In the Garden of Disgrace (37 page)

Jillian gave the earl’s arm a tug. After a
brief hesitation he moved with her, for she had shoved the pistol
more firmly into his side as an incentive for his cooperation.

“What is going on here?” he demanded.

“Don’t talk.” Which was a most practical
request, given that if she continued to communicate in that rasping
voice, she would begin to cough uncontrollably.

Jillian led him across the field in the
direction of the hackney, the quiet between them emphasizing their
footsteps as they plodded over the ground. While they walked she
could feel the moisture in the ankle-high grasses soaking into and
weighing down the hem of her domino. Any moment she expected to
hear a shout from behind them, ending her little game, but it never
came. Phillip must have done as he promised and kept the curious
preoccupied.

When they reached the carriage, Jillian
nudged Adrian again. “Open the door and get in.”

He reached for the handle, snapping open the
latch. “Are you certain you want to do this?” he asked as he placed
his foot on the step.

“Absolutely, my lord. Get in.”

He eyed her once more then hauled himself
into the hack. As he did, Jillian met the gaze of the driver. She
gave the man a curt nod before following the earl inside.

The vehicle flew into the lane and Jillian,
in the act of sitting, was nearly tossed to the floorboards.
Quickly she righted herself and took her seat, all the while waving
the pistol at the earl like a disoriented drunkard.

Across the carriage Adrian stared at her,
arms folded casually over his chest, his demeanor almost lazy.
Suddenly he leaned forward.

“Give me the gun,” he said.

She pulled back, shocked. “No!” she said,
forgetting to lower her voice.

At that his patience must have snapped, for
he snaked out his arm and, grabbing the pistol around the barrel,
yanked it out of her hand.

“Now you tell me, Jillian Fitzgerald,” he
roared, “what the hell do you think you are doing?”

She was so stunned she could think of
nothing to say. Then in a small voice, “You knew it was me?”

“Yes,” he barked.

“All along?”

“Yes, and take off that damned mask.”

“Then why didn’t you say something?” Her
words were muffled as she untied and removed the cloth
disguise.

“And expose your foolishness to everyone on
that field? My God, woman, when will you learn?”

“Adrian, please try to understand. I
couldn’t let you do it.”

“Couldn’t
let
me? You can’t stop
me.”

“I already have.”

He went very still. “You’ve only postponed
it, Jillian,” he said quietly.

And that of course was the one hole in her
plan. If she could not convince him this fight was unnecessary then
tonight would be replayed at a later date.

“Perhaps I’ve only postponed it, but I don’t
think so.”

“Why do you say that?”

She smiled at him across the darkened space.
“The point of a duel is to fight when tempers are at their worst,
when the insult is fresh. No one says, ‘Name your seconds. I’ll
meet you on the field of honor at the end of the month of
May.’”

“I know you are trying to tell me
something,” he muttered.

She tried again. “Even now, Adrian, you
can’t be as angry as you were twenty-four hours ago. When you first
confronted Lionel a duel would have had more meaning. Now it has
less and tomorrow even less.”

“You miss the point.”

Why must he be so pig-headed? Jillian
thought in frustration. Aloud she said, “There’s something that
might change your mind.”

“Oh?” Adrian’s skepticism seeped through his
words.

“Meredith is increasing. That’s what she
came to tell Lionel tonight. You don’t want to kill another father,
do you?”

“Damn! You do know how to draw blood with
that rapier you call a tongue.”

“I’m sorry, truly I am, but I wanted to
spare you the pain of regret.”

Adrian stared at her for so long, she began
to feel the heat of his gaze, compelling, exciting. He had eased
back against the squabs as though relaxed, and for the first time
the knot in Jillian’s stomach—a knot she had been unaware of until
that moment—relaxed as well.

“Come here.” The words were so softly spoken
she thought she misunderstood him.

She hesitated briefly then moved across the
carriage to sit next to him. He placed his arm around her shoulders
and pulled her tightly to his side.

“Interesting ensemble for a young lady,”
Adrian said gruffly. “What were you thinking tonight?”

“Why, my dear Lord Wicked, I wanted to
kidnap you as you once kidnapped me.”

“Did you now? Hardly the same situation,
love. I can honestly say I never intended to kidnap you. Your
actions this evening were quite premeditated.” He leaned close and
kissed the tip of her nose.

Jillian felt the warmth of his love flow
over her like a soothing cloak, and she nestled into his embrace,
soaking in his dynamic presence.

“Doesn’t it worry you that I might be
considered a coward?” he asked.

“Why? Because you were forced away from the
contest? And really, after all this time does it matter to either
one of us what people may think?
I
know you are no
coward.”

He squeezed her again in answer. After
several moments, he said, “Where are we going? This is not the road
into Bath.” He shifted in his seat, looking out the window. “We’d
better alert the driver.”

“There is no mistake.”

“Indeed?”

“How would you like to take a journey?”

Adrian gaped at her. “Not to Dover, Jillian?
You’ve recreated enough of that damned night.”

“Of course not, silly.” She smiled like a
contented cat. “I instructed the driver to take us to Gretna
Green.”

His eyes gleamed back at her. “Did you, by
God!”

“I did.”

“Would you like to explain what sudden
impulse brought this on? You are not attempting to remove me from
Bath and any opportunity to seek my revenge on Edgeworth, are
you?”

“Oh, something much more important than
that.” Jillian waited for him to grow impatient for her
explanation. He did not disappoint her.

“Well?”

“Seems to me, Adrian, you have a wager to
win.”

He took her chin in his hand as he scanned
her features. “You heard about that?” he asked gently.

She nodded, holding his gaze.

“I did not mean it as an insult.”

“I know.”

“We don’t have to do this thing now,
sweetheart. The wager is not lost until January first. And frankly,
it was never about winning or losing a bet. I’m willing to wait if
that’s what you want.”

“But, Adrian,” she said slyly, “don’t you
think after yesterday morning, perhaps it becomes expedient? I
could find myself in the same condition as Meredith. You
remember—those repercussions you mentioned to me once upon a
time.”

“Ah, yes, repercussions…Well, then,” he said
on a contented sigh, “Gretna Green it is.” He pulled her more
tightly into his arms. “Do you think Aunt Pru will be very
disappointed when she finds out?”

“Relieved, Adrian, she’ll be relieved.”

“Humm…” he said into her hair.

“You know,” she splayed her hand in the
middle of his chest, “it is a long ride to Gretna Green.”

The earl looked down at her, a sensuous
smile easing his mouth. “And…?”

“Kiss me, Adrian,” Jillian whispered, the
words like the rustle of fine silk.

“I don’t know,” his light blue eyes sparkled
with sudden enthusiasm, “I’ve never kissed anyone in trousers
before.”

“You’d best get used to it, for I’ve come to
think I like them more than a little.”

Adrian shook his dark head, his warm, husky
chuckle filling the carriage. “You always surprise me, love, you
always surprise me.”

And then with the promise of a new day
cresting the horizon, the Earl of Wickham commenced to instruct his
future bride on a few delightful surprises of his own.

*****