In the Garden of Disgrace (5 page)

“I’ve been in the garden. If I’d had some
notice I would have prepared myself for your venerated visit.”

“Yes, well…” he began, clearly
uncomfortable. She watched as his gaze drifted past her shoulder
and across the room.

An unwelcome suspicion caused Jillian to
spin around. She gasped. On the far side of the room occupying
Auntie Pru’s favorite chair was a gentleman, sitting quietly,
expressionless. Watching her. If she could have disappeared through
the floor, she would have gladly taken that escape.

“You didn’t mention we had company, Simon,”
she managed through her embarrassment.

She continued to look at the man, and an odd
feeling of recognition came over her. Something about the black
hair and the handsome features tickled her memory—and the eyes,
light blue and piercing. Yes, the eyes…

The swollen lip was new.

“Didn’t give me the opportunity, did you,
Jilly?” her brother was saying, “I would like to introduce you
to—”

He got no further, for Jillian pointed an
accusing finger at the guest and shrieked, “You! What are
you
doing here?”

“Jillian, behave yourself,” Simon admonished
her.

The Earl of Wickham came slowly to his feet,
a strange smile playing around his mouth. His gaze flicked over
her, and Jillian knew in that instant appraisal he had taken in her
disheveled appearance, the mud on her dress, her bare feet.

He bowed slightly, although his steely
regard did not leave her face. “I’m pleased to meet you again, Lady
Jillian. It’s a pleasure to be here.”

The words were deep and resonant and thick
with amusement. She suspected the amusement was at her expense.

“Why
are
you here?” she asked
rudely.

“Jillian,” her brother said again and this
time there was no mistaking his warning.

Lord Wickham raised his hand. “It’s all
right, Simon. Your sister has reason to despise me.” He turned to
Jillian. “I think your brother should provide the explanation.”

Is this how foreboding feels? Jillian
wondered as she stared first at one gentleman and then the other.
She sensed she was about to be told something she would not like,
and her stomach clenched with anticipation.

“Well?” she said when no one spoke.

“Perhaps I should allow you two a few
moments of privacy,” the earl said.

Simon looked at him. “Turning cowardly, my
friend? I think we should all be part of this. No secrets.” He
placed his hands behind his back and cleared his throat. “Jillian,”
he commenced in a pompous voice, “as you know, these last years
have been a trial, more for you than anyone.”

“I’ve weathered them,” she said coolly. She
glanced at the earl who watched her unnervingly.

“I know that’s true,” her brother said, “but
we are in the position of giving back some of what has been taken
from you. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Simon, you’re talking in riddles,” Jillian
said, “and you know how I dislike indirect speech. You’ve brought
this man here for a reason, and I would like to hear some plain
speaking.”

Again she looked at Lord Wickham, but he
continued to smile, a smile she noticed that did not touch his
eyes.

“Have it your way,” the marquess said in
exasperation. “Adrian is only now returning to England. You, of
course, know when he left. He swears that he did not realize the
hardships you encountered after that night he fled with you in his
carriage. He and I have had a talk…” Here, despite his annoyance,
Simon’s courage seemed to falter. “And well…he has agreed to help
you recover your reputation.”

“That was my carriage in case you’ve
forgotten,” Jillian bit out. “And please, pray tell, in what form
is this help supposed to come?”

“Adrian has consented to marry
you—naturally, after a suitable courtship.”

“Excuse me? He has
consented
to marry
me?” For the moment Jillian was too startled to be angry. “Should I
be pleased?”

She looked in the earl’s direction, but
there was no answer forthcoming from that stoical gentleman.

“Jillian, a little gratitude is in order.
Adrian is willing to do the noble thing, and this could be your
chance to have a husband and a family.”

“And this is supposed to make me happy?”

Simon nodded. “It is what most women
want.”

“It’s not what
I
want. Not this way.
What makes you think this is my only opportunity? I’ve had other
proposals.”

“Fortune hunters—outright scum, and you know
it. I’ll never consent to a marriage with that sort.”

Her brother’s highhanded decree was the
final insult. “So,” she said, her voice deceptively calm, “you
prefer I wed a murderer. Much better, I should think.”

Jillian knew before the remark left her
mouth that she should refrain, but wounded feelings sent the words
spewing forth before her common sense could intervene. One glimpse
at her brother’s furious expression told her she had gone too
far.

“Now that I’ve had time to reconsider,”
Simon directed his statement at the earl, “I believe my sister and
I should share a few words in private. Clearly, she has forgotten
her manners.”

He grabbed Jillian by the arm and dragged
her into the hall, leaving Lord Wickham to fend for himself. He
pulled her toward the morning room, not releasing his painful grip
until they reached their destination.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
he said through gritted teeth once he had banged the door into
place. “I never thought to be ashamed of you but by God I am
today.”

Not cowed, Jillian spat back, “Then perhaps
you’d best rethink your strategy. How dare you come in here
presuming to tell me how to conduct the rest of my life. I cannot
believe you expect me to marry that man.”

“I am the head of this family, and I can
have expectations, not the least of which is that you do as you are
told.”

“Poppycock!”

“I beg your pardon,” he said in an awful
voice.

“You heard me.”

“Jillian, what has happened to you? Your
behavior has become more outrageous with each year that passes. Do
you realize you are the talk of the countryside?”

She shrugged. “Lest we forget, Simon, Lord
Wickham has a dreadful reputation himself. He killed a man in a
very illegal activity. I don’t see how marriage to him is going to
help my situation. He won’t be accepted by the
ton
anymore
than I am.”

“You said he had no choice. In fact, you
were quite vocal eight years ago in your defense of Adrian.”

“Perhaps, but I also felt it was his fault
that the duel happened in the first place. He did sleep with
Viscount Findley’s wife after all.”

Her brother winced. “The conversation
becomes indelicate, Jillian. This is not something I wish to
discuss with you.”

“Men do have the advantage of retreating
into territory where women are forbidden when things become
uncomfortable,” she said bitterly. “But it doesn’t change anything.
What happened, happened. I don’t believe I want a man like that for
a husband. And what kind of father do you think he would be?”

“What I think is that you misjudge Adrian.
He was wild, I admit. However, I sense he’s changed. He and I spent
most of last night talking. He wants to do what’s right. I give him
credit for that.”

Jillian turned away from him and went to
stand in front of the French doors where the sunshine streamed into
the room.

“Instead of trying to mend my life, Simon,
can’t you accept that the die has been cast? I shall spend the
remainder of my life on the shelf. I’ve come to terms with that and
I’m happy. Be happy for me.”

“I can’t, and do you know why?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder.

“Because our father could not. Your disgrace
broke his heart. If he were here today what do you think he would
want you to do?”

“Damn you, Simon,
damn you
.” She
whipped around to face him, her chin trembling with emotion. “When
all else fails maybe guilt will work.”

“You were his favorite, you know that. He
wanted you to marry and have a family. That more than the opinions
of others is what hurt him most.” He shoved his hands into his
pockets as he watched her sadly.

“Do you really believe Papa would want me to
marry the earl?”

“He is the most appropriate choice.”

“Why? Because he is the instrument of my
downfall? Using that criterion seems to me he’s the worst possible
choice.”

Simon did not speak. Instead he shook his
head as he continued to watch her through sorrowful eyes.

“I’ll say it again—damn you.” She stared
back at him, torn between her own desires and what she feared might
be the right thing to do. At last she spoke. “I make you no
promises, Simon. If I feel Lord Wickham and I don’t suit, I won’t
marry him even to appease our father’s memory. If you are willing
to leave it at that then I shall try.”

Simon beamed at her. “Jilly, come here,
love,” he said, using her pet name, an indication all was forgiven.
He crossed the room and gave her a brotherly hug. “I can ask no
more.”

Her brother’s approval brought Jillian to
the brink of tears. He had manipulated her into doing his will, but
for the moment she didn’t care. Time enough later to worry about
how to get out of doing what he wanted without breaking her
promise. For now she would enjoy being in his good graces
again.

“Adrian and I are going to stay for supper,”
he said, “so make yourself presentable. If I’m not mistaken,
there’s a beautiful woman beneath all that muck.” Simon released
his hold but took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him.
“You do know, Jillian, I want the best for you, don’t you?”

Nodding, she remained silent, unwilling to
say what was on her mind because she didn’t want to fight with him
anymore.

In the hall Jillian paused to gather her
scattered wits. She believed her brother when he said he had her
best interests at heart. However, wanting the best for her did not
mean he knew what that was. And anyone with eyes could see the
dangerous gentleman in her parlor was not the answer to her
future.

*****

After Simon and Lady Jillian left the room,
Adrian sat down in his chair again. It was an uncomfortable chair,
a woman’s chair, he decided, as he tried to find a position that
did not make him feel in danger of slipping to the floor. He
crossed his legs, watching the entrance to the room.

Simon and his sister had been gone for ten
minutes, long enough for the earl to wonder if they were coming
back. Perhaps he should be relieved if they chose not to return—at
least, if Lady Jillian chose not to return.

Lord, she had a temper. He had a difficult
time equating the woman she was today with the frightened young
girl who had ridden in a stolen carriage with him eight years
before. But there was something else about her, something that had
not escaped his attention even hidden beneath the dirt and the
unpleasant disposition.

Lady Jillian Fitzgerald was a beauty. Last
evening after speaking with the marquess, Adrian had tried to
conjure an image of the girl she had been on that long ago morning
of the duel. Unfortunately, the effort had failed him. He did
recall being attracted to her but only that. However, seeing her
again had brought the memories flooding back.

A short while before when Jillian had
entered the parlor to greet her brother, the earl suddenly had
remembered the younger version of the lady—the even features,
flashing brown eyes and long dark hair like a luxurious swatch of
silk cloth. Still uncrimped, he noted with satisfaction.

She had changed but if he were any judge of
beauty—at any rate, he knew what he liked—then she had changed for
the better. Despite his reluctance Adrian was fascinated.

The marquess entered the room at that
moment, looking embarrassed but determined. “Jillian will be
joining us for supper. You will meet our Aunt Prudence at the same
time.”

“Be delighted,” the earl said dryly.

Simon gave him a sharp glance. “I apologize.
You can’t be pleased with my sister’s reception, but under the
circumstances we shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Of course, not.”

“Oh hell, come out with it,” the marquess
growled. “It’s not what you expected, is it?”

The earl uncrossed his legs and came to his
feet. “To be honest, Lady Jillian’s greeting was preferable to
yours.” He caressed his tender jaw. “And to answer your question,
nothing in a long time has happened the way I expected. I find it
prevents disappointment not to predetermine the future.”

“I’m having a time of it identifying with
your problem, I admit. I wanted to marry Cassandra.”

“Don’t underestimate your sister, Simon. Or
me. This is not the beginning one would choose given another
option, but I intend to make the most of it.” He ignored the
searching look Simon sent his way. “Now what kind of libation does
your Aunt Prudence keep on hand?”

*****

Jillian glanced in the cheval glass,
assessing the plain gown she wore. It was old and outmoded, but the
deep lavender of the material highlighted her complexion and dark
coloring. The bodice fit too snugly, indicating her figure had
changed over the years. Other than that she was pleased with the
result.

Satisfaction aside, she was annoyed with
herself for worrying about her appearance. She knew she should
maintain a fashionable wardrobe, but part of her rebelled at the
notion she must keep in step with a society that had rejected her.
And in truth, since she rarely entertained dinner tonight with her
brother and Lord Wickham was the first time in recent memory she
had felt one of her old gowns was not adequate to the occasion.