Fanning the Flame (19 page)

Adam reached for Jillian's hand and drew her forward. "You remember Miss Whitney?"

"Why, yes, of course. She's coming to see my rose garden."

Jillian managed a smile. "I could stop by this afternoon . . . if that wouldn't be inconvenient."

"No, no, of course not. But perhaps you'd like to see it now. It's beautiful this time of day, with a trace of dew still clinging to the petals."

Jillian latched onto the chance for escape. "I should like that very much." She tossed Adam a glance. "With your permission, my lord."

He made a slight inclination of his head, his dark gaze warning he meant to take up where he had left off. "Enjoy the roses."

Oblivious to the swirling currents around them, Lady Blackwood linked her arm with Jillian's and the two women walked to the door. They talked of flowers and planting as they left the greenhouse, but Jillian found it hard to concentrate.

Her mind kept returning to the earl, and every time it did, her worry kicked up another notch.

It was nearly an hour later that Jillian said farewell to the countess and returned to the house. As they had strolled among the roses, Lady Blackwood had spoken of Adam, regaling her with humorous tales of his misspent youth. It was just before she departed that Jillian learned the story of Adam's betrothal to Caroline Harding.

"Adam was in love with her," the countess had said.

Jillian had the feeling the woman wouldn't have uttered a word of something so private before she'd had her stroke, but her mind worked differently now.

"I suppose Caroline convinced him that she was in love with him, too. At any rate, I didn't discover the truth of her betrayal until after my son joined the army. Then I heard the gossip that poor dear Adam had discovered his beloved Caroline in a compromising situation with his cousin Robert." She glanced up.
"Extremely
compromising. It must have been terrible for Adam."

Terrible indeed.
To fall deeply in love and then find your betrothed making love with another man. It occurred to her that Caroline Harding was probably the reason he had joined the army. In a way, the nightmares he suffered were a result of Caroline's deceit.

"But all of that is behind him now," the countess finished as they walked among the roses. "I couldn't be more thrilled with his choice of bride. You'll give him beautiful sons and strong, intelligent daughters. I can scarcely wait to see them."

Jillian swallowed. "Please understand, Lady Blackwood, your son and I are merely friends."
Friends?
Adam was her lover. And even that tenuous bond would be brief. Jillian felt a painful twist in her heart.

The countess started fanning herself as if she had walked several miles. "You'll have to excuse me, my dear. These old bones simply aren't what they used to be. Tell Carter I'd like to see him whenever he can manage to get away, and don't worry, dear. I'm sure Adam will be back from Egypt very soon."

It was sad, Jillian thought as she watched the woman walk away. At least Lady Blackwood had enjoyed a fruitful life and the joy of having a family. It was something Jillian would never experience. Even the number of years the countess had lived might be denied her. In truth, if she didn't find a way to prove her innocence, she might yet hang.

Jillian ignored a shiver as she walked back to the house.

Chapter Fourteen

She didn't see Adam for the rest of the day. He had been working in his study, the task of being an earl more demanding than most people knew. There were properties to manage, tenants to look after, family matters that required hours of time and attention.

In fact, just before supper, one of those family matters appeared on Adam's doorstep.

"Sorry to interrupt ye, Major, but your sister, Lady Margaret, just arrived." They were finishing a meal of creamed salmon and perigord pie that Jillian mostly shoved around on her plate. She was worried, and not just about the search that was going on in London.

It was her growing attraction to the earl that had her stomach tied in knots. The man exuded power and sexual appeal and whenever he looked at her, the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable. She knew what he was thinking, knew he meant to come to her tonight.

Then Reggie stepped into the dining room and whatever plans Adam might have had disappeared like smoke in the wind.

"Ye've company, milord," Reggie said. "I told Lady Margaret I was supposed to announce her but—"

"But I told him he needn't bother. I am perfectly capable of announcing myself." Margaret Hawthorne entered the room like a beautiful, raven-haired whirlwind. Dressed in a ruby velvet riding skirt with a short matching jacket cut in the military style and a matching top hat cocked at a saucy angle, she had refined, perfect features and skin as pale as cream.

Though Adam was darker, the resemblance between them was unmistakable, as well as Adam's affection for her.

"Maggie!" He shoved back his chair and came to his feet. "I thought you and Aunt Sophie were in Tunbridge Wells. What in God's name are you doing here?"

Lady Margaret threw her arms around her brother's neck and gave him a hug Adam warmly returned. "Aunt Sophie's been giving me fits. I had to get away before I went insane." She flicked a glance at Jillian. "Besides, I heard you were embroiled in a marvelous new scandal, and I had to see for myself the woman who had lured you into yet another bout of intrigue."

Another bout of intrigue.
Jillian's stomach tightened even as the whirlwind turned in her direction, flashing a bright, seemingly guileless smile.

"I'm Margaret Hawthorne," she said before her brother had a chance to introduce them. "Everyone calls me Maggie. You must be Jillian Whitney."

Jillian stood up from her chair. Maggie was several inches taller and she already felt at a disadvantage. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady."

"Now that you've interrupted our supper," Adam said, "and made Jillian wonder at your sanity, perhaps you'd like to join us for something to eat?"

Lady Margaret smiled. It was the same magnificent smile her brother used so rarely. It seemed to come naturally to Maggie. "I ate at the George and Dragon, just outside the village. I'm as full as an overstuffed feather bed."

Adam chuckled, took in her velvet riding outfit, and frowned. "How did you get here? Tell me you didn't ride all this way by yourself."

"Of course not. Winifred, my maid, is in the carriage, along with a driver and a footman. They should be arriving any moment."

Adam cursed softly. "You should have stayed with them. How many times have I warned you about the danger of riding off on your own?"

Maggie waved away his concern. "Oh, don't be such a toad, Adam. I daresay, nothing happened. I hate riding inside that stuffy old coach and you know it. Besides, I told you, I only came ahead the last few miles."

Jillian fought a smile at the dark look on Adam's face. He glanced from his sister to Jillian, imagining, perhaps, what might have occurred between them if his sister hadn't arrived, and frustration flashed for a moment in his eyes.

"I think we're through with supper," he said. "Why don't we adjourn to the drawing room? Maggie can regale us with tales of her journey."

She flicked a sideways glance at Jillian. "I should rather hear what is happening with the murder investigation you are involved in. Perhaps there is something I might do to help."

Adam sighed. "How did you know I was conducting an investigation?" He offered his sister one arm and Jillian the other and guided both women out of the dining room.

"It was mentioned in the
Times.
And on every wagging tongue in London. I swear, brother dear, you have a knack for stirring up trouble, even when it isn't your own."

"And you, young lady, have a knack for sticking your nose into other people's business."

"You're my brother." She aimed a pointed glance at Jillian. "That makes it my business." With those words, Jillian realized that Maggie Hawthorne was far more than the flighty, outspoken young woman she appeared. She had come to assess the situation her brother had got himself involved in and perhaps do something to protect him. Jillian was beginning to like Margaret Hawthorne.

It would be interesting to see how the evening progressed.

As it happened, the night developed quite differently than Jillian expected. In the beginning, it was rather a sparring match, with Adam irritated at his sister's none too subtle probing and Jillian deciding the best approach to Margaret Hawthorne's interest was an honest one, which meant giving the girl the answers she had come to get.

"So the butler accused you of murdering Lord Fenwick," Lady Margaret said, repeating the explanation she had been given thus far. "You were afraid no one would believe your side of the story so you ran away."

"Yes, that is exactly what happened. And as it turned out, no one did . . . except your brother."

Adam filled in the part about confronting Jillian in the alley, adding, "Much of the gossip you've heard about Miss Whitney is wrong. She was Lord Fenwick's ward, nothing more. And she had no reason to kill him. In fact, if the earl had lived just a few days longer, Miss Whitney would have become an extremely wealthy woman."

By the end of the evening, miraculously, the women wound up on a first-name basis, Jillian apparently having won Maggie Hawthorne's support.

"I wasn't sure I was going to like you," Maggie said with her usual candor during a moment Adam had briefly departed the room. "My brother's taste in women isn't known to be particularly good, but I think perhaps on this occasion he has stumbled upon a different sort."

'Thank you—I think." Both women laughed. They were still grinning when Adam returned to the drawing room.

"It's getting late," he said with a heated glance in Jillian's direction. "Since you both seem to be in such good humor, perhaps now is a good time to take yourselves off to bed."

"Good idea." Maggie came to her feet. "It's been quite a long day." She smiled at her brother. "I'm sure you two would like a moment. If you'll excuse me." She brushed past them on her way out the door, leaving them alone in the drawing room.

Apparently Jillian had been right about the younger woman's support.  It made her feel guilty for bringing such a terrible scandal down on her head.

"I hate what this is doing to your family," Jillian said. "Your sister is so very young and lovely. She should be able to choose from the most eligible bachelors in London, but with the scandal I've embroiled you all in—"

"Maggie's a little too outspoken for a good many of those men, no matter how lovely she is. Besides, it's too late to worry about that now. Once this is settled, I'll do what I can to repair the damage."

She swallowed, nodded. What other choice did she have?

Adam walked her up the stairs to her room and she could feel the tension in his body. All evening, he had watched her with hot, hungry eyes, a banked fire waiting to burst into flame.

By the time they reached the door to her bedchamber, that fire had blazed to life. The air seemed to heat and thicken around them. Adam's mouth held a sensuous twist as he bent his head and brushed her lips with a feather-soft kiss, then moved to the side of her neck.

"Leave your door unlocked," he whispered, his warm breath feathering the hair at her temple. "I'll come to you as soon as the household falls asleep."

Part of her wanted to, the wild, wanton part of her that had led her into his room last night. With the servants abed and just the two of them in the house, she had been brave enough to take what she wanted. Tonight, knowing his sister slept just down the hall and no decent woman would behave in such a manner, welcoming the earl was impossible to do.

Jillian looked up at him. "I realize after last night what you must expect from me, but your sister is in the house and I just . . . I cannot feel right about . . . about . . ."

For a moment his jaw went tight. Then he sighed and made a faint nod of his head. "You're right. I shouldn't have pressed you, not with Maggie in the house. And in a strange way, I'm glad you feel as you do." He smiled and stepped back, very gallantly lifted her hand and pressed his lips against the back. "Good night, Miss Whitney. Sweet dreams."

Three days passed. A cool breeze blew clouds in from the coast and only a weak sun shined through the high arched windows. Across from Adam in the Green Drawing Room, Jillian sat next to Maggie on the sofa, while Garth Dutton, the barrister he had hired, sat in an overstuffed chair in front of a malachite hearth.

"I wish I'd brought better news," Garth said to the small company sharing the warmth of the slow-burning flames. "I know you were hoping to discover that Howard Telford had a motive for murdering his uncle—aside from the obvious fact it would hasten his acquisition of the title. But according to Benjamin Morrison, Telford had no idea his uncle meant to change the will."

Garth was taller than average, an attractive blond man of thirty that Adam had known at Oxford. Garth had been among the most brilliant students in his class. He was loyal, trustworthy, and determined, already a powerful force in the legal profession. Exactly the reason Adam had hired him.