In the Garden of Disgrace

by Cynthia Wicklund

  Without further delay Phillip exited the parlor. Silence reigned until the footman closed the door after her cousin. Then she turned on the earl, relieved for the moment that she felt more anger than fear.

  “Why did you do that?” she spat.

  “Why did I do what?” the earl asked casually.

  “You know what I’m talking about. Why did you send my cousin away?”

  “Perhaps you heard something I did not. I don’t recall saying a word to Mr. Angsley.”

  “You looked at him. The way you…he knew you wanted him to leave.”

  Adrian sat on the settee without bothering to ask her permission. “I’ll not deny I wanted him to leave. I wanted to talk with you and he was perceptive enough to understand that.”

  Jillian continued to stand in the middle of the room, hands in tight fists at her side. “You’ve stolen another one if my relatives.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “You heard me. When did you become friends with Phillip?”

  “Why do you assume we are friends?”

  “He just told me he likes you. A right one, he called you. Are you going to tell me he made that determination based upon your reputation? If that were true I think he would have called you a scoundrel.”

  He smiled, seemingly unperturbed. “A right one?—did he now? I like him as well.”

  “You haven’t addressed my question.”

  “If you’ll sit down and talk to me without spitting fire, I’ll try to answer as best I can.”

  Jillian took the creaky seat Phillip had recently vacated, sitting primly, hands clasped in her lap. She didn’t speak but merely looked at him, impatient.

  “I’m disappointed, Jillian,” he said softly. “I was hoping you had missed me.”

  “How do you know Phillip, my lord?” she asked, refusing to be diverted.

  “I missed you.”

  She was appalled by how sweet those words sounded, how they tripped along her nerves making her heart sing. “Lord Wickham—Adrian—please, tell me about Phillip.”

  The earl drew in a lungful of air and released it. “All right, love, you defeat me. Phillip approached me in London a few days ago.”

  “Why?”

  “He had just come from seeing Simon, and your brother asked Phillip to return to the city to talk to me.”

  “About…?”

  “Edgeworth.”

  “Oh, why couldn’t they have left you out of this?” She wanted to wring her hands but instead continued to clutch them tightly in her lap.

  “I’d have found out sooner or later on my own. Besides, I’m involved, Jillian. How could you think I wouldn’t be?”

  She bristled. “Because I don’t want you to be. Because this is humiliating and I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “I can help.”

  “The only thing that will help is for me to go home and I can’t do that yet. Aunt Pru is not ready to leave.”

  “She’s still not well?”

  Jillian shook her head sadly. “I don’t think this trip has much to do with her ailment. She’s back in Bath near her friends and she’s happy. She stays in the country far more than she would if it were not for me. I hold her back and that’s not fair. She’s old and deserves to spend her last years pleasurably. I think that’s why she drinks in the country.”

  “Go home without her.”

  “She won’t let me. She says I need her for a chaperon.”

  Adrian’s eyes darkened with memory. “We both know she’s not good at it,” he said meaningfully.

  Jillian felt a thrill of excitement that caused her lungs to contract. She dropped her gaze to her hands which had begun to ache from their clasped condition, unable to think of anything remotely intelligent to say.

  “Jillian?”

  For the first time she detected a hesitation in him and she raised her eyes to meet his. “Yes?”

  “Is there cause for worry?”

  She knew to what he referred, and oddly she found the words hard to express. “You need not concern yourself, my lord. There is no child.” She deliberately kept her voice cool. “I think we will weather the crisis without exposure.”

  Adrian nodded but his gaze was so penetrating, it was as if he wanted to understand not only what was in her statement but in her soul.

  “You are happy then,” he said.

  Jillian thought relieved more aptly described her feelings but she did not dispute him. “How could I not be? Regardless of what you might think, I do hate being the object of gossip warranted or unwarranted.”

  “There is an easy solution to all your problems.”

  “Marriage?” When he dipped his head Jillian continued, deciding to be honest with him. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it? But every time I think on it I become frightened. I don’t know you, my lord. It took me a long time to find peace, and now my whole world is upside down. I don’t think I’ve ever been more confused.”

  “It’s Edgeworth,” he said darkly. “You still have feelings for him, don’t you?”

  Jillian stopped, surprised, for Lionel had not entered her mind. In fact, to compare the earl to Lord Edgeworth was no comparison at all. She might not know Adrian well but she knew for certain he was the better man. However, he had given her the perfect excuse.

  “Perhaps,” she lied. When his brows lowered ominously, she hurried on, “Perhaps not. I told you I’m confused. I don’t know what I feel right now.” That for the most part was true.

  Adrian stood and crossed the room to stand over her, his features a mask of furious determination. “If he comes near you I swear I’ll make him regret it.”

  She jumped to her feet which brought her within inches of his glowering face. Jillian could sense the outrage radiating from his rigid body, and she suddenly felt the need to tamp the anger she had carelessly started.

  “Adrian, please, for my sake do not bring attention to my plight. We’ll be right where we were eight years ago.” His attitude remained implacable thus she rushed on. “There are innocent people of whom we must think. Lionel is married.” He snorted his contempt, whether for Meredith or Meredith’s philandering husband she was uncertain. “Maybe you have a point,” she agreed, “but what about Aunt Prudence? And now Phillip is here. And don’t believe for a moment Simon and his family won’t be touched by a new scandal, for they will be.”

  “If I’m not mistaken the talk has already begun. Isn’t that what this is all about?”

  “Please.” Jillian touched his sleeve and looked at him imploringly.

  His attention drifted to her fingers resting lightly on his coat, the muscles of his jaw working while he clenched and unclenched his teeth. He brought his gaze back to hers, and what she saw glinting in his light blue eyes made her want to step away from him. Though her insides began to quiver she held her ground.

  “What will you give me?” he asked, the words hoarse.

  She blinked. “What do you want?”

  “Kiss me, Jillian.”

  “You’re angry at me,” she whispered, desire flickering into life. “You couldn’t possibly want to kiss me.”

  “Oh, but I do—I do.”

  “Will you promise to make no trouble where Lord Edgeworth is concerned?”

  “Where Edgeworth is concerned I make no promises. You must leave your old betrothed to me. But I will promise to avoid any scenes that might embarrass you or anyone for whom you care.”

  “That’s not much of a bargain.”

  “Is it better than the alternative?”

  Captivated by the gathering heat in his expression, Jillian nodded reluctantly. She was afraid to say no, afraid he would end the moment, for no matter how she denied it aloud in her heart she knew she had missed him.

  “Jillian?”

  “You give me no choice, my lord.”

  “Then…” Adrian brought his hand to the back of her neck.

  He took her lips hungrily and, dropping his hand, wrapped his arms around her and lifted he
r off the floor. He wanted her to kiss him? Well, she did, meeting him with equal fervor, savoring the feel of his warm mouth, running her fingers through his thick, dark hair.

  A startled gasp at the entrance to the parlor caused them to freeze. Jillian faced away from the door but Adrian did not, and the chagrin on his features told her they had been caught in the act. Slowly his hold on her loosened as he allowed her to slip downward until her feet touched the floor.

  Jillian steeled herself and swung around. As she had feared her aunt stood in the doorway, face bright red, huffing in embarrassment.

  “Dear me,” the old lady moaned, “I-I didn’t mean to intrude.” She stepped backward into the hall but stopped as if something had occurred to her. She marched into the room again. “No, no, that’s not how it goes. I’m the chaperon, you know. I’m supposed to say—” she turned on the earl, shaking her finger. “You forget yourself, young man!” Clearly pleased with herself, she asked, “What do you have to say to that?”

  Adrian, seeming disconcerted, grinned at Pru halfheartedly. “What can I say, ma’am? You are correct. In my defense, I can only say it’s been several weeks since I’ve seen your niece. Truth is I’ve missed her.”

  Jillian glanced at him and a very tender emotion—one she refused to identify—clogged her throat. He looked endearingly handsome in his contrition, hair all mussed, and she wondered if perhaps she had wronged him. Adrian said he had missed her, not only when he wanted to seduce her but had said the same to Aunt Pru just now. And he had proved it because as angry as he had been with her, he had come back. She was going to have to think about that, yes, she was…

  “And I should think so,” Prudence was saying in a severe voice, although she appeared to have lost her momentum as if Adrian’s earnest confession had touched her also.

  “I will take my leave of you, ladies,” the earl said. He turned to Jillian. “I see no reason for you to hide in this house. Phillip is here to play escort and I will do what I can. Might as well brave it out.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she muttered.

  He smiled ruefully. “Nothing’s easy where you are concerned, love.”

  She saw him to the door then returned to the parlor where she knew her aunt awaited her.

  “Go ahead,” Jillian said upon entering the room and flopping on the settee. “Say what you will. I deserve it. I don’t know what gets into me when that man is around. I’m either in a seething rage or…” she trailed off, unable to continue aloud with the thought without divulging things best left unsaid.

  “And who can blame you, dear.” Pru sighed the words, her gaze distant as she sat down next to her niece. “Can’t ever remember being kissed by a gentleman like that. If I weren’t old and debilitated I might almost be envious.”

  “Why, Aunt Pru, there are sides to you I’ve never guessed.”

  “Naturally, there are. I was young once. Now I suggest we come back to the present,” Prudence said briskly. “You must make a decision, Jillian. Either you want this young man or you do not. Your lack of resolve becomes foolish.”

  “Auntie?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you ever been in love, not infatuation but really in love?”

  “I thought so once. As the years passed I wasn’t as certain.”

  “Why didn’t you marry him?”

  The old woman looked at her directly. “He didn’t ask me.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “It was for the best, dear.” Aunt Pru patted Jillian’s hand as though her niece were the one who should be comforted.

  “Don’t you see? Maybe that’s the way it is for me as well. I’m attracted to Lord Wickham—I like him even—but I’m not certain we suit. Marriage is not something one can put on easily and take off when it becomes inconvenient as if it were a coat. It is a permanent condition. I don’t know if I’m ready.”

  Prudence nodded. “One of the decisions you have to make.”

  “And Adrian is very managing, you know.”

  “Most men are. The trick is in discovering which ones will share the power, which ones will be fair. A wise man does not hoard the deck of cards simply because he can. He cuts the deck in two equal parts and gives his wife half. That way she can be in the game. Otherwise he plays alone and there’s hardly any sport in that.”

  “Very philosophical.” Jillian smiled her surprise.

  “Point is, dear, you have no reason to be distrustful. You’ve had wonderful examples of fine men all around you—your father and most assuredly Simon—loyal, trustworthy. You should be able to judge Lord Wickham with a learned eye. If you’re asking me, I think the earl is a good man. He’s sown his oats and he’s now ready to settle down.”

  Jillian was beginning to think the same way. “Thing is,” she felt her cheeks redden for what she was about to say, “he’s very overpowering. I feel swallowed up by his presence. Sometimes it is rather exciting, and other times…”

  “Well, yes, a gentleman with his charisma, I see what you mean. But, Jillian, I suspect you have much the same effect on him. He hardly takes his eyes off you when you are in the room.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “I think he’s angry with me right now,” Jillian said, picking nonexistent lint from her skirt.

  Aunt Prudence chuckled. “Of course, he is since you go out of your way to anger him. Does him good, probably. Keeps him wondering. It is never prudent to allow a man with his sort of ego to become too confident.”

  “He believes I still care for Lord Edgeworth.”

  “You told him that?”

  Jillian cringed under her aunt’s appalled stare. “Not exactly. He said it and I didn’t disagree with him.”

  “Why, Jillian? Why?” Aunt Prudence came off the settee and stood over her, hands on hips. “I think you had better give some thought to why you are acting self-destructively. Making a man jealous, one as intense as Lord Wickham, can be a dangerous thing. There is a difference between keeping a gentleman wondering and precipitating a disaster, especially when you care nothing for Lord Edgeworth.” She looked at her niece with that erratic perceptiveness—always unexpected—which made those subjected to it squirm. “I’m right, aren’t I? You don’t care for Lord Edgeworth, do you?”

  “No, I don’t. I feared at first I might because I thought I loved him once. Even that I’m not certain of any more.” Jillian rose from the settee to stand by her aunt. “In fact, I have felt my misfortune in many ways over the years, however, I begin to see that I should be thankful. I can’t help wondering what my life would be like if I were married to Lionel today.”

  Aunt Pru’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. “Indeed.”

  And after all, what more was there to say?

  *****

  Adrian strode back and forth the length of his rented room, chewing on his anger as if it were a piece of grizzled meat. Chewing, yes, but he damned sure wasn’t going to swallow it. He had known from the beginning he must overcome Jillian’s reservations, but it had not occurred to him that he might have to defeat the specter of a lost love.

  Jillian obviously had never looked at Edgeworth with a critical eye. If she had she would have seen that Lionel Hemsley was the same variety of man as the one whom Adrian had killed in self-defense on a dueling field eight years before— dishonest, a profligate, a man who would cause any woman who loved him an extraordinary amount of pain. That was how he perceived Edgeworth in the past, and he suspected the bounder had not changed in the intervening years.

  Something else bothered Adrian as well. He was surprised by how stung he had felt when Jillian had not denied her interest in her former fiance. After what they had experienced together, could she put an old and probably immature love ahead of her feelings for him? The earl found that possibility untenable.

  He’d had many weeks while in London to assess his growing attachment for Jillian. At first he had decided he “cared” for her, a caring primarily based on ph
ysical attraction. The attraction was still there, no doubt, as he had been forcefully reminded when he had seen her this afternoon. But there was something else, something he now was obliged to confront.

  He loved Jillian and the thought unnerved him, more because of her attitude than because of the condition itself. If she would come to him in a like state of mind instead of insisting on fighting him, then he was ready to submit to the inevitable—and gladly. Unfortunately, it appeared she had no intention of doing what was expedient. She means to make me suffer for what I want, he thought in frustration. The one thing soothing his irritation was the cocksure knowledge that in the end he would win.

  A knock at the door caused him to halt in mid-stride.

  “Yes?” he called.

  Through the door he heard, “Lord Wickham, it’s me Phillip Angsley.”

  Adrian crossed the room and released the latch, allowing Jillian’s cousin to enter. “Phillip,” he greeted, thrusting out his hand, “come in. I hope you have some information for me.”

  “Some, my lord.” Phillip shook the earl’s hand as he entered the small apartment.

  “Good. May I pour you a brandy?”

  “That would be nice, thank you.”

  Adrian quickly filled a glass for each of them and the men sat in two chairs, one on either side of the fireplace.

  Phillip took a sip of his drink. “Very good, my lord,” He paused. “Uh…how did it go with my cousin?”

  The earl took a sip as well, using the brief respite to determine how best to couch his answer. He brought the glass from his mouth, studying the potent liquid.

  “You know Jillian better than I do. She’s sensitive and distrusting. I cannot breathe without her questioning my motives. First she castigated me for running you away. Then she accused me of ‘stealing’ you.”

  “Stealing me?”

  “She has this ridiculous notion that I’m deliberately turning everyone who cares about her against her.”

  “That is ridiculous. Why do you think she feels that way?” “I guess because everyone, including her Aunt Prudence, agrees that she and I should marry. However, the more everyone agrees the more she resists.” He took another swig of his drink, breathing out the aromatic fumes through his mouth.