“Phillip is taking me home.”
Adrian allowed his gaze to travel to the young man in question. “Oh?”
Phillip shrugged, his mien one of outright misery. “She insists, my lord.”
“I insist we go outside,” the earl said. “We’ll discuss who rides with whom away from prying eyes.”
He pulled Jillian through the door, stopping long enough to give instructions to the doorman for the retrieval of his carriage. He motioned at Phillip to follow, for that young man had stayed put in the vestibule, clearly reluctant to be involved in any more turmoil. Her cousin came but without visible enthusiasm.
Outside on the walk the trio waited quietly because patrons of the Assembly Rooms continued to come and go and there was little privacy. Adrian glanced at Jillian but her bearing was closed and distant. Shortly thereafter his carriage rolled to the curb, and he took her arm to help her into the vehicle.
Jillian jerked away from him. “I want to go home with Phillip.”
“Get in the carriage, Jillian.”
“No.” She turned pleading eyes on her cousin. “Phillip?”
Adrian pitied the fellow, for Jillian was forcing her cousin to choose between loyalty and inclination, and the earl suspected she knew it.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” Phillip said, his attitude resigned in the face of Jillian’s determination, “but Jilly’s family.”
The earl admired Angsley’s mettle, and the curt nod he gave the young man indicated as much. But he had no intention of being denied. Phillip had done the right thing, therefore, Jillian was the one who would have to relent. Adrian sent his gaze to her, catching an expression of smug satisfaction on her lovely face.
“Too bad, Phillip” he drawled, continuing to watch Jillian, “for I like you. Unfortunate we must come to blows over a situation not of our own making—at least not of yours.”
Phillip, evidently catching the earl’s ruse, dipped his blonde head in agreement, a smirk lurking about his mouth. But Jillian didn’t, for her eyes grew round with indignation.
“You wouldn’t dare!” she sputtered.
Adrian gazed at her sorrowfully. “I’m afraid you leave me no choice, my dear.”
He watched her indecision, the bubbling anger, and for the very life of him the only emotion he felt was a burgeoning affection. Oh, she was prickly, was his Jillian. He had to restrain himself from laughing aloud.
“I see I’m out maneuvered,” she said, glaring at her cousin—seemed she had guessed more than the earl had at first thought.
“Very gracious, to be sure,” Adrian said, smiling. She twitched her skirts at him, obviously only tolerating his hold on her arm as he helped her into the carriage. Jillian moved across the seat to the far corner so that all he could see in the darkened space was a pair of offended eyes shining out at him from the gloom.
He turned to Phillip, taking the young man’s hand. “Thank you Angsley.” Then to the coachman, he said, “Once around the park,” before he climbed into the vehicle, sitting opposite his unwilling companion and closing the door.
The mood in the carriage was stifling. Adrian, vision now accustomed to the black, recognized Jillian’s rigid outline as she continued to huddle in silence against the wall of the carriage. What he wanted most was to take her in his arms and breach the emotional barrier she had erected between them.
“How important is Edgeworth to you, Jillian?”
“This is not about Lionel,” she said, waving her hand in dismissal.
“Perhaps, but I would deem it a favor if you would tell me the part he plays in all this.”
“He plays no part at all. For some reason you have determined that I still care for Lord Edgeworth.”
“I determined that because you said you cared for him.”
“No. You said I did. I just never disabused you of the notion. Big difference, I think.”
Adrian was stunned by the relief her words engendered in him. “You’re not in love with him?”
She turned her head in his direction and again her eyes gleamed at him across the carriage. “I don’t think I ever loved him—at least, not the way I now imagine love should be. I suspect it was infatuation. You must admit he was very handsome.”
“Sorry, don’t have to admit any such thing,” he muttered in distaste. He wanted to be angry with her for having lied to him but he was too intrigued by why she had done it. “What was the point in misleading me?”
“No point, really.” He sensed her impatience. “I was angry at you. And, Lord Wickham, as much as I hate to confess it you do bring out the worst in me.”
“And the best?” Adrian murmured shrewdly, beginning to feel better and better.
“Depends on what you think that is.” Before he could respond, she asked, “What happened between you and Lionel?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Try me,” she said, sounding oddly defiant.
“I hit him.”
“You did?”
“On the nose. Haven’t felt anything that satisfying in ages.”
“Oh, famous!” she said, continuing to astonish him. “That is the very thing I would like to have done.”
Adrian grinned like an idiot. “Jillian, slow down. One moment you are furious with me for making a scene and the next you’re offering applause. Now which is it?—are you mad at me or not?”
“Course I am. I’m just madder at Lord Edgeworth, that’s all.”
“Why? Has he insulted you?”
She huffed aloud. “He wants me to become his mistress.”
“By damned,” the earl gritted out, “I should have done more than bend his nose. I should have strung him up by his ears.”
“You’re not surprised, are you?” Jillian said, the words pragmatic. “What other relationship could he have had in mind?”
“You are taking it rather well, I must say.”
“Actually,” her voice broke, “I’m finding all of this very difficult.”
Adrian leaned forward at once attuned to her distress. “What, sweetheart, what is it?”
“M-Meredith was at the Assembly Rooms tonight.” She looked at him through shadowy eyes that glistened with tears. “She hates me, and really it is I who should hate her.” She opened her reticule, rummaging through the contents of the bag until she found a lace hanky to dab at her nose.
Adrian moved across the carriage to sit by her and gave in to the inclination that had been foremost in his mind—he took her in his arms.
“Tell me, love,” he said, “I don’t understand.”
“She’s the one who told on me, the one who started the rumors after the duel. And when I think on it, it all makes sense for who else could have known?—except Phillip and he never would have revealed the story. It was all right there before me and I never guessed.”
“Good God, why? No, don’t answer that,” he said, appalled. “She wanted Edgeworth?”
“Yes.” She sniffed into her hanky.
“You must despise her.”
She raised her face to his. “That’s the amazing thing—I don’t despise her. The most I’ve been able to summon—after, I admit, a raging temper—is pity. I keep thinking of how she tricked me and the wretched life she has received for her efforts, and I feel somehow as though she did me a favor.”
Adrian felt a warmth expand through his chest that made him feel almost giddy, and he hugged her tighter, smoothing his hand across the top of her hair.
“I do believe we make progress,” he murmured.
“What do you mean?” she said into the lapel of his coat.
“If you are no longer regretting the past then perhaps you can move on to the future. And perhaps…just perhaps you can begin to forgive me.”
Jillian pulled back from him, searching his face. “What are you trying to say? I’ve been angry at you lately but there’s no need for forgiveness. We don’t deal well with each other. That’s all there is to it.”
“I’m not spea
king of lately and you know it. I’m referring to eight years ago when in your estimation I ruined your life.”
She pushed at his chest, trying to break his hold. “I have never held you responsible for my downfall. It was I—I should have known better. I’m to blame and only I.”
“So you’ve scrupulously said over and over—but you’ve never believed it. For all your effort to attach accountability where it truly belongs, in your heart you’ve held me to blame. If you can’t come to terms with that, then you are correct, Jillian, we can never make a go of it. The truth is, we are both to blame, and we’ve both paid a price for our sins. Even your friend Meredith is not wholly at fault. After all, through our foolishness we gave her the ammunition to bring us down.”
“Maybe…” she said softly.
“Do you know how sweet that one word sounds?” he asked huskily, drawing her back into his embrace and placing his chin on the top of her head. “Isn’t it time we end this torment?”
“Do you know how frightened I am sometimes?” she whispered.
“How frightened, love?”
Adrian felt as though Jillian had poured the contents of her deepest feelings onto his lap, and he was touched profoundly for he knew she was loath to admit any frailty.
“Sometimes my heart feels as though it will burst from my chest it pounds so hard.”
“Even now?” he asked.
“Even now.”
Adrian took his right hand and with infinite care placed it on her rib cage, his fingers caressing the soft undercurve of her breast, his palm directly over her heart. He felt the pulsating of the agitated organ and he closed his eyes, absorbing the rhythm as it melded with the rapid cadence of his own.
After a moment she moved, and he was disappointed to realize she intended to release his hold. He was wrong. Jillian raised her face to his, her expression drawn and pale with her own private struggle. She then splayed slim fingers and rested them over his, pressing his hand more firmly to her side. For a long time—he did not know how long—they remained thus, neither moving as they shared the power of the intimate contact.
Adrian was aware of the quiet outside the carriage, the clip clop of the horses’ hooves on the paved road as the animals pulled their load, the occasional command of the solitary driver. The earl ceased to breathe, fearful that the interlude would end long before he was ready.
He wanted to kiss her and desire rose and gathered in him like the tempest of a storm, threatening to drown them in a deluge of his making. But even more than that—even more than that—another emotion came to the fore. Recently, he had told himself that he loved her and he had believed it, yes, he had. But not till this moment had he truly experienced it. Strange, how something as supposedly uncomplicated as caring for another could so alter one’s perspective. He leaned his forehead against hers, feeling more humble than he though possible.
Despite his rising hunger, Adrian held himself in check, convinced Jillian would be upset if he tried to turn the tenderness into passion—not that the two sentiments were disconnected. In fact, the emotions flowed one into the other until he could not distinguish them apart.
All too soon the ride ended as the carriage pulled up to Aunt Prudence’s townhouse. And yet, in the thirty minutes since they had left the Assembly Rooms, the earl believed Jillian and he had made excellent progress toward understanding one another. Not to say tomorrow she wouldn’t be her old prickly self, doing her best to antagonize him. But now he looked forward to the prospect because tonight she had revealed an innermost part of herself, and that revelation had renewed his hope.
He opened the door of the carriage after gently disengaging himself from the embrace he shared with her. Leaping from the vehicle, he helped her to the ground. Jillian kept her head lowered as though embarrassed, taking his arm without demurring as they made their way up the walk.
At the step he took her hand, unsure of himself as if he were a green lad. “I love you, Jillian.”
She looked at him for a long time without speaking, and Adrian had the distinct impression she was evaluating his words, his sincerity. As always, her response was not the one he expected.
“Be certain you mean it, my lord,” she said.
“Do you believe I’m not up to the task?” he asked gently.
She reached up and touched the bridge of his cheek with her fingertips. “I have all the faith in you—it’s I of whom I’m uncertain.”
“I have faith enough for both of us,” he declared, grabbing her hand from his face and kissing her palm fervently.
“That’s a very good thing, Adrian,” Jillian said, smiling at him sadly, “because I think you are going to need it.”
*****
Jillian, still wearing her gown and wrap, her reticule dangling from her wrist, slumped on the chaise lounge in her bedchamber, exhausted. The nervousness she had felt this evening in Adrian’s carriage was nothing compared to the turmoil that presently had her in its grip.
Adrian loved her!
What an amazing revelation that was and totally unexpected although she didn’t know why, for he had gone to such lengths lately to prove he cared. Why had she not returned the favor by declaring herself as well? She knew by the eager expression on his dark features that he had wanted her to do so. However, she also felt certain he had not expected it which was just as well, for the words were still lodged somewhere in her breast in that treacherous muscle that had rattled so tonight.
How gentle Adrian had been, how kind. She believed the earl truly understood her confusion and distrust, and he had done his best to make her feel better when she had been nearly crushed with heartache. Jillian smiled to herself—she did feel better, much better.
And the earl had landed Lord Edgeworth a facer. Not that she wanted the two men to fight over her. Gossip would erupt tomorrow bringing her more censure, for only an idiot would fail to understand her connection to the brawling. And unluckily those who were idiots had the more perceptive to enlighten them thus she was doomed.
Now what am I to do? she wondered as she staggered wearily to her feet from the chaise lounge. The earl had turned everything on its head, not the least of which was her reasoning. Jillian had been set against a marriage that sprang primarily from practical considerations but if Adrian loved her…
And if she loved him…
Jillian dropped the wrap from her shoulders to the floor and the reticule on top of that. Her dress followed. Still wearing her petticoat, she blew out the one candle in the room then walked to her bed and climbed upon the mattress, rolling onto her back. She stared into the dark, her eyes wide with thought despite her fatigue.
One thing bothered her. With all the tense emotion in that carriage this evening, Adrian had not demanded his kiss. Seemingly, the fraught atmosphere would have provided him with the perfect excuse and yet he had not taken it. Why? Her restlessness was not eased one iota by the certain knowledge that she had expected that kiss, had wanted it. Jillian plumped her pillow and moved onto her side and, as she remembered the longing on Adrian’s face, she felt her body relax.
Eight years ago the Earl of Wickham had entered her sphere, creating havoc, changing her life forever. As she drifted off to sleep she realized she was not viewing his intrusion with antipathy or even irritation but with something akin to hope.
*****
CHAPTER 13
Despite being certain she would never sleep following her emotional exchange with Adrian, Jillian had gone unconscious soon after laying down, a dreamless slumber that had left her feeling refreshed. She had risen late and taken her breakfast in bed, both nearly unheard of circumstances. In fact, Aunt Prudence came to check on Jillian just to make certain all was well.
“Jillian, it’s I, Aunt Pru,” her aunt said from the other side of the bedchamber door. “Are you ill this morning?”
Jillian bade her aunt enter. “I’m fine, Auntie, just being lazy,” she said, still nestled in the covers, a tray on her lap.
“But, dear, you never stay in bed.”
Jillian smiled sweetly. “Perhaps it is time I did things I never do. Don’t want to be known as stubborn now, do I?”
Aunt Prudence smiled weakly in return, walking deeper into the room. “I think it’s a bit late for that, dear.”
Her niece sat straight and removed the tray from her lap. “Then I had better start working on how I appear to others, for I feel very strongly that I am in the middle of change.”
“I see…What has brought this on?”
“A good night’s rest, I think—more perspective maybe.”
Prudence eyed her critically. “What happened when you left the Assembly Rooms with Lord Wickham last night? You were alone with him longer than was proper. You reached home after I did. I know because I heard your entrance.”
“Don’t you feel it’s time we stop worrying about what people think?” Jillian asked, sighing. “After all, the ton will believe what they want to believe. I have no control over that. What I can control is what I believe, and that’s what I intend to do.”
“When I hear that tone in your voice it makes me nervous,” her aunt said, coming to stand by the bed. She laid a plump hand on Jillian’s arm. “However, what you are saying is quite positive and I begin to feel positive as well.” She paused. “Do you have an announcement for me?”
“Not yet—perhaps soon.”
“Oh, Jillian,” the old woman cried, “I’m so happy.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?” Jillian, suddenly uneasy, pulled back the coverlet and climbed off the mattress. “I hope I’m given the chance to make decisions without being pressed. I must come to terms with a future I had not expected, and I want to feel comfortable with my choices.”
“Of course, dear, of course.” Auntie Pru fairly skipped her round bulk across the room. “I’ll leave you to dress.”
She watched Pru leave, half-irritated, half-amused. It probably was not a good idea to engender hope in her aunt since Jillian had many unanswered questions to address before she accepted the earl’s offer.
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