Ruined by a Lady (Spirited Storms #3) (The Spirited Storms)

by Jane Charles

This party was made up of the younger set, at least those who were thirty years or younger, with the exception of the Thorndykes. The rest of the guests were Thorn’s friends and made for a jovial and lighthearted mood, all for the purpose of introducing his wife, Anna.

  Thorn stood and called the gentlemen together. “A toast, in the library.”

  They followed him inside, leaving the ladies quite alone. Odd that, but Samuel couldn’t imagine they’d be gone long, and followed the rest. Cheroots were passed about and brandy poured. Thorn lifted his glass. “To my wife.”

  The men toasted to Mrs. Thorn.

  Then Thorn grinned. “Congratulate me, gentlemen, I am to be a father.”

  Sam nearly choked on his brandy. It was difficult enough to get used to the idea of Thorn being married. But a father?

  He pointed to Blake Chetwey. “I should warn you that my wife has every intention on descending upon your estate when the time comes because she wants to be near your wife.”

  Quentin Post and Patrick Delaney laughed.

  “Let’s hope her delivery is far less eventful than my wife’s.” Chetwey raised a glass as did the others. Sam glanced at Post, Delaney, and Chetwey who were shaking their heads. What had he missed? At least Chetwey’s wife was healthy as was their child, but he still had the nagging suspicion something had happened that he, nor many in the room, were aware of.

  “Now, one final order of business,” he announced. “There is to be a scavenger hunt, and I would be remiss if you were not partnered with the lady of your choice.” He grinned. “Some habits are not easily broken.”

  Those in the room laughed.

  “Before you think you might be able to take the lady off on your own, the groups will be of six, thus you will all be chaperoning each other.”

  A few gentlemen groaned but it was all in good humor.

  “The list of ladies is here. Simply add your name beside the lady you wish to be partnered with.”

  Others reached the list before Sam and he hoped nobody chose Jillian before he had a chance. By the time it was his turn only a few ladies remained free. One of them being Jillian, and he wrote his name beside hers. Directly below it was his sister’s, and he couldn’t help but grin when he saw that Stalter had written his name beside hers. His sister was definitely wrong about the earl not noticing her because Stalter had been the first in line and could have had anyone he wished.

  Soon the men were in smaller groups as they finished their brandy and cheroots before rejoining the ladies, and Sam found himself standing with Post, Chetwey, Delaney, and Stalter.

  “Did you ever rid Marisdùn of that odor, Quent?” Stalter asked.

  “Marisdùn?” Sam asked.

  “Castle that Quent inherited,” Chetwey answered. “He and Bradenham have had a Samhain masquerade there for the last two years. Always an enjoyable and interesting party.”

  “Interesting is one word to describe it,” Delaney said before taking a drink of brandy.

  “As to your question,” Post said. “I do believe we’ve aired the place out completely.” He turned to Sam. “You know, you really should stay in England, Storm. You’ve missed quite a lot while you were off in Barbados.”

  “I have no intention of living here year round, but will consider visiting in the spring and summer months.” Of course, all that depended on if he married, who he married, and if he needed to interfere on his sisters’ behalf during the Season. He’d need to have a long chat with his brothers because Ben certainly hadn’t been doing his duty to them.

  J illian watched as Lady Hannah Storm crossed to the teacart and then made her way to the blanket Jillian was sitting upon. She and Lady Hannah were barely acquaintances. In fact, everyone here was an acquaintance, and that’s the way it had always been. She’d also tried not to ever let it bother her. She kept her chin high and back stiff, keeping others at a distance. Her father taught her that there were no real friends in the world, only people who wanted something from you. A lesson she had learned at the age of six and ten. She’d done well since and convinced herself that it didn’t matter and that the friendships she witnessed were nothing to be jealous of because one was the means to the end for the other.

  Except she no longer wanted to be this way, nor did she believe Father’s view of Society was correct. And she hadn’t realized how very alone she’d been until Samuel Storm had blown into her life.

  Jillian also understood why none of those gathered in the gardens would wish to be her friend. Bianca Valentine, the recent bride of the Duke of Roxburg, stood in conversation with Lady Felding. The two were sisters, and she’d almost ruined their lives. They had good reason to hate her. As for the rest of the ladies, she’d never encouraged a friendship and held herself aloof, being better than they were. Not that she truly believed that was true, but as her father would not approve, it was easier to remain reserved than endure his lectures. Within the first year of her entry into Society, those who might have been friends no longer bothered with her. In fact, she wasn’t even the one who’d been invited to this gathering. It had been her brother, and he only brought her so there would be even numbers.

  It served her right that everyone kept their distance. She was a horrible person. She didn’t deserve their friendship, and she certainly didn’t deserve Samuel. She hated herself and what she’d become. Her father might have made her this way, but she had allowed it. She didn’t deserve to be happy because of the pain she’d caused others.

  “Hello,” Lady Hannah greeted. “May I join you?”

  Jillian blinked at her. “Yes.”

  Lady Hannah settled down beside Jillian, taking her by surprise.

  Oh, she had never been very good at conversation. Rarely did she have to participate. She did well enough at a supper table, where topics were general and benign, but when the ladies retired to await the gentlemen, she usually sat by herself sipping tea.

  “I have a confession,” Lady Hannah blurted out.

  “Yes.”

  “I am horrible at social gatherings.”

  Jillian laughed. “As am I.”

  Lady Hannah frowned. “I find that very difficult to believe.”

  Which was further proof that she was very good at exhibiting what she wished people to see. “Truthfully, I can become anxious when I am in conversation with those I don’t know.”

  Lady Hannah pulled back. “If you would like me leave…”

  “No!” Jillian hastened to say. This was the first time in a long time that someone wished to speak with her, and she didn’t want to send them scurrying away.

  “If you’re certain,” Lady Hannah hesitated.

  “I am positive.”

  “Very well.” She grinned. “I normally don’t speak to someone I don’t know very well, but I wanted to become better acquainted with you.”

  Jillian frowned. “Why?” Had she heard the rumors of how horrible she was?

  “My brother, Samuel, couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

  Jillian’s face heated. “I’ve made his acquaintance.”

  “I do believe he is quite smitten,” Lady Hannah confessed.

  Jillian was more than smitten. Not that it did any good. At the end of the Season, she’d probably be wed to Lord Lowery who was more interested in horseflesh than he’d ever be in his own wife.

  Before Jillian could say anything, not that she knew what to say, the gentlemen returned to the garden. Her cousin, Stalter, and brother found her and came forward.

  “Lady Hannah Storm, may I introduce my brother, the Marquess of Broadridge and my cousin, the Earl of Stalter.”

  Lady Hannah stood. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” Her face blossomed with pink cheeks and Jillian couldn’t imagine why Lady Hannah would be embarrassed.

  Her cousin, sister to Stalter, Eve Grell, joined them, looking at Jillian oddly. The two had never been close. Not like Jillian would have liked, but it was her fault and not anyone else’s.

  “Hannah, there you are,”
Samuel said, coming to his sister’s side. He greeted Jillian and then her cousin and turned as Thorn stepped out of the house.

  “Today there is to be a scavenger hunt,” Thorn announced. “You will be assigned a partner and then put into teams of six.”

  Jillian stifled a groan. She hated these events. She was always paired with people who didn’t like her, and for good reason, and frankly, she was very poor at these games. She didn’t do well figuring out the clues and always was left to feel like an idiot.

  Thorn began listing the partners and she held her breath, afraid to look around and see the look of disappointment on the poor gentleman’s face who was stuck with her.

  “Lady Jillian Simpson is to be paired with Mr. Samuel Storm.”

  She blinked and looked up. Had she heard correctly?

  “It looks like we are to be partnered,” Samuel said.

  “It appears so.”

  Samuel as a partner alleviated some of her anxiety, but would he be disappointed in her when he realized she wasn’t very good at this game?

  CHAPTER 12

  In the end, the two of them were paired with Mr. and Mrs. Blake Chetwey as well as Mr. and Mrs. Jordan Trent. This could work out well. Chetwey was his friend and would be of assistance, and Trent once had a reputation to rival Thorn’s, so certainly he’d understand that Sam would wish to be alone with Jillian if only for a short time.

  “Oh, I’ve never been any good at figuring out the clues,” Mrs. Trent said.

  “Me either,” Mrs. Chetwey agreed.

  Jillian visibly relaxed at his side. “I am so glad, because I am horrible at scavenger hunts.”

  “Your first clues,” Thorn announced. “Each team should take one but do not open them until I say.”

  It was Chetwey who went to get theirs and brought it back. They waited until all the groups were together and then Thorn told them they could open the clue.

  I’m full of water

  But don’t take a sip

  I’m here for enjoyment

  Not a dip

  “A fountain?” Jillian said.

  “I thought you said you weren’t very good at this game,” Sam teased.

  She blinked up at him with those beautiful blue eyes. “I’m not.”

  He just hoped she wasn’t intent on playing because he had other plans.

  Thorn had a large fountain at the back of the garden and the other four in their group hurried ahead. Samuel and Jillian walked slower. There had to be a way that they could separate from the group without being obvious.

  By the time Sam and Jillian reached the others, they’d already read the clue.

  “A shelter hidden within the green,” said Trent.

  “A folly? Gazebo?” Mrs. Trent guessed.

  All of them turned to look at the copse of trees surrounding three sides of the estate.

  “Where do we begin?” Chetwey asked

  “We can all go in separate directions and hope we find it,” Sam suggested.

  Trent’s lips quirked when he looked from Sam to Jillian and back again. “We are required to remain together.”

  Blast. He didn’t want to ruin the game by disqualifying them because he wanted to be alone with Jillian.

  “Then which direction?” Mrs. Trent asked.

  “Others are going east.”

  “The path is larger than any others,” mussed Lady Chetwey.

  “Doesn’t that seem a bit too obvious,” Trent suggested. “Unless Thorn wishes to keep this easy.”

  “I don’t think he would,” said Chetwey.

  Sam agreed with his assessment and assumed that each clue would become more difficult. “Then I suggest we go west.” Samuel grinned.

  “West it is,” Trent said and started off in that direction.

  It was soon clear why nobody went in this direction. There was but a very narrow path when a much wider one went in the opposite direction. Wild flowers of purple and pink bloomed among the wild foliage, and animals scurried in the dried leaves. “It’s lovely,” Mrs. Chetwey said.

  Sam was just about to suggest they turn back when the white of a building peeked through the trees. The others hurried ahead. Jillian, who had been by his side, let out a little cry before she fell forward, landing on her palms.

  Thank goodness for her gloves or her hands would be quite scraped, though that didn’t lessen the pain in her wrists. Further, her ankle throbbed.

  Samuel was kneeling on the ground by her side in an instant. “Are you harmed?”

  “Embarrassed,” Jillian laughed as she rolled over and sat up.

  “Here, let me help you.” With this arm about her waist, Sam helped Jillian come to her feet. She shook out her gown and brushed the twigs and leaves from her skirts. Her left ankle ached, but she didn’t want to say anything until she tested it with walking.

  “What happened?” Chetwey called, coming back to them.

  “My foot caught on something.”

  Chetwey crouched and cleared the area revealing a large root that she’d caught her foot on. “We should clean up the area before anyone else is injured.”

  “We’re the only ones who have come this way,” Samuel said.

  “The others will be along if they don’t give up. The next clue is in the gazebo.”

  “Then we are ahead of the game,” Jillian said brightly and took a step toward the gazebo. Pain shot up her leg and she would have fallen again if Sam hadn’t grasped her about the waist. Before she knew what was happening, he swept her into his arms and marched toward the gazebo and settled her down on the bench.

  Mrs. Chetwey rushed forward. “What pains you?”

  “My left ankle,” Jillian answered between clenched teeth.

  Mrs. Chetwey reached for the hem of her skirt. “May I?”

  Jillian nodded.

  “Turn your backs, gentlemen.”

  They did and Mrs. Trent knelt beside Mrs. Chetwey. She folded her skirts above her knee then lifted Jillian’s left foot. With each movement she winced with pain. “You need to stay off of this for a bit.”

  “I can’t,” Jillian protested. “What of the hunt? We all need to stay together.”

  “I think an injury is an exception to the rule,” Sam insisted. “I’ll take Lady Jillian back to the picnic area and explain while the rest of you continue.”

  Mrs. Chetwey frowned. “I’d feel better if she rested first, with her ankle propped somehow, before you carry her back.”

  “That’s it then. We’re done.” Mrs. Trent settled on one of the benches.

  “No. You must continue,” Jillian insisted. She’d feel horrible if they had to forfeit because she managed to injure herself.

  “We can’t leave you alone, or alone with Mr. Storm.”

  “They won’t be alone long,” Mr. Trent insisted. “Others will eventually come this way, and Lady Jillian is injured.”

  “I can call out warnings to watch their step while the four of you continue and win.” Samuel grinned. “But, you must promise to share the prize.”

  “Blake, find me some small logs.” Mrs. Chetwey smoothed Jillian’s skirts back over the lower portion of her legs. “Mr. Trent and Mr. Storm, perhaps you should clear the dead leaves from the rest of the path so others are not injured.”

  She turned back to Jillian. “Once I return home, I’ll have a poultice delivered. You should apply it before you go to sleep and keep your ankle propped up.”

  Jillian nodded. “Thank you.”

  “In a few days, you should be able to move about.”

  She didn’t mind being incapacitated for a few days, but she also wouldn’t be able to visit with Samuel. Her father would never allow him to call on her. This was both a blessing and a curse.

  Mr. Chetwey returned with a few small logs. Mrs. Chetwey selected one and then instructed Jillian to recline on the bench with her back against a post. It wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as she anticipated. Mrs. Chetwey then asked for Samuel’s jacket, which he shrugged out of and
handed to her. She folded it gently, laid it on the log then slid it under Jillian’s ankle. “You should remain like this for half an hour, if you can, and then Mr. Storm can carry you back to the gardens.”

  “Mr. Storm, you should sit over there,” Mrs. Trent pointed to the spot furthest from Jillian. “There is no reason to call Lady Jillian’s reputation into question because she’s been injured.”

  Jillian’s face heated. At one time she would have used this very opportunity to land the husband her father had chosen. She hadn’t wanted any of them. Not really. However, to be ruined by Mr. Storm would not be such a bad thing.

  “I promise to behave in the most gentlemanly fashion,” Samuel said as he settled in the spot Mrs. Trent had pointed to.

  “Now, where are we off to?” Mr. Chetwey asked.

  “I believe the barn,” answered Mr. Trent, and before long, Jillian and Samuel were left quite alone in the gazebo, simply looking at each other.

  “I’m sorry you have to miss out on the fun. I don’t mind if you wish to join them.”

  “I am exactly where I wish to be, with the lady I wish to be with.”

  “You hardly know me,” Jillian said as her cheeks heated.

  “But I want to know everything.”

  Pain stabbed at her heart. Once he knew everything, he’d never spend another moment in her company. “No. You don’t. I am an awful person.”

  Samuel frowned. “I find that impossible to believe.”

  “Trust me. I am.” As much as she wanted a pleasurable Season with a gentleman she enjoyed spending time with and rebelling against her father, it was unfair to Samuel. He was only attracted to her because of a painting and knew nothing about her. Hadn’t he noticed that nobody spoke with her earlier? Didn’t he find it odd that all the other guests were friendly, except with her? Well, other than his sister, but she was simply curious.

  “Why don’t you tell me about yourself, and then let me decide if you are truly so horrible.”

  Tears stung her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away. She didn’t want to tell him anything, but he had a right to know before he wasted any further time with her. “I’ll begin with the portrait. You must be curious.” She would start with the first of her foolishness and once he heard, he’d surely turn away from her, and then she wouldn’t have to tell him about the worst of her behavior.