“Immensely! Lady Bea knows how to throw a good bash.”
“I caught wind of your run in with Lady Clarice.”
Jillian made a face. “I have no idea why that woman despises me so. She’s now got it in her head that I am trying to land the duke in my bed.”
“Remind me to thank Lady Bea,” Case commented. “It’s about time someone put a stop to Lady Clarice’s wagging tongue. Speaking of Justin, have you seen him tonight?”
Jillian gave him a quelling look. “The duke and I have an unspoken agreement to avoid one another whenever possible, you know that.”
Case shook his head, laughing at Jillian’s expression. “I don’t believe I have ever witnessed such animosity between two people. Perchance could you just see fit to ignore him from now on?”
“For you, I shall try,” she said affectionately.
When the dance was over, Jillian excused herself and made for the French windows leading out into the gardens. The rush of cool air that met her as she stepped out onto the terrace was wonderful. It had been hard to breathe amid the hundreds of people packed into the confines of the ballroom.
She started down a path that led farther into the gardens, curious as to where it led and eager to put more distance between herself and the partygoers. Torches had been placed along the paths in the garden to illuminate the walkways. She soon reached a circular area with paths radiating from it in six places. An ornate fountain was the centerpiece and a lone tree had been planted beside it in the small grassy knoll surrounded by stone. There were wooden benches on each side of the fountain, facing it. She slid onto one of them, leaning back to breathe the cool night air.
###
Justin watched in silence as Jillian entered the center of the garden. He wondered if she was there for a clandestine meeting. She wouldn’t be the first woman to meet her lover in the garden during a ball. He watched as she sat on the bench and arched her neck, breathing deeply of the night air. He cursed under his breath as his eyes lighted on the swell of her breasts, thrust forward by her motion. He kept still, watching her, her face bathed in the moonlight. If she was here to meet her lover, she was obviously going to be left wanting because no one was coming. He stepped forward, his boots clicking on the stone path.
Jillian swung around at the sound of approaching footsteps. She had been a fool to come out here alone. “Who’s there?” she asked rather nervously.
“Good evening, Lady Penroth. I am beginning to think you correct when you say we have an annoying habit of running across one another.”
She was relieved and annoyed all at the same time. “Must you sneak up on me like that?” she demanded, her voice still shaky from her fright.
“My apologies for startling you. I had only just arrived here myself when I saw you approach."
“Tiring of the crush?” she asked, attempting polite conversation. She caught her breath when she caught full sight of him in the glow from the torches. He moved closer to her, and his scent enveloped her, making her completely forget the chilly night. He came to a stop in front of her and stood casually looking at her. A shiver raced down her spine, yet she felt warm all over.
“I am not overly fond of these social events,” he admitted. “What bringsyouout here?”
“I am not overly fond of these social events either.”
“I certainly wouldn’t have guessed,” he said dryly.
“Oh, let’s do call a truce for tonight,” she said tiredly. “Surely we can agree to hate each other tomorrow.”
“I did give my word to Case that I would be nice to you in public. I suppose we could call this public.”
“How sacrificing of you,” she said sarcastically. “I am fortunate I made no such promise to Case. Although I did agree to ignore you.”
He laughed and shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat. “Sheathe your claws, Lady Penroth. I promise to be on my best behavior, at least for tonight.”
“So what polite topic can we discuss then?”
“I imagine you came to the gardens for the same reason I did, for some quiet. Suppose we don’t talk at all and just enjoy the night. You can pretend I am someone else,” he said in a teasing tone.
“Careful, your grace, I might decide I like you if you keep that up.”
“Not likely. We are apparently sworn to dislike each other, twist of fate I suppose.”
“I don’t believe much in fate,” she mused. “I rather like to think we are in control of our own destiny.”
“What an odd thing for a woman to say,” he said, looking at her curiously. “I thought all women were fond of fate and destiny.”
Jillian snorted. “So you are an expert on women then, your grace?”
