Not five minutes later as she tied a ribbon in her hair her aunt rushed back into the room. Jillian swung around to meet Prudence’s harried expression.
“Auntie? What’s happened? You look as though you’ve seen something frightful.”
“Almost as bad. You have a visitor.”
“Who? Adrian?” When her aunt shook her head wildly, Jillian said, “Don’t keep me in suspense. Tell me.”
“Lady Edgeworth,” Pru said in a dramatic undertone.
“Meredith?”
Her aunt nodded her head vigorously.
“Why is she here?”
“Well, I don’t know I’m sure.”
“This is awkward.” Jillian forced herself to take a deep breath. “I suppose I’ll have to see what she wants.”
Aunt Prudence nodded her agreement and the two women descended the stairs to the sitting room.
Lady Edgeworth looked terrible, red hair pulled back as fraying wisps edged her haggard face. She was gaunt, very gaunt, and deep circles underscored her eyes. She sat stiff-backed and stiff-necked on the settee, her reticule clenched like a twisted rag in her hands. Jillian might have felt sorry for her if Meredith’s expression had not been quite so mean.
“Lady Edgeworth,” Jillian began, determined to keep the interview impersonal, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”
She took a seat in a high-backed chair across from her guest while Aunt Prudence hovered nervously in the doorway.
Meredith’s gaze traveled to the old woman. “What I have to say I would like to keep between you and me, Lady Jillian.”
“Oh dear, yes, of course—I’m sorry,” Prudence spluttered, clearly embarrassed. “Didn’t mean to intrude.” She retreated immediately, pulling the door behind her.
“Nicely done, Meredith.”
The other woman bristled. “You needn’t sound so offended, Jillian. We both know you have no right to be.”
“Perhaps you should come to the point of your visit. We could trade insults all day but that would accomplish little.”
Meredith drew in a shaky breath. “Edgeworth didn’t come home last night.”
“This is unusual?”
“Under the circumstances it is.”
“And just what are those circumstances, pray tell?” Jillian asked coolly, conceding nothing.
“You know—you know.” Meredith perched on the edge of the seat cushion, her voice rising shrilly as she continued to mangle her reticule. “You’re trying to take my husband from me.”
“What precisely have I done to give you that impression?”
“Everyone says it is true.”
“Everyone?”
“Yes, and given your reputation what am I to think?”
Jillian came to her feet, her body shaking with the effort to control a sudden burst of outrage. “Do you know, Meredith,” she said, the words deceptively serene, “sometimes it is very inconvenient to be a woman, for if I were a man right now I would beat you senseless.”
“How dare you!”
“No! How dare you. I’ve lived with your perfidy for years, and now you have the gall to blame me for something you did? You are in misery, clearly, and I think you deserve every bit of it.”
Meredith went very still, her expression going from righteous anger to something akin to shame. “You know then.”
“I know.”
“I was afraid of that when I saw you in the lending library. Who told you?”
“Lionel.”
Meredith put her face in her hands and wept.
Nonplussed, Jillian slipped back into her chair to wait out the storm. Her impulse was to offer comfort but she found herself incapable of doing so. After several moments of listening to the heartbroken sobs she reached into her bodice, pulling out a lace hanky, and handed it to the weeping woman.
Meredith took it, sniffing into the linen square. “He must really hate me to have done such a disloyal thing.”
“Was it hate that motivated you when you were disloyal to me?” Jillian asked quietly.
“No, no, I swear. I—” Meredith stopped, her eyes widening with sudden hope.
“Exactly. I don’t think he hates you. But that was a moment of spite on his part when he told on you, motivated, I imagine by anger. No one likes to be manipulated.”
“I know,” Meredith said gulping on another sob. “But I loved him so, much more than you did I’m certain—”
“I’m certain you are right.”
Meredith continued as though she had not heard Jillian speak. “—You were always so well-liked. Everyone admired you—not just the gentlemen but the ladies as well. You had numerous offers, and…” She looked at Jillian as though she only now comprehended Jillian’s words. “What did you say?”
“I said I’m certain you loved Lionel more than I did. I was very young and, I suspect, in love with love.”
“But if you want him I haven’t a chance.”
“Why do you keep saying that? I don’t want him.”
“He says you do.”
“Then he’s delusional. I’ve asked him more than once to stay away from me. Besides…” Jillian paused, wondering how much to admit, but she was determined to put the other woman’s mind at rest—at least on this one issue. “There’s a chance I might marry someone else.”
“Whom?”
Another confession. “Adrian St. John, Earl of Wickham.”
“Lord Wicked?” Meredith breathed. “Oh my!”
“Yes, although just so you know, I have the very clear impression he does not like that name.”
“Is…is that why Lionel and Lord Wickham were involved in an ‘incident’ last night? Over you, I mean?”
Jillian winced. “I’m afraid so.”
“Then there is no hope,” Meredith said, her shoulders slumping. “Lionel has made up his mind.”
Jillian came out of her chair once more. “For heaven’s sake, your husband is so busy pining over the past he doesn’t know what he wants. I understand because I’ve been doing the same thing for years. What you have to mend with Edgeworth has little to do with me. It is his trust in you that is broken.”
Meredith nodded forlornly as she swiped at her eyes with the damp handkerchief. “There’s something else.” There was an odd inflection in her voice.
“Yes?”
“I’m increasing.”
Jillian stared at her, shocked. How could a couple with a relationship this badly torn make peace long enough to…? She could think of nothing to say. “Congratulations” seemed inappropriate knowing what she did and “I’m sorry” cruel.
Finally she asked. “Does Lionel know?”
Meredith dissolved into tears again. “I’m afraid to tell him. You have no idea how unpleasant he has been since he first came across you here in Bath. Seeing you brought back all the old memories.”
“Meredith, I don’t want to be unkind but my understanding is that Lionel has not been an exemplary husband from the beginning of your marriage.”
“I had hoped the baby would make a difference.”
How many women had hoped that very thing over the ages to little avail? Jillian wondered. She gave into her more compassionate instincts and joined Meredith on the settee.
“I wish I knew how to help you, Merry. I don’t know Edgeworth well enough to determine how he will respond. The best I can do is to tell you I’m no threat.”
“Thank you,” Meredith said. “You’ve been more generous than I deserve.”
“I would ask a favor of you.”
“I will try.”
“Please don’t mention my relationship with Adrian, ah…the Earl of Wickham to anyone. It would complicate a matter that is already delicate.”
“You would trust me?”
“If you promise then I will be reassured.”
“I promise.”
Standing, Meredith retrieved her crumpled reticule. Her face was blotchy from shedding many tears but her expression had altered greatly in the last
thirty minutes. The women walked silently to the entry hall.
At the front door, Jillian said, “I have confidence all will come about for you, Merry.”
Meredith stepped onto the walk then turned back to the doorway. “I don’t suppose you and I might be friends again?” Her words were laced with regret.
“Of course, we can.”
The other woman nodded, but Jillian did not misread the realization in Meredith’s eyes. Both of them knew there would be no more friendship. Something that dead could not be revived.
*****
That afternoon a note arrived from Adrian. He wanted to take a carriage ride. He would arrive at four o’clock.
This intelligence sent Jillian into a pucker. She had no idea why an arranged meeting seemed so serious, but she suspected it highlighted the progression of her relationship with Adrian.
She dressed carefully, pulling one of her new frocks from the wardrobe. She needed help with the fasteners on the back of the costume, and her maid Hannah obliged. Carefully choosing her bonnet and gloves she then looked in the mirror, feeling the effort was worth it.
A soft, sea-mist green, the frock enhanced her dark hair and eyes, and the bonnet with one curling feather gracing the brim was the perfect accent. She wondered if Adrian would know she had gone to an especial effort to please him—and what he would think of that effort. At five minutes after four o’ clock, on a lazy August afternoon, she learned the answer to her question.
The Earl of Wickham stood in the entry and watched Jillian descend the stairs, his expression filled with admiration.
“Lady Jillian,” he murmured, placing a warm kiss on her hand when she reached the bottom step, “Is all this radiant beauty for my benefit?”
Jillian blushed, the formality of the situation causing her to feel discomfited. Not that the thrill of a flirtation wasn’t stimulating, but she liked it better when she and Adrian were comfortable with one another, when they did not have to put on a contrived face to meet a certain circumstance. Still, it had been a long time since she had been courted, and the earl’s open appreciation touched her vanity in a very gratifying way.
“Shall we go?” she asked.
“By all means.”
He took her arm and they left the townhouse, strolling down the walk to the earl’s phaeton.
“Is this carriage new, my lord?”
Adrian smiled. “Yes, indeed. Do you like it?”
“Very dashing.”
They continued their small talk as the earl helped Jillian into the phaeton. He climbed in beside her, snapping the reins.
The ride began silently, Jillian still feeling uneasy as she intercepted an occasional intimate glance from her companion.
“You look beautiful today, Jillian,” he said.
“I must look awful most of the time or you wouldn’t make such to-do on my appearance today.”
“Good Lord, woman, you do have a way of finding the worst perspective on my meaning.” He spoke sharply, not taking his gaze from the road. “Is this an effort to start a disagreement with me? If it is I warn you right now, I have no intention of going along with it.”
Jillian flicked him a peek from beneath lowered lashes. He was correct. Once again she found herself wanting to create an emotional barrier that would keep him from getting too close. It was an old defense, one she should probably put to bed. The earl was clenching his jaw as if annoyed and she reached over and touched his arm.
“I’m sorry. I’m having to learn again how to graciously accept a compliment,” she said candidly. “Believe it or not there is an art to it and I fear I have forgotten it.”
Adrian gave her a long, assessing look. “I was sincere.”
Again, honestly, “I know—I’m nervous, I suppose.”
“With me?” When she dipped her head, he said, “I’d rather you were not.”
“So would I but it’s not always that easy.” She paused. “You know, this outing is sure to be noted by someone.”
“That is what I had hoped.”
“You did?”
They had navigated Bennet Street which led to The Circus in Upper Town, and the earl slowed the horses. He drove onto the carriage lane that circled the interior of the complex before answering her.
“My argument with Edgeworth last night did not go unnoticed. I thought it necessary for me to stem the damage.”
“How will being seen with me in public help?”
“Jillian, consider,” he said. “You are the center of the gossip whether we like it or not, two gentlemen fighting over a lady. But if you are seen with me, if you have clearly made a choice, it is Edgeworth who will look unprincipled in the eyes of the ton—a married man chasing after a woman who is affianced to another makes him a dastardly fellow.”
Jillian shrugged one slim shoulder. “It probably won’t do you any good. As Meredith so aptly put it, with my reputation being what it is, what is everyone to think?”
“That’s a damnable thing to say,” the earl said, frowning. “When did she tell you that?”
“She visited me earlier today. Came with a wretched attitude, but I think I’ve eased some of her worry at least with regards to me.”
“Oh?” His voice was casual, but she knew she had caught his attention.
“I told her I’m not interested in Lionel, and I agreed with her—I don’t think I ever loved him the way she does.”
“And she believed you? How did you manage that?”
They were driving under an oak tree, and Jillian rode high enough in the phaeton to reach over her head, grabbing at and plucking a leaf from a low-hanging branch. She used the action to hide her confusion, twisting the leaf in nervous fingers.
Adrian turned to stare at her. “Jillian?”
“I told her there was someone else.”
“Did you, by God! Were you telling fairy tales or did you mean it?” He placed his hand over her gloved ones, stemming the thoughtless action of her fingers. “Jillian, look at me.”
Jillian dragged her gaze from the earl’s warm hand and forced herself to meet his scrutiny. “I believed what I told her, Adrian.”
“And do you believe it now?” His eyes darted away from her for a quick check on the progress of the carriage before he looked at her again. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
The grin he turned on her caused her heart to flip-flop in her breast. Dear lord, the man had a wonderful smile.
Jillian raised a brow at him. “I have the impression you believe the person of whom I spoke was you.”
His grin continued unabated. “It was not?”
“I didn’t say that. I merely think you should not leap to any hasty conclusions.”
Adrian leaned close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. “But I want to, I really want to.” Jillian sent him a sidelong glance and, as she did, her gaze fell on a group of pedestrians who strolled the walk. She recognized two or three of the individuals but no one greeted the earl and her. One young lady began whispering behind her hand to the person closest to her. Jillian did notice that a lone gentleman, a Lord Wentworth if she remembered correctly, gave Adrian a slight nod of recognition, but for the most part they could consider themselves snubbed. For long moments after that the earl and she did not speak.
“I’m sorry,” Adrian said at last.
“Very interesting thing about anticipating a situation,” she said meditatively. “One’s imagination can conjure the worst kind of scenario and reality rarely lives up to it. Though that was not a pleasant confrontation, I’m not devastated, either.”
His relief was palpable. “You always surprise me.”
“Why? I’ve had time to become accustomed to public opinion. I’ve ventured out recently, and except for Aunt Pru’s friends, no one has tried to associate with me. Those people on the street just gave me the first real direct cut I’ve received, however, it was not unexpected. Last night at the Assembly Rooms I detected quite a bit of hostility when
I danced with Phillip.”
“It will become better with time,” he said gently.
“The question is, are you certain you wish to be married to a social pariah?”
“I think you can safely assume that I am regarded much as you are, Jillian. We are a matched set.”
She plucked at her skirt impatiently. “Oh please. I saw Lord Wentworth acknowledge you though he was not overt about it. The gentlemen of your acquaintance admire you, think you are a ‘right one’ as my cousin put it. Deny that if you will.”
“I can’t, not when you put it that way.” Adrian sighed. “It’s not fair but in answer to your original question, I would be honored if you would accept my proposal.” He pulled the carriage to a stop and turned to her, his expression earnest. “I meant what I said last night—I love you, Jillian. I think we could have a fine life together.”
Jillian opened her mouth to respond, but the emotion clogging her throat stalled her effort. Instead she leaned over and lightly kissed him on the cheek, an inappropriate display but she no longer cared. In fact, if the idea was to convince people that she had made a choice then this should do the trick.
“Might I take that as a yes?” he asked in a husky voice.
She nodded.
“Soon?” he persisted.
“Why so soon?”
His eyes deepened with memory. “Because,” he whispered, “the next time there is a howling thunderstorm I want you in my bed as my wife. Can’t tell you how frustrated I feel every time it rains.”
His scrutiny was so compelling, Jillian could not drop her gaze from his as she felt the blood rush to her face with recollection. A heavy thudding in her breast corresponded with a dark, swirling excitement that began in her belly then drifted lower. The heat between them continued to quicken until she was fully aware the only thing keeping them from falling on one another was this public place.
Adrian shook his head slightly as though having to bring himself to his senses. “Would you like to take the ribbons?” he asked, although his eyes still burned with something else.
“What?”
“Would you like to drive my phaeton?”
“You would let me?” she asked eagerly.
In the Garden of Disgrace Page 22