In the Garden of Disgrace (13 page)

She did not know why she was disconcerted by
the earl’s failure to appear. She should be glad that for one day
he had not pestered her, had not made her feel like a mouse evading
a determined fox. At any rate, that’s what she told herself.

Adrian’s interest had not waned. No matter
how she tried to repulse him, he had been steadfast in his
admiration. Only occasionally did she detect a trace of objection,
such as when she rode her horse bareback, but he had clearly made
the decision to resist dictating to her. Not that the earl wasn’t
determined to manage her existence. Never did he let a day go by
without reminding her they would marry. Thus, she reasoned that he
did not show his disapproval about her behavior because to do so
would give her ammunition to fight him when it counted most.

Every night when Adrian took his leave he
asked for a kiss. And every night he made her participate in the
ritual, drawing a response from her even when she was determined to
be passive. “A submissive female is not very interesting. I prefer
the fire and ice of contradiction,” he had said, which seemed odd
since she had been led to believe that most men wanted a compliant
woman.

It bothered Jillian to think she had missed
that kiss tonight. And yet, as she lay in her gloomy chamber she
feared it might be true. She enjoyed the sensual nature of the
closeness, and she enjoyed knowing he was aroused by her, for
Adrian had made no effort to hide that fact.

The earl had done what he said he would do.
He had made her aware of the carnal side of a relationship. And
presently the analogy he had drawn between passion and an addicting
drug did not seem quite as far-fetched as when he first spoke of
it.

Jillian sat up and tossed back the covers.
Too much contemplation could be a dangerous thing, she thought. The
restlessness had increased and she felt the need for action.

She eased off the bed and, shoving her feet
into pink satin slippers, padded across the room to open the door.
Perhaps a bite to eat would help.

In the kitchen Jillian found a small berry
pastry. Though delicious, she decided hunger was not her problem.
She left the unfinished pastry and walked to the kitchen door.
Releasing the bolt she stepped outside.

The night was cloudless and stars, many more
than she could count, winked at her from overhead. She could hear
the evening creatures, especially the rising then ebbing chorus
sung by numerous tree frogs. The stable yard tomcat yowled to his
latest conquest, and in the distance a lone owl hooted eerily.

This was the world at its best, she
thought—peaceful, undemanding, without reproach. She could slip
into the concealing shadows, wrapping herself in the tranquility,
and simply disappear.

She now knew what she wanted. Raven waited
in his stall. She glanced at her nightclothes, knowing she should
change, but her impetuous nature sent her scuttling across the yard
before she had time to reconsider.

Jillian did not light the lantern tonight.
She found the bridle in the usual place and put it on the horse,
feeling her way as she went. Luckily, Raven cooperated, seemingly
as eager as she for a late night ride.

She led the animal into the stable yard and,
minus a saddle, jumped on his back much like she always did. But
when she came into an upright position, her nightgown rose above
her knees. Without her boots and stockings she felt exposed yet
curiously unfettered and free of spirit. She let her slippers fall
to the ground then clutched Raven’s sides with her legs.

Jillian had to curb the impulse to send the
horse galloping from the yard. She made a clicking sound with her
tongue, urging Raven forward, but she held onto the bridle tightly,
so he did not break into the run they both wanted. Five hundred
yards from the house she gave him full rein.

The rush of the night air numbed her face as
Raven’s hooves flew over the ground. Jillian leaned low over his
back, clutching not only the reins but the animal’s mane as well.
So synchronized were rider and mount, for long moments Jillian felt
as though she were the horse, skimming the earth with a speed
gifted to only a few of God’s creatures.

She did not know how long she raced over the
open meadows before realizing she had ridden several miles from
home. She pulled on the reins, bringing Raven to a halt as she took
in her surroundings. She thought she recognized the trees that hid
the fishing stream on Squire Lindley’s property.

“Oh, Raven,” she whispered aloud, “If only I
didn’t have to return. I don’t like being confused. I thought I
knew what I wished from life. Why can’t I go back to the way things
were?”

Raven snorted, his warm breath rising on the
night air as he pawed the ground, and for that moment Jillian
wanted to imagine the animal understood. She felt certain no one
else did. Simon expected her to marry the earl, and Aunt Pru was no
better. In fact, her aunt already was planning the nuptials.

She began the return trip, this time at a
slower pace so the horse could cool down. By the time she arrived
home Jillian decided she had been gone more than an hour, but
everything seemed as peaceful as when she left.

She spent a few minutes rubbing down Raven
and giving him a drink and then exited the stable. Stopping in the
middle of the yard where she had mounted the horse earlier, she
looked for her slippers. Now that’s odd. Where were they?

A quick search did not turn up the missing
slippers and Jillian gave up. Perhaps a stray dog had carried them
off. Whatever the reason, she now was tired, a condition she
embraced with relief. She entered the house through the kitchen and
took the servants’ stairs to her chamber.

In her room Jillian washed her feet and,
exhausted, fell across the bed. She slept immediately, only to find
herself locked in a dream where a handsome gentleman demanded a
kiss—a kiss she surrendered with a great deal of enthusiasm.

*****

Adrian placed his tankard on the table and
glanced around the small inn. He was tired but the ale had
refreshed him, and in a few minutes he would raise his weary body
and proceed on to Sutherfield. Aunt Prudence’s home was near, but
the afternoon was advanced, and tomorrow would be soon enough to
see Jillian.

The past four days had been difficult. His
man of business had summoned him to London, and the earl found
himself tending to matters he had managed cheerfully to avoid for
years. There were also issues related to his mother’s death that
had to be settled. Feeling drained, he had done what he had to do
as quickly as possible and with profound relief departed the
city.

He was surprised by how much he had missed
Jillian. She never bored him, although he had to admit there were
times when he had to hold his tongue, especially when she
deliberately attempted to be outrageous.

He had not told her about his trip but
decided a little uncertainty might do her good. She was sure of him
lately, and he felt complacency on her part would not aid his
cause.

More and more he had come to grips with the
notion he would marry Jillian. And more and more he found the
prospect pleasing. He smiled to himself. The lady would be
disappointed if she knew how much he had come to care for her.

He drained the tankard, and a voice—an
ignorant one—caught his attention as he stood to leave.

“I tell you, Mikey, he said he saw her.”

“Go on with you, Owen, don’t no real lady
ride her horse in the middle of the night all alone.”

Adrian glanced to his left and saw two very
common fellows sharing a drink at a nearby table. Though neither
man seemed aware of him, a niggling suspicion regarding their
conversation caused him to pause. He sat down again, this time to
eavesdrop.

“I swear I’m tellin’ the truth,” the one
named Owen continued. “Barney saw her, he did. He was just hired on
to work in the stable for that old woman what’s never been married.
Couldn’t sleep the other night ‘cause of a cat fight, Barney said.
Wanted to check it out.” Owen stopped long enough to take a swig of
his ale. “So he goes to climb out of the loft, and what do you
know? The barn door flies open, and there stands the young mistress
of the house pretty as you please in her nightdress. He says he
ain’t never seed a more beautiful sight.”

“Go on,” Mikey said, in an awed voice.

“He said she had on this filmy thing, and
when she stood in the doorway the light from the moon showed
through it, making her look like she weren’t wearin’ nothing
at’all. He says he knows for certain she didn’t have nothing on
under that gown. Now what do you think o’ that?”

“I think Barney’s been drinkin’ too much
whiskey.”

“It’s true, I tell you. Barney’s got proof.
The young lady bridles her horse—no saddle, mind—and she leads the
animal into the yard. And this part I swear is true—she leaps on
the horse without no help, straddles ‘im, and her gown rises up to
here.” Owen, obliging fellow that he was, indicated a place on his
own leg that came to about mid-thigh. “Why, she was showing more
skin than a strumpet. And then she let’s her shoes fall to the
ground. So she’s not only in her nightdress, she’s barefoot.”

“Blimey, I’d a sure like to o’ seen that,”
said Mikey. “But that still don’t prove nothing. Saying it don’t
prove nothing.”

Owen gave him a superior smile. “Barney got
her shoes.”

“What?”

“She rode out on her horse, and once she was
gone he took her shoes. He’s bringing ‘em tonight to show all the
blokes.”

At that moment a shadow fell across the
table of Owen and Mikey, and both men glanced up.

Owen looked discomfited as he peered into
the Earl of Wickham’s face. “What say, gov’nor? How can I help
you?”

“You don’t mind if I join you, do you?”
Adrian asked.

The two men exchanged uncertain glances then
nodded their heads in unison. “Thank you,” the earl said. He pulled
out a chair and sat down, holding up three fingers to the barmaid
to indicate another round. “Now, gentlemen,” he began, “that’s
quite a story you are relating. Tell me about this fellow,
Barney…”

*****

“The pudding is especially tasty this
evening, don’t you think so, Jillian?”

Jillian, who had been playing with her
pudding for the last ten minutes, nodded absently. “I suppose so,
Auntie,” she said at last. “I guess I’m not very hungry
tonight.”

Prudence pursed her lips. “You haven’t been
yourself for days. What is the matter?”

“Nothing. I’ve just been rather restless.
Can’t seem to decide what I want to do. I hate being
indecisive.”

“Something in particular been concerning
you, dear? Would you like to talk about it?”

Her aunt gave her an incisive look, and
Jillian realized the older woman was aware of more than she let on.
Still, she could not bring herself to admit the truth out loud. The
footman entering the morning room kept her from having to
answer.

“My lady,” the servant said, “you have a
guest.”

“Who is it?” Jillian asked, ashamed of the
sudden hope that flared in her breast.

“Lord Wickham, my lady.”

She had to keep herself from leaping from
her chair. She took a deep breath. “Tell him I’ll be right there,”
she said.

Jillian then proceeded to eat her pudding,
taking sudden interest in the dessert as she tasted each tiny bite,
until her dish was clean. She knew her aunt was watching her in
appalled silence but she didn’t care. How dare he come here without
preamble after so many days? She refused to acknowledge that her
anger stemmed from relief.

She unhurriedly rose from the table,
straightened her skirt and sought out the parlor.

Adrian lounged on the settee as she came
into the room, his large body dominating the piece of furniture.
Something in his eyes as he watched her enter caused Jillian to
hesitate. Why, he had the nerve to look angry with her.

“My lord?” she said, keeping her voice
impersonal as she came to stand in the center of the room. “I hope
you didn’t mind waiting. I had not quite finished my supper.”

Rather than speaking, the earl rose slowly
to his feet and, walking to the door, very deliberately closed
it.

“Why did you do that? We’ll be accused of
impropriety,” she said, beginning to feel anxious.

It wasn’t the impropriety that worried her,
though. It was the strange, enigmatic expression on his dark
features.

“Come now, my dear, I hardly believe you
would be deterred by something as inconsequential as another
person’s opinion.”

The resonant sound of his voice,
half-amused, half-angry, made goose flesh form on her arms.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Adrian leaned against the door, arms crossed
over his chest. “You’re quite an actress, did you know that?”

“See here, if the purpose of this visit is
to insult me then I think you should leave.”

“Did you miss me, Jillian?”

Thoroughly confused, she looked at him
blankly. “Of course, I didn’t miss you. In fact, why are you here
now?”

He smiled grimly. “Since you are so
concerned by my absence, I’ll tell you where I’ve been. I was in
London seeing to business matters. On my way back to Sutherfield I
decided to stop at the inn five miles from here for some
refreshment.”

“That’s very interesting,” she said
sarcastically. “But since you were on your way to Sutherfield, that
does not explain why you are here.”

“I suppose you are right.”

He stood away from the door and, reaching
under his coat into the waistband at the back of his riding
breeches, he pulled out a pair of pink slippers and tossed them
into the middle of the floor. Jillian felt her heart rise in her
throat.

“Where did you get those?” she asked in a
horrified whisper.