“I’ve known a few in my time.”
She blushed. “There is no need to be vulgar. So do you believe in fate?”
“Hmmm, no. I suppose I am in agreement with you, I think we control our own fate. We pay for stupid mistakes we make and reap the rewards for making the correct choices.”
“It’s too bad we are sworn to dislike each other. In other circumstances I think we may have been good friends.” She rose regretfully. “I appreciate yourgenerosity, your grace, and for making our encounter a pleasant one, but I must return. I do not want to be the cause of idle speculation, given that you too are absent from the ball.”
He looked at her, surprise written on his face.
“Don’t say it,” she warned. “I know well what you are thinking. Let’s just say you don’t know as much about me as you’d like to think.” She turned and swept back up the path to the ballroom.
CHAPTER SIX
The next morning Jillian was besieged with gentleman callers. They arrived bearing freshly arranged bouquets of flowers, expensive chocolates and some even penned poems for the occasion. After the fifth caller, she fled to her garden. If she had to listen to one more fop ardently pledge his undying devotion, she may well hie herself straight out of the country.
This most unexpected turn of events was completely baffling. Last week, she would not have been considered suitable marriage material, yet she had received three proposals just this morning. Jillian sighed and wondered if she should take out a notice in theTimesstating her intention to never wed. She smiled in amusement at the thought. Unfortunately, were she to do something that drastic, it would most certainly backfire on her. No doubt, she would immediately be placed in the notorious betting book at White’s and the efforts of her admirers would be redoubled as they vied to see who could be the one to catch the “wicked widow.”
Lady Bea’s support had suddenly garnered her respectability. Who knew it could be so annoying? In any case, she would only have to tolerate it for one more week. The Chattingtons’ annual ball signaled theton’s to retreat to the country for Christmas. Every year on the last day of November, they threw a huge gala at their London home. It was by far the largest and most lavish affair outside the regular season in the spring, usually lasting an entire weekend.
This year it was to be a masque and preparations were already underway for the big event. Jillian hadn't given much thought to what she would wear. She had mentioned the ball to Fiona, but wasn’t entirely sure she would have an appropriate costume. If not, she would make do with a mask. The rest of her new wardrobe was to be delivered tomorrow, so she would address the issue of her costume then.
“It’s safe for you to come in now,” Hilda called from the doorway. “I’ve told them you aren’t receiving any more callers today.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Jillian muttered, as she rose from her seat. “I was beginning to wonder if I should consider changing my address.”
“This came for you a while ago,” Hilda said, handing her a folded piece of paper. She returned inside, leaving Jillian to follow.
Jillian walked into the library, pausing by the fire to warm herself. She looked at the piece of paper she held wondering if it was from yet another love-struck admirer. It was folded in three with black wax sealing it closed. There was no seal to identify the sender. How odd. She knew of no one who used black wax. She broke it open and read the contents.
Faithless bitch
She nearly dropped the slip of paper in her surprise. Her eyebrow furrowed as she scanned the words again, looking for another message or some clue as to the sender’s identity. Frowning, she turned the paper over. There was nothing to indicate who the sender was there either. As far as practical jokes went, this wasn’t an amusing one and surely that was all it was--a harmless prank. She walked to her desk, dropped it into the top drawer and closed it shut. Perhaps Case could offer some insight; she would ask him about it when she next saw him. Shaking off her sense of unease, she left the library in search of Hilda.
She found Hilda and Elsie sitting on the bottom step of the stairs. Elsie’s eyes were red from crying and Hilda had a comforting arm around her. Jillian cocked an eyebrow as she approached them. “What on earth can be the matter?”
Elsie looked up at her, fresh tears spilling from her eyes. “I got a letter from my Johnny this morning, and he’s lost his job,” she wailed. Jillian looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.
“They were to be married,” Hilda explained. “He was working in Kensington Village at a factory there. When he had saved enough wages, he was going to buy a cottage and send for Elsie.”
“Now we’ll never be together,” Elsie sobbed.
“It can’t be that bad,” Jillian said soothingly. “Do stop carrying on so, Elsie, you will make yourself ill.” She thought for a moment. “Elsie, do you suppose Johnny could do the duties of a footman?”
“Oh yes, my lady, he is ever so smart,” she said, hope lighting her face.
“Very well then, we’ll have Harry drive you to Kensington to collect Johnny. Hilda, you should go along. We can’t have Elsie running about with Johnny unchaperoned,” she said with a wry smile.
Elsie looked at her in shock and then sprang up and threw her arms around Jillian. “Oh thank you, my lady!”
“Well then, go on up and get your things packed. You have a long journey ahead of you,” she said, smiling at Elsie’s exuberance.
“You’ve done a wonderful thing my lady,” Hilda said softly as she and Jillian watched Elsie run up the stairs to pack her bags.
“You best get your own bags packed. I’ll go let Harry know so he can ready the carriage.”
She ducked back into the library and came back with a coin purse, handing it to Hilda. “You’ll need this to pay for your meals and lodging. Make sure Johnny has a suitable wardrobe as well.”
“You are very good to all of us.” Hilda’s eyes were suspiciously wet.
