In the Garden of Disgrace (18 page)

The scene had become so cozy and pleasant,
he decided it took an incident of a truly personal nature to bring
people closer. Of course, he could not help wishing someone else
had been required to forego their dignity to achieve that
closeness.

Dinner was served late as expected and they
ate in the main dining room. The cook wore a haunted expression
and, unless Adrian was mistaken, the woman had been weeping over
the meal she prepared. Perhaps he had misjudged her. He gave the
poor creature a sympathetic smile, and her eyes widened before she
acknowledged his understanding with a timid smile of her own and a
slight nod of the head.

The footman served the final course as a
loud crash of thunder rumbled through the night.

“Dear me,” Prudence announced, speaking
carefully, “it looks as though the weather is turning bad again.”
She had had enough brandy to brighten her cheeks to a glowing
pink.

As if to emphasize her words, a torrent of
rain burst from the heavens. This time the moisture was accompanied
by great gusts of wind, something that had been missing from the
previous storms. A flash of lightning lit the sky, and the
subsequent clap of thunder followed almost immediately. All three
persons at the table jumped.

“I do so hate lightning,” Prudence
moaned.

Adrian took her hand. “There is nothing to
fear, dear lady. It makes a lot of noise, but rarely does any
harm.”

“We’ve had this talk before, Auntie,”
Jillian added. “We have endured many storms and have never had a
speck of trouble.”

“I ‘spose so, but what are you going to do,
Adrian?” her aunt asked. “We can’t send you home in this inclement
weather.”

“I’ll wait until it clears, ma’am.”

“But that might not happen, don’t you agree,
Jillian? Can’t sit up all night waiting.”

Jillian gave Adrian an uncertain look then
glanced back at her aunt. “What are you proposing?” she asked.

“I think his lordship should use the guest
bedchamber,” Pru said.” To the earl, “I trust you to behave
yourself, young man.” She smiled, taking the sting out of her
words.

“Of course,” Adrian murmured, delighted with
this sudden turn of events. He ignored the consternation on
Jillian’s face. “I’m grateful I won’t have to take another mud bath
today.”

“That’s settled then.” Prudence placed her
hands on the table for leverage as she began to struggle from her
chair.

The earl stood and went to the old woman’s
side, helping her to stand as well. She leaned heavily on his arm,
and he realized she was more intoxicated than he had thought at
first. He glanced at Jillian, sending her a silent message, and she
instantly came to his aid.

Though a bit of a tussle, the trio made the
trip from the dining room, up the stairs, to Aunt Prudence’s
chamber with a minimum of difficulty. At her aunt’s door Jillian
turned to him. “I must see my aunt to bed,” she said in a soft
voice. “You know where the guest chamber is. If you need anything,
please ask the footman for assistance.”

Adrian touched her arm. “Are you retiring,
also?”

She looked first at his hand on her arm then
gazed into his face, her expression unreadable. “I think it would
be best,” she said at last. She entered the room and closed the
door.

The earl went downstairs again, his mind
working furiously. This was the opportunity he had been
seeking.

He went to the parlor and strode directly to
the sideboard, grabbing the bottle of brandy, now almost empty, and
two goblets. He returned upstairs, searching out his room, and went
inside.

Apparently, his stay had been noted by the
servants, for someone had brought him towels and put water in the
basin. He set the brandy and the glasses on his night table and
walked to the window to watch the storm. Arm above his head, he
rested an elbow against the casing and rubbed his thumb over his
brow.

Did he dare, did he really dare do what he
had in mind? he wondered as he stared into the turbulent night. He
had been preparing for this moment for weeks, but now that the hour
was upon him he did not know if he should go through with it. The
exercise had the mark of a cad written all over it. But what choice
did he have?—allow Jillian to procrastinate forever, putting their
lives on hold until she decided to decide?

Though he knew Jillian was warming to him,
at the pace she had permitted their courtship to progress, it might
be months, even longer before she agreed to marry him. He found
that unacceptable.

He had been less accessible lately, not
coming as often, not pursuing her with as much dedication, not
because his interest had waned but because he wanted her to think.
He hoped she would be concerned by the sudden withdrawal of his
attention and, as a result, be more agreeable when he began wooing
her again. This time he meant to take their relationship to another
level.

If they become lovers then she would marry
him due to expediency if nothing else. However, he was honest
enough with himself to admit he desired more because a marriage
built upon expediency might generate little affection. When he
thought of a long-term relationship with Jillian, Adrian knew he
wanted more.

Naturally Jillian had a choice. She could
refuse him, could send him packing. And he would go. But something
told Adrian she would find turning him away difficult. There was
passion between them. He sensed it every time they were in the same
room together. He knew she sensed it, also.

He heard a door open down the hall and the
murmur of voices. Racing to his own door, he cracked it slightly to
see which room Jillian entered.

She went into the bedchamber across the hall
from his.
Dear Lord,
he thought beginning to feel aroused,
she was so close it was a recipe for illicit activity. He was
thankful Aunt Pru had overindulged tonight.

The earl crossed to the washbasin, pulled
off his shirt, dashed cold water in his face and ran wet fingers
through his hair. He glanced in the mirror, confirming his
suspicion—he needed a shave. Too bad but he didn’t have a razor
and, without disturbing people he did not want disturbed, he had no
chance of getting one.

He sat on the side of the bed and removed
his boots and socks. Standing again, he wondered how long he should
wait. If he did not react quickly enough, she might go to sleep and
the opportunity would be lost. That decided him.

Adrian reached for the brandy and glasses on
his way from the room. Easing the door open, he glanced both ways
down the hall. Everything was quiet except the rush of rain and
wind buffeting the house and the occasional clap of thunder.

All at once he was nervous. What he was
about to attempt would seal his future as nothing else had. And yet
that was not what worried him. He already knew he wanted Jillian.
What he could not be sure of was whether or not she wanted him.
What if she rejected him? Was he risking more than his pride?

The answer was in the room across from him
and, feeling as though he had come too far to retreat, Adrian
stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him.

*****

Jillian entered her room with the storm
still raging outside, uncomfortable with how the evening had ended.
Aunt Prudence had drunk too much, and now Adrian slept only a few
feet away across the hall. His presence on the other side of a
locked door should not have bothered her.

But it did.

All evening she had tried to forget the
image of a handsome man stripped to his skin, abashed as he stared
at her across her aunt’s kitchen. She had felt sorry for him, for
he truly had been disconcerted by the invasion of his privacy. To
her dismay she had felt something else.

The earl had a magnificent physique. He was
long and lean, sinewy, as if he used his body, not like so many of
the soft, pampered aristocrats she knew. Jillian had to smile to
herself, though, because she had never thought to see a man quite
so sheepish about displaying his “charms.”

She undressed and donned a cotton nightdress
then pulled loose the perennial ribbon that held her hair. She sat
at her dressing table to the light of a single candle and began the
chore of detangling her thick mane.

A soft, urgent knock sounded on her door and
Jillian paused, the brush she wielded held in midair. She opened
her mouth to ask who it was, but some instinct she could not
identify made her decide to use caution. Warily, she rose from her
seat and crossed the room.

She turned the knob and peeked out. Adrian
stood in the hall, shirtless, shoeless, an engaging grin on his
handsome features, clutching what looked like her aunt’s brandy
decanter and two glasses. For a moment she was too stunned to
speak.

“Have you lost your mind, my lord?”

The smile continued unabated. “I’m sure we
could argue that possibility,” he said in an undertone, “but I
think you should invite me in so we don’t disturb the
household.”

“Absolutely not.”

The smile widened. “Tsk, tsk, that’s not the
answer for which I’d hoped. I suppose I’ll have to wait out here in
the hall until you see it my way.”

Jillian wanted to close the door on him and
his ridiculous threat, but the expression on his face indicated his
intention of doing just as he promised. She feared taking the
chance.

“Oh, all right, but only for a moment.” She
stepped out of the way, allowing him to enter. As she clicked the
door into place, she turned on him. “What can you be thinking? My
aunt is only a few doors away—she’ll hear us.”

“Aunt Pru won’t be hearing much tonight
between the brandy and the storm.”

She detected a silky, insinuating quality to
the words and all at once she looked at him, taking in his naked
torso, the bottle and glasses he held. His black hair glistened
with moisture. He appeared frighteningly seductive, his features
all shadows and deep angles enhanced by a day’s growth of beard,
staring at her through light blue eyes too friendly for
comfort.

“Did you get Aunt Pru drunk on purpose?” she
asked, appalled by the possibility.

The smile finally slipped. “I would never
hurt your aunt,” the earl said. “If you don’t know that then you
don’t know me.”

“Adrian, why are you here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said. “I’ve missed you,
love. We are never alone together. I thought a little more brandy
and some pleasant conversation might make me sleepy.”

“But this is improper, scandalously so.
Aren’t you the one who has given me lectures on behaving? You’re
asking me to do the very thing you say I should not.”

“Aren’t you the one who has told society to
go to hell? I thought the impropriety would appeal to you.”

Jillian was surprised by how much those bald
words hurt. “You don’t think much of me, do you, my lord?”

Adrian’s expression softened. “I think very
much of you, Jillian.” He put his arm around her shoulders and led
her to the window seat. “Come, let’s watch the storm, shall we?
Have a few sips of brandy with me—there’s hardly any left so we
can’t get drunk—and we’ll talk.”

Still unsure, she allowed him to guide her
across the room. Once they were seated the earl handed her a
goblet, measuring out the remaining brandy so they each had an
equal amount before he placed the decanter on the floor. He clicked
his glass against hers.

“To us,” he said.

Though Jillian wanted to respond, she could
not. Those simple words implied a commitment and, despite feeling
closer to the earl than ever before, she did not know if she was
ready to make that promise.

The look in his eyes told her he
understood.

“Where is your shirt?” she asked, changing
the subject.

Adrian raised his foot to the cushion on the
window seat, resting his forearm on his knee. “Does my lack of
shirt bother you? After today I thought nothing could shock you.
You’ve seen all there is to see.”

Disturbingly, she was aware of his
semi-dressed state as he leaned casually against the inset wall of
the seat, aware of the pleasing contours of his handsome body. But
more than that, she wanted to know what his purpose was in
approaching her in such an obvious way.

“It’s not shock. I just wondered why.”

The smile he gave her was warm with
satisfaction. “Do you know what I like most about you, Jillian? You
never disappoint me. I expect you to say one thing, and you nearly
always say something else. We’ll never be bored with one another.
That’s where most marriages fail, you know—boredom.”

“I don’t know why you should be surprised
because I’m not shocked. I’m not a girl and I’m not as naive as you
might think.”

The earl’s gaze sharpened. “Is that so? Is
there anything in particular you are trying to tell me?”

Jillian knew what he asked and she suddenly
felt caught in the web of her own cryptic words. She did not want
him to think poorly of her but, on the other hand, she did not want
him to treat her like a complete innocent either.

“Not in the way you mean,” she said at last,
deciding to meet the question honestly. He looked so relieved, she
smiled inwardly. “I’m not going to tell you I haven’t had
opportunities. Even in the country away from everything a certain
type of male ferrets out the heiress, the woman of rank who can
help his position.”

“I remember you saying to Simon that you’d
had offers.”

“Some more honorable than others.”

Adrian frowned. “Have you been
insulted?”

“More times than you can imagine. A
destroyed reputation leaves one unprotected.”

“That is especially true for a woman.”

“Mostly true for a woman,” Jillian
countered. She pulled her own legs up on the window seat, feet
tucked beneath her, careful to cover her limbs with her gown.
“After the scandal I was remembered from my come-out, and several
gentlemen followed me when I left London, one at a time, you
understand, but not until Father had died and could no longer
shield me from such advances. Nearly all were fortune hunters. Lord
Peabody was perverted in some way, and he wanted a wife for, well…”
she felt her face warm, “to be frank, I’m not certain why he wanted
a wife but he frightened me.”