get used to the knowledge that her friend had not really been her friend at all. And somehow she must resist the temptation to exact the perfect revenge. To dally with Edgeworth would prove that in spite of Meredith’s scheming Lionel had never really cared for his wife. By his own admission he had wanted Jillian then and he wanted her now.
*****
She should have realized if Lionel was in Bath in all likelihood so was his wife. Ten days after her first meeting with Meredith’s husband, Jillian came upon the lady at the lending library in amongst the stacks of books.
The two women stopped, staring across the short space that separated them, both at a loss for words. At least, Jillian knew she was. For a brief instant she believed Meredith actually intended to walk away without acknowledging her.
“Jillian,” Meredith said at last, her green eyes as cool as her voice, “I heard you were in Bath. Since I’ve not seen you I had assumed you were keeping to yourself.”
“I’ve been out some. My Aunt Prudence—you remember my aunt—I’m here with her. I’ve been to the Pump Room and visited the Assembly Rooms once or twice, but I lead a quiet life.”
What Jillian did not say was on those occasions when she had ventured out, she had again been approached by Lionel. He had advanced on her as though waiting to see her and, in fact, he had admitted as much. She was beginning to feel hunted, and even Auntie Pru had decided Jillian should eliminate the public appearances for a while to stem the inevitable talk his attention would bring.
In the Garden of Disgrace Page 17