In the Garden of Disgrace (8 page)

Adrian liked the lady, found her
stimulating, but she had a forceful nature that challenged his
ability to finesse. He wondered if she came by her temperament by
birth or if she had acquired her strident ways due to her lot in
life. Perhaps both conditions could be blamed. One thing for
certain, he thought, he would be making a mistake to allow her the
upper hand. If she sensed weakness, the esteemed Lady Jillian
Fitzgerald would chop his liver into tiny pieces and serve it to
him for dinner.

He laughed aloud at the mental image of a
savage Lady Jillian doing away with his remains, but he was
uncomfortably aware that her anger at him was very real.

The trip back to Sutherfield took an hour to
complete at a restrained canter. Though Adrian found the ride
enjoyable, he wondered how much he would enjoy it in the middle of
the night when he had to return for his fishing trip with
Jillian.

Simon met Adrian as the earl rode into the
stable yard.

“Ho, Adrian, how did it go?” the marquess
called to him.

The earl dismounted and tossed his reins to
a groom who scurried from the stable. “I would like to say all went
well, Simon, but that would not be true. On the other hand it could
have been worse.”

“Oh?”

“You sister and I have an appointment
tomorrow.”

“Do you now?”

“Yes, we do. I have the honor of
accompanying Lady Jillian on a fishing expedition. I have to be
there before dawn, though, as she swears she will leave me if I am
late.”

Simon laughed as he shook his head. “You
must think my sister a complete eccentric.”

Adrian smiled as well. “She is different but
then so am I. Your sister and I have a shared history of sorts, for
we both have spent the last eight years living as outcasts due to a
mutual transgression. She did not kill anyone, of course. Still,
exile from one’s peers takes a toll, more on her than me because
she is female. She’s had to give up what most women in her position
expect without question. At her age—how old is she now,
twenty-five?—she is bitter, and rebelling against society is her
only way of fighting back. I admire her pluck.”

Simon studied the earl for a moment before
breaking into a delighted grin. He clapped Adrian on the shoulder,
and the two men began the walk from the stable yard to the
house.

“Don’t get the maudlin idea I’m being
altruistic, Simon. Your sister is a beauty. If I have to take a
wife she’s more to my liking than most. I’d marry her anyway
because I have a responsibility, but…” Adrian trailed off, suddenly
uncomfortable with the drift in the conversation.

“Understood,” the marquess said, nodding.
“Cassandra and I have spent the last two nights discussing whether
or not this was the right thing to do. Now more than ever I’m
convinced Jilly will profit from our interference. You understand
her—I could not ask for more. I always knew you were a right one,
Adrian.”

The earl snorted. “Of course, you did.”

“Yes, well…” Simon cleared his throat, “have
you thought of who will chaperon you two on this fishing trip? I’d
do it but I don’t want to leave Cassandra. Unfortunately, I’m
afraid Prudence would find it a real chore.”

Adrian stopped as they reached the front
step, and he turned to face his friend. “I want you to leave the
courting to me, Simon, and trust that I will not do anything to
hurt Jillian. Your aunt will provide the necessary shield when
necessary. Under normal circumstances what I’m asking would be
considered unorthodox, even unthinkable, but the circumstances are
not normal. She is, for one thing, no longer a child. Besides, what
can the gossipmongers say after all these years that they didn’t
say in the past? The harm has been done.”

“‘Spose you’re right. Simon paused. “All
right, Adrian, have it your way but do know I’ll be watching. I
don’t want any overt impropriety that provides people with
something to talk about. Jillian keeps the tongues in the
countryside wagging as it is with her outlandish behavior.
Sometimes I wish I lived farther away so I would not be forever
subjected to the tales that spin from her direction.”

“When four o’clock in the morning arrives,
I’m sure it will seem quite a distance to me,” Adrian said wryly.
“I like to fish but I’m better at it when I’m awake.”

Simon chuckled, a chuckle that sounded
suspiciously gleeful. “Best make that three o’clock, my friend.
When Jilly says early that is exactly what she means.”

*****

The clock on the mantle chiming four in the
morning brought Jillian awake. She moaned aloud and, grabbing the
covers, pulled them over her head. What had made her tell Lord
Wickham she would be leaving early? Actually, what she had wanted
was to leave in advance of his arrival however early that might be.
She had decided the only way to ensure missing him was to rise at
an ungodly hour and depart as soon as possible.

She crawled from the bed and stumbled across
her chamber to the washbasin and dashed cold water in her face.
That helped but did not alleviate her grogginess. Jillian dressed
quickly in the same outfit she had worn the day before, including
the straw hat, for the clothing was at hand where she had tossed it
on the floor last evening.

Comfortably rumpled she quit her room not
five minutes later and descended the stairs. She exited the house
by way of the kitchen, stopping to fetch a thick slice of dark
bread from the pantry before leaving. She was awake now and the
bread tasted lovely, something unexpected since her stomach was not
used to being bothered at this time of day.

She took the path leading to the stable,
munching hungrily while she walked. The structure loomed out of the
darkness as she finished eating and she moved through the door,
feeling as though she had entered a dark pit. She could hear the
horses in their stalls rather than see them.

“Raven?”

The horse whinnied in answer and Jillian
stepped over a hay-strewn floor in his direction, careful where she
placed her feet. Feeling in the dark, she found a lantern hanging
from a hook on a nearby post. She knew a phosphorus box rested on a
ledge not far from the lantern, and sure enough a blind search
revealed its location. Fumbling with the box, she extracted a match
and, coating it with phosphorus, struck the tiny piece of wood into
life. She then lit the lamp.

“That’s better,” she said aloud as the
interior of the barn was cast into shadow and light.

She could now see Raven. A bridle and bit
had been tossed carelessly over the partition between Raven’s stall
and the horse next to him, something Jillian demanded because she
went out at all hours of the day and night and wanted the riding
gear at hand. Searching the tack room for equipment when she was in
a hurry wasted precious time.

With experienced hands she placed the bridle
over Raven’s head and led the animal from the barn.

“You forgot your saddle.”

The unexpected words came from behind her
and Jillian screamed. She recognized the voice even before she
opened her mouth. However, instant reflexes had already sent the
sound flying forth, making her feel ridiculous. She swung around to
face the intruder.

Lord Wickham emerged from the darkness, his
eyes gleaming mischievously as he met her angry glare.

“Why are you hiding in the stable?” she
asked peevishly as her heart continued to race.

“I would hardly call it hiding, my lady. You
were later than I expected so I decided to take a nap in a haystack
in one of the stalls.”

“I was later than you expected? You don’t
consider this early?”

“Not early, very early, much too early,” he
said, his expression innocent.

“What time did you leave Sutherfield?”

“Now that was much too early.”

Oh dear, she wanted to laugh. But she
mustn’t, just mustn’t or he would think she had thawed in her
attitude toward him. And she had no intention of doing that now or
ever.

Jillian grimaced at him instead. “Have it
your own way. I see you are determined to come with me whether I
desire your company or not. You might as well be helpful then. The
fishing poles are leaning against the wall in the tack room.”

“At your service, my lady,” the earl said,
bowing before he turned toward the stable.

She blew through her lips, creating an
unladylike sound. His sincerity was as believable as a paste jewel,
she thought in disgust as she made ready to mount her horse.
Jillian grabbed hold of Raven’s bridle and, placing her right hand
on his hindquarter as leverage, leapt belly first onto the back of
the horse. As soon as she knew she was securely in place, she threw
her leg over the animal and came into a sitting position.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lord Wickham
had appeared from the stable holding the fishing poles in one hand
and leading his horse with the other. He stared at her in
consternation.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Where’s your saddle?”

“I rarely use a saddle and never a
sidesaddle.”

“Good God, woman, no wonder people question
your behavior. A lady does not ride a horse like that.”

“Who said I’m a lady?” Jillian sneered. “For
your information I find it odd that females are encouraged to ride
in so dangerous a fashion. A sidesaddle makes me feel as though I’m
about to topple to the ground. I can’t control Raven as easily that
way.”

“That’s nonsense. Unless you are racing at
unsafe speeds, you should be perfectly safe riding in the
traditional manner.”

“This is how I am going, my lord,” she said
haughtily. “Are you coming or not?”

A steely look entered the earl’s eyes, a
look that made Jillian all at once ill at ease.

“As you will, my lady,” he said in a cool
voice.

He mounted his horse.

The journey to Squire Lindley’s property
took less than thirty minutes. The trip was a silent one with
neither rider apparently willing to break the awkward quiet. At
least, Jillian knew she was not. The earl rode slightly behind her
and to her right, and though she could not see him except from the
periphery of her vision, his unspoken disapproval roared at
her.

Too bad, she thought defiantly. Who did he
think he was anyway, coming into her life and telling her what to
do? She must tolerate his company because she had promised Simon,
but it seemed a waste of time to move forward with the courtship
when she had no intention of following through with the
wedding.

Jillian led them about a quarter mile into a
wooded area where a large stream sliced through the trees. Though
still dark the dying moon cast a silvery reflection onto the
stream, illuminating the surrounding landscape. The water flowed
along a high, grassy embankment, and small rocks worn smooth by
countless years of erosion filled the shallows at the shore’s
edge.

Lord Wickham immediately dismounted. “I can
see why you like it here,” he said, coming to stand next to her
horse. “Is the fishing good?”

“I rarely worry about the fish,” she
answered stiffly. “I come for other reasons.”

He reached up to help her from her horse,
and Jillian glanced into his raised face. The moonlight emphasized
his sculpted features, features so ruggedly handsome she felt her
throat constrict. She wanted to ignore his courteous gesture, not
because she disliked his offer but because she feared him touching
her. She refused to ponder why that should be.

“I’m quite capable of getting off my horse
when I am ready,” she said, aware she was being ungracious.

“I’m certain you are.” The earl did not move
away from her when she rebuffed him but rather continued to wait,
his gaze steady and unwavering.

“You are a stubborn man, my lord.”

“So I’ve been told.”

To continue to refuse him would make her
appear petty, thus Jillian placed her hands on his shoulders and
allowed him to swing her to the ground. He released her
immediately.

The earl apparently had thought nothing of
the contact. But she could still feel where he had held her waist
in a strong grip, and she detested the nervous quivering that had
risen in her stomach. She was attracted to the man and was
infuriated with herself for being unable to control the feeling.
The one thing Jillian had determined long ago was never again to be
out of control. She would stifle that feeling or be dead
trying.

“Something has occurred to me,” Lord Wickham
said.

“Yes?” Her answer was curt as she continued
to calm her heightened emotions.

“We forgot the bait.” She turned to look at
him and he put up his hands. “And don’t tell me I must wiggle my
toes in the water to attract the fish. I warn you I did not take
your threat of using me for bait seriously.”

“We’ll dig for earthworms, my lord. Are you
certain you’ve been fishing before?”

“I hear the disparagement in your voice,
Lady Jillian, and I really must protest. Did you bring a
shovel?”

“For heaven’s sake, the ground is soft, and
since it’s still dark the worms have not retreated yet. It should
take little effort to capture enough to keep us fishing for hours.
We’ll use sticks. That is what I always do.”

“You did say you like to dig in the
dirt.”

Jillian sensed his amusement but ignored the
remark, hoping that if she did not react to his teasing he would
grow tired of the game. Instead, she began to search at her feet
for the stick she had mentioned.

“Aha! This is perfect,” she said, holding up
a sturdy specimen.

She left the earl to find his own tool and
moved to the embankment where the earth was rich with humus and she
knew the worms were plentiful. She worked silently, capturing
several before realizing she had nothing to put them in. It took
her only a moment to come up with a solution. She whipped off the
straw hat she wore and dumped her booty into it.