In the Garden of Disgrace (27 page)

Convinced the evening could not possibly
deteriorate any further, fate stepped in to prove how wrong she
could be. As she entered the ballroom Jillian came face to face
with the Marchioness of Edgeworth.

Jillian was immediately angry with herself,
for her cheeks warmed guiltily. It wasn’t she but those two foolish
men outside who had started all the trouble. Self-righteous,
Jillian at that instant overflowed with resentment.

“Meredith,” she said, since she could think
of no way of walking past the woman without being unpardonably
rude.

Meredith had pressed her lips into an
uncompromising line. “You dare speak to me?” she hissed, her green
eyes sparking with jealousy.

Jillian, now feeling thoroughly maligned,
spat back, “I shouldn’t, you know, being as you are a traitor.”

Meredith went white as wax. “You can think
what you will,” she said after a moment, her chin trembling, “but
it doesn’t change the fact that Lionel is my husband, has been for
a long time. I want you to stay away from him.”

Rather than answer Jillian turned away from
her one-time friend and continued her progress across the ballroom,
ignoring the stares of the curious. She met Phillip in the
vestibule.

“Where have you been, Phillip?” Her voice
was shriller than she meant it to be. At his look of apprehension,
she said, “I’m sorry. This has been the most trying evening
imaginable. But why didn’t you return with the drink as you
promised?”

Phillip took her arm and leaned over to
whisper in her ear. “Wickham saw Edgeworth approach you in the
garden. Said he wanted to handle the situation. Asked me to stay
inside.”

“Damnation!”

“Jilly! I’ve never heard you swear
before.”

Jillian narrowed her eyes at him. “If you
continue to do everything Lord Wickham tells you to, I can promise
you will hear it more often.”

He looked offended. “That’s not fair.”

“Really? I could lecture you on fair right
now, however, I don’t have the patience. Is Aunt Pru still in the
card room?” When he nodded, she said, “She’s most likely not ready
to go home yet but I am. Will you take me?”

“Well…ah, yes, just as soon as I’ve spoken
to the earl.”

“What, Phillip, does Lord Wickham have to do
with you taking me home?” Jillian queried ominously.

“He said
he
wanted to take you home.
Now Jilly,” he began in a rush, for she felt ready to spit and she
knew for certain she looked it, “he just wants to take care of
you.”

“Are you telling me that rather than do as I
request, you will defer to the earl?”

“Are you asking me to make a choice?”

“Yes. Yes, I think I am.”

Phillip regarded her sadly. “Then I choose
you, of course. I’d rather you did not put me in such an
uncomfortable position, though. I know you don’t understand, but I
respect Lord Wickham and I like him.”

He looked so miserable, Jillian took pity on
him. Phillip, she realized, felt he had made a friend in Adrian
and, though she did not completely comprehend the bonding between
males, she knew it existed. If she forced Phillip to go against the
earl’s wishes her cousin would be humiliated for having broken one
of the unwritten rules of masculine cooperation. She nodded,
satisfied with knowing that when push came to shove she was the one
who had her cousin’s loyalty.

“All right, Phillip, we’ll wait.”

*****

Adrian watched Jillian enter the ballroom
before he turned his attention back to the inebriated man at his
side. He made no effort to hide the disgust he felt.

“I want you to stay away from her,
Edgeworth,” he said without preamble.

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll wipe that goddamn sneer from your
ugly phiz. Don’t push me on this. You had your chance at Jillian
and passed years ago. Let her be.”

The marquess was apparently too intoxicated
to be wise, for he reached out, waving his hand, barely grazing the
earl’s chest with the tips of insolent fingers.

“Seems to me, Wickham, that I have only your
word that you are engaged to Jillian. In fact, she looked appalled
by your announcement.”

Adrian found himself dealing with a rage
that was truly frightening, only the lack of privacy keeping him
from lunging at the man’s throat. He curled his hands into tense
fists as he fought to control himself.

“Be that as it may, Edgeworth, she and I
will marry.”

“We’ll have to see about that.”

“All right, you bloody fool, but don’t say
you haven’t been warned.”

“What are you going to do, Wickham,
challenge me to a duel?”

Spoken in a sly and goading manner, the
words were a challenge and the earl gave in to his fury. He drew
back a knotted fist and punched the marquess squarely in the nose.
Edgeworth, surprised by the attack, crumpled to the ground like a
sack of wet grain.

As Adrian swung on his heel and headed
indoors, he had no hope the incident had gone unnoticed. Nor did he
believe Jillian would escape inclusion in the tattle that would
surely follow. He should have refrained from becoming physical, he
knew, because he had brought his conflict with Edgeworth into the
open. But when his fist had come in contact with Edgeworth’s face,
the only emotion that had consumed him was a savage enjoyment.

As he had feared a murmur of voices greeted
him as he entered the ballroom, the gossip apparently preceding him
by mere seconds. Adrian ignored the faces turned in his direction,
instead searching for the one person for whom he cared. He found
her in the vestibule, and she watched his approach with a strained
expression full of accusation. Phillip stood next to her looking
ill at ease.

When he reached her side he linked arms with
Jillian, and he felt the resistance in her although she did not
overtly pull away from him.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a tense
voice.

“We’re going outside to wait for my
carriage.”

“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.”