In the Garden of Disgrace (28 page)

“I’m not speaking 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.

*****

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.

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?”