Case remained silent.
“What? No comment from my sarcastic friend?” she asked in mock amazement.
“I think that would be a very good idea,” he said softly. “I worry about you, Jilly. I think the act, the drinking, it all hides something that you don’t want anyone to see, but at some point you have to let it out.”
“You know better than anyone what that something is,” she replied.
“Yes, but I think there is even more. You haven’t told me everything. I can only imagine what things you have locked away in that head of yours.”
She smiled at him. “You are such a dear to worry over me. I know I have been trying, and I will endeavor to do better.”
“You misunderstand me, Jilly. I don’t want you to change who you are. I only want you to betrueto who you are. No matter what others may think, this woman of the last six months is not you.”
She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She knew he was right. He knew he was right, yet she didn’t want to dwell on the accuracy of his words. A nearly audible sigh of relief escaped her when Hilda came into the room.
“My lady, this just arrived for you.”
She held out an envelope, and Jillian took it, looking with interest at the wax seal. She broke it open and hastily scanned the contents. Putting the paper down on her lap, she looked up at Case in shock. “It’s an invitation to afternoon tea with the Dowager Countess of Winthrop.”
“More like a royal summons then,” Case said in amusement.
“Whatever could she want?”
At sixty-two, Beatrice Dunberry, Dowager Countess of Winthrop, or Lady Bea as she was affectionately termed by theton,was one of the reigning queens of society. She had been a long-time committee member of Almack’s before stepping down the previous season. She wielded a great deal of power in polite circles, and much respect was afforded her.
Jillian was tempted to decline the invitation, but curiosity won out in the end. So much for staying in today. She rose and walked over to the small desk at the opposite end of the room and pulled her stationery from the drawer. She hastily penned a response and summoned Hilda to have it delivered to the countess.
“What shall you do between now and the time you meet with Lady Bea?” Case asked as Jillian settled back into her armchair in front of the fire.
“I am going to the dressmaker’s with Elsie. I am having an entire new wardrobe fashioned.”
“A new wardrobeandyou’re taking Elsie out with you? I can only take so much respectability from you in a day.”
“I am only taking Elsie because she needs new dresses. I sincerely doubt she would appreciate my mourning castoffs,” she said with a chuckle. “And I am getting new clothing because my previous wardrobe isacceptablein half mourning.”
Case laughed. “I had forgotten that white was appropriate for half mourning. Stupid custom, that. Either you’re mourning or you aren’t.”
“Most likely not,” Jillian said dryly.
“Should I prepare myself for this latest change in wardrobe?” he asked in mock concern.
She gave him a dark look. “You needn’t worry. I am opting for more suitable attire this time.”
He arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh do tell, what prompted this?”
She took a sudden interest in the fire, avoiding his glance. “Oh nothing,” she said airily.
Case observed her for a moment trying to decipher her vague response. This unexpected change was puzzling, as was her reluctance to tell him the reason behind it. No matter, he was secretly glad she was opting for a more conservative approach. It bothered him to see her ridiculed and scorned by society.
He consulted his fob and to his regret it was time for him to be going. He was due at Justin’s shortly. The mystery surrounding her change of heart would have to wait.
“Well, I am off.” Case rose. “I am going over to Justin’s, but I will come around tonight to see how your meeting with the countess went.”
###
Justin sat behind his desk, quill in hand, as he went through the many letters that had collected dust during his time away. He chewed absently on the tip as he tried to focus on the words in front of him. With a curse, he dropped the pen and crumpled the paper, throwing it across the room. He couldn’t stop thinking about the day before.
Why did the woman in the park have to be Case’s notorious Countess? He had lain awake last night remembering how she had looked, her laughter, the aura of vulnerability that had emanated from her. He snorted. Vulnerable, ha! She was a brazen siren.
