In the Garden of Disgrace (11 page)

And so the earl found himself sitting at a
large wooden table, peeling potatoes and trading light conversation
with a beautiful woman in Prudence Milford’s kitchen. If anyone had
suggested he would enjoy the experience, he would have scoffed at
the very idea.

But he did. He watched as Jillian lightly
floured the fish, pan-frying the fillets. The smell was heavenly.
She smiled at him more than once, her distrust seemingly forgotten
as she became engrossed in her work. The look on her lovely face
was unguarded and he found himself responding in a way that was
unexpected. He had no idea what love felt like but he surmised what
he felt at the moment might be a prerequisite for that emotion—that
is, if the recipe for love contained a generous dollop of lust.

A smudge of flour graced the end of the
lady’s nose, and Adrian wished he could wipe it away as he had
wiped the mud from her cheek earlier in the day. As she shifted
back and forth in the kitchen, her hair swung loosely down her
back, tied in a single ribbon at her neck. He was mesmerized by her
feminine movements. He kept remembering the feel of her body when
he had lifted her from her horse by the stream. He was pleased at
the time to discover he had been right—she did not wear a corset.
He was positive she was not wearing one now.

Adrian took a deep cut in the potato he was
paring and yelled his surprise. “Damn!” he bellowed, raising his
middle finger to his mouth. “How did I do that?”

“I think you need to look at the potato to
peel it, my lord,” the cook said, a knowing expression on her round
face.

Cheeky woman,
Adrian thought. The
situation did have a positive side, though, for Jillian had washed
her hands and raced to his side.

“Are you all right, my lord? Let me have a
look.” She quickly assessed the damage. “It’s not serious but we’ll
need to clean and bandage the cut.” She moved to the basin for a
pan of water. “Get me a clean cloth,” she said to the cook.

After his explicit thoughts he found
Jillian’s nearness an enticement hard to resist. She leaned over
him as she worked on his finger, her breast brushing lightly
against his arm. The contact caused a corresponding response in his
groin, which could become humiliating in light of the snug trousers
he wore.

“There,” Jillian said, tying off the
bandage.

As she straightened she turned to look at
him. He must have looked as hungry as he felt, for when their eyes
met the pleasant expression slid from her face only to be replaced
by one of apprehension.

Aunt Prudence chose that moment to bustle
into the kitchen, carrying a large brandy snifter more than half
full.

“What has happened?” she asked, a tremble
lacing her words. “Are you hurt, my lord? Jillian, what have you
done?”

Jillian bristled. “Aunt Pru, it is hardly my
fault that Lord Wickham is clumsy. It never occurred to me that he
could not peel a few potatoes without cutting himself.”

The older woman looked as though she might
swoon. “Potatoes? You’ve had the Earl of Wickham
peeling
potatoes?”

Prudence raised the brandy glass to her
mouth and, taking a slug that would have done an inebriate proud,
swallowed. Blinking rapidly, her eyes watered. She then turned
without another word and left the kitchen.

“That makes me feel bad,” Jillian said.
“I’ve really upset her this time. I didn’t mean to, honestly.”

Adrian came to his feet. “Let me talk to
her. It is worry over my dignity that has upset her.” He returned
Jillian’s smile of gratitude. “Course, I’m not wearing my boots so
I won’t have the veracity I normally have.”

He intercepted a look from the cook that
told him the servant approved in a guarded way. Well, any progress
was cause for celebration, he thought.

He stepped into the hall and padded to the
parlor. Sure enough, Miss Milford had sought refuge there, still
clutching the brandy glass in her hand. She turned at his
entrance.

“My lord, I apologize. I meant this for
you,” she said, indicating the drink. “I’ll pour you another.”

“You are distressed.”

“No, no, it’s just that…” her voice trailed
away as she handed him a new glass.

“Thank you. Why don’t you continue to sip on
that brandy you started while we talk?”

Aunt Pru’s eyes lit with eagerness. “You
don’t mind? You won’t think me a…a…”

“No, no, of course not. Conversation always
goes better with strong drink.”

Adrian was not certain what she feared he
might think, but he got the distinct impression Jillian’s aunt was
not adverse to taking an occasional tipple. Retrieving the snifter
she settled her plump body on the settee and indicated the chair
next to her.

“Now then.” She turned on him inquisitive
blue eyes and waited for him to begin.

Just as though I had been the one who was
upset, he thought, amused. Aloud, he said, “I don’t want you to be
disturbed by the way your niece treats me. You will find this hard
to believe, but I had a good time in your kitchen. Until I sliced
my finger that is. And Lady Jillian was correct. That was my
fault.”

“But, my lord, you are a gentleman.”

“Miss Milford,” he spoke earnestly, “do I
strike you as the conventional sort?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“I’ve lived abroad and often in primitive
conditions, I might add. I’ve traveled a long way from the world of
the
ton
. We speak as if the only important thing for Jillian
and me is to be accepted by our peers once again. Frankly, though,
my attitude is not that far afield from your niece’s. I’m not
certain I’m interested any longer. I was when I thought my mother
still lived. For her sake I wanted to make the effort, but now…” He
shrugged.

“If you and Jillian marry and you don’t make
an effort, what about your children?”

Adrian nodded. “And that, of course, is why
we must try. We have more than ourselves to consider.”

“I don’t know why she is so stubborn about
all this,” Prudence said, sipping her drink. “She feels her
estrangement from society even though she won’t admit it. Yet she
goes out of her way to alienate everyone, even Simon who is
tolerant. I fear you will take a disgust of her without realizing
who she truly is.”

“Rest easy, dear lady, I know what she is
attempting to do. She hopes her conduct will push me away. But she
cannot hide beneath a false exterior.”

“You are not repulsed by her?”

He heard the doubt in her voice and Adrian
wanted to groan aloud, for repulsion was the last thing Lady
Jillian had aroused in him. Since he couldn’t put it that way, he
chose his words carefully.

“Jillian is a beautiful woman, something I
suspect she has forgotten. Your niece is spirited and honest. At
least, she is honest with others. She’s not quite honest with
herself yet but I’m willing to give her time. And meanwhile, she
and I will get to know one another.”

“She’s very determined. Are you certain you
can bring her around?” Prudence asked, her cheeks now pink as she
had nearly finished her brandy.

“There is an element of trust that needs to
be worked on, I admit. But I’m hopeful.”

Aunt Prudence leaned forward, quite a feat
since she was so round. “Lord Wickham, why are you doing this?—I
mean, aside from your promise to my nephew?”

For the first time Adrian detected a shrewd
component to the old lady’s personality. Though it had not occurred
to him before, he suspected this little woman as innocuous as she
seemed could make the difference on whether he was successful or
not. Without her support he was doomed. He also suspected if he
were not completely sincere with her she would know.

“Miss Milford—”

“Call me Prudence or Aunt Prudence,
whichever makes you happy,” she rapped out. “Either makes me
happy.”

Whew, Jillian’s aunt acts like a different
person when she’s bosky, he thought, dazed by her sudden shift in
mood. He wanted to laugh but decided that would be a mistake.

“And you must call me Adrian, Aunt
Prudence.” When she nodded curtly, he began, “I wasn’t happy when I
first talked to Simon, but marriages are arranged all the time for
all kinds of reasons. And I do feel responsible for her
misfortune.”

“She’ll never settle for that.”

“Nor should she,” Adrian said. “I—”

“Out with it, young man!” she snapped. “Can
you care about her as she deserves?”

Adrian’s mouth dropped open. He now realized
he had walked into this room with a patronizing attitude, expecting
to calm an old lady’s fears. Instead, that same old lady had made
him feel like a school lad with bad intentions. If she knew the
lecherous thoughts that had raced through his mind these last few
days, she would run him off with a stick. He supposed, however, he
had no choice but to let her understand part of how he felt.

“I think Jillian and I are much alike and we
suit. I consider that to be a critical ingredient in a successful
marriage. Right now my feelings are ah…shall we say influenced by
her outward appeal. Nevertheless, given time I believe I could care
deeply for her.”

“Just what I wanted to hear.” Prudence
smiled slyly. “Can’t imagine why Jillian would want to resist a
fine figure of a man such as yourself.”

“Why, Aunt Prudence,” Adrian said, laughing
his surprise, “I believe your niece takes after you when all is
said and done. What do you have to say to that?”

“Perhaps, perhaps,” she said, primly
rearranging her skirts. “Now, dear boy, would you be kind enough to
pour me a dab more of that delightful brandy?”

*****

Jillian had the maid set the table for
dinner in the morning room. Though the dining room was not large,
it did require more than three people to be a comfortable place to
eat. An intimate meal demanded a cozy setting.

The scene that had occurred with Auntie Pru
in the kitchen disturbed her. She regretted upsetting her aunt, but
she also disliked being questioned every time she moved. Perhaps
her good sense had deserted her lately, she thought, for she seemed
forever to be incurring someone’s displeasure.

Though she hated to acknowledge it, the earl
had found a way to worm himself into her good graces. He had
followed her aunt into the parlor, and Prudence and he had
entertained one another while Jillian finished overseeing the
preparation of the meal. Occasionally she could hear masculine
laughter combined with her aunt’s high-pitched trill drift down the
hallway. Actually, Aunt Pru sounded a little too happy.

She sent the footman to announce the dinner,
and moments later Pru entered the morning room on the earl’s arm.
Jillian knew immediately that her aunt had been sampling the
brandy. She cast a look of displeasure at the earl, but he merely
sent one back at her that said it wasn’t his fault.

“Are you all right, Auntie?” she asked.

“Yes, of course, never better, my dear.”

Prudence’s plump cheeks were flushed, and
her eyes had taken on an unnatural sparkle, but she seemed relaxed,
and that was better than her nervous twitters of a short while
before, her niece decided.

Lord Wickham pulled out the older woman’s
chair first and then he seated Jillian.

“What have we here?” the earl asked, sitting
down.

“Peasant fare, I’m afraid, my lord,” Jillian
answered, indicating the dishes. “We fried the potatoes to go with
the fish. The carrots and green peas are fresh from our garden. The
rice pudding is Cook’s specialty. Since it is just the three of us
we’ll serve ourselves.”

“Had no idea peasants ate so well.” Lord
Wickham smiled at his table partners. “Thank you for inviting me,
ladies. I had to flee England to appreciate what I left
behind.”

Jillian was touched. He seemed genuine, and
she smiled back at him. He held her regard, and the warmth
emanating from his light blue eyes caused her stomach to lurch
uncontrollably. Suddenly she didn’t know if she could eat, not
because the meal had lost its appeal, but because she did not think
a stomach tied in knots could hold food.

She dropped her gaze. “Shall we?” she
murmured as she picked up the dish of peas.

The invitation was unnecessary as Aunt
Prudence had already filled her plate.

Once the meal was completed her aunt pleaded
exhaustion. Jillian wasn’t surprised, for Prudence grew tired
within a short time after imbibing brandy. She worried sometimes
that Pru overdid the drinking, but it was one of the old woman’s
few pleasures in life.

“You behave yourself, young man,” Aunt
Prudence said in an authoritative voice as she rose from the table,
carefully balancing her rotund body. “I won’t have my favorite
niece compromised.”

Jillian was startled to see her aunt wink at
their guest.

The earl stood from the table as well and
took Prudence’s hand. “It has been a lovely evening, ma’am. I will
be taking my leave as soon as Lady Jillian and I share a cup of
tea. I promise to conduct myself as though you were still
here.”

The earl dropped a kiss on the elderly
woman’s hand, and to her niece’s amazement, Auntie Pru giggled.

Jillian did not respond to Pru’s slurred
goodnight as her aunt left the room. Instead, she waited in
irritated silence as the earl sat down again and the footman poured
the tea.

“It would seem you have made another convert
of one of my relatives, my lord,” she said, disgruntled. “Are you
sprinkling the food with fairy dust when I’m not looking?”

“I thought we had agreed to be less formal
with each other.” Lord Wickham had eased back in his seat with his
elbow resting on the arm of the captain’s chair. He looked very
much at home. “And in answer to your question, if I were enchanting
the food then you would be a convert as well. I don’t detect that
as yet but I’m still hopeful.”