He went sprawling as Justin punched him squarely in the jaw.
Justin stood over the prostrate man, watching as Wisecoff rubbed his injured jaw. “You ever insult me or Lady Penroth in such a fashion again, you’ll name your seconds.”
He strode away leaving Wisecoff to pick himself up off the street. He swore under his breath. Such a scene was unthinkable, but it was not in him to allow a lady, even one as dubious as Jillian, to be the recipient of such callous behavior.
What the devil had gone on between them? Jillian had been as pale as a sheet and her every movement screamed her fright. And her eyes—the look in her eyes made his gut wrench. She had fled as if the hounds of hell were at her heels.
This was growing more and more perplexing. Whatever Jillian’s secrets, they were becoming more mysterious by the minute. If he were smart, he would quit London and retire to Whittington for the winter, yet he couldn’t make himself leave. Not yet.
CHAPTER TEN
London was devoid of much of the gentry as they had gotten into their carriages and disappeared to their country estates. The streets of Mayfair were much quieter and less littered with carriages. The smell had certainly improved as well, since the streets weren’t teeming with horses relieving themselves on the cobblestones.
Too bad one pile of manure had remained.Lord Wisecoff. The very name conjured up images of the devil. Now that Jillian had employed a footman, she no longer went out unaccompanied after her encounter with Lord Wisecoff. Johnny’s presence was comforting, though she limited her excursions to short walks in the park.
Even there, she was nervous about the possibility of running into Justin. He would be curious about her encounter with Lord Wisecoff, and she could well envision him being forward enough to demand an explanation. This was part of the reason she had fled so hastily when Justin had stepped in to rescue her.
It was just as well she avoid him. He evoked too many puzzling emotions within her. His very presence was unsettling, as was evidenced by her reaction the day he came to her house. There was enough to keep her busy at home in any event.
The domestic agency had sent over a new maid at her request, and the past few days had been spent settling her in and detailing her responsibilities. Her household now numbered six, seven if you counted Case’s constant presence.
As the days grew colder the inhabitants of Jillian’s house would gather in the parlor in the evenings where they would sit in front of the fire and enjoy warm cups of chocolate. She and Case often played chess while Elsie tended her mending, Johnny and Harry enjoyed an evening drink and Hilda and Catriona, the new maid, dabbled on the pianoforte.
She had not gathered the courage to ask Case if Justin had retired to Yorkshire, and he had not volunteered the information. For some reason, the idea of not seeing him again weighed greatly on her. Given his preference for country life, he may well not return for the spring season.
At the beginning of the second week in December, Jillian decided to venture out to Mr. Littleton’s bookshop for some new reading material. She refused Johnny’s offer to accompany her, knowing that he and Elsie had planned a day of shopping on their own. Instead, she had Harry fetch the carriage and she went alone. There was no use in hiding forever. She would no longer allow her fear to keep her from doing the things she most enjoyed.
The carriage moved quicker as they set out, unhindered by much traffic. They turned onto Grosvenor Street at a brisk pace en route to Bond Street when one of the horses suddenly reared and charged ahead. Jillian screamed in terror as the world turned upside down and she was tossed against the side of the carriage. Desperately, she tried to right herself amid the tumbling cushions and splintering wood. A bolt of agony seared through her temple as a single thought repeated over and over. She didn’t want to die.
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Justin was returning from an appointment with his solicitor when he saw an out of control carriage careen around the corner on two wheels. He stared in horror as it crashed, rolling over and over before finally coming to rest on its side. From the back of his mind came a flash of recognition. It was Jillian’s carriage. The intricately shaped J on the doors had gleamed brightly in the morning sun.
“Oh my God, Jillian!” he yelled hoarsely, spurring his horse into a gallop.
He slid from the saddle and scrambled through the wreckage of wheels and splintered wood. He threw open the door and climbed up on top, looking in. “Jillian! Jillian, can you hear me?” he shouted. He finally located her among the scattered cushions. She wasn’t moving.
By now the wreckage had attracted a crowd of onlookers and a few rushed over to assist him. He climbed into the interior, still calling Jillian’s name. She was lying, unconscious, against the side of the carriage that rested against the street. He gently examined her limbs, detecting no broken bones. “Come on, Jillian, wake up,” he whispered. He gently picked her up and lifted her up to a bystander. He climbed out of the carriage and quickly reclaimed her. “What about her driver?” he called out to the people standing around the debris.
“I’m here,” Harry grunted, walking gingerly towards him. His arm dangled by his side, obviously broken. “Her ladyship?” he asked fearfully.
“She’s alive,” Justin said grimly, unable to offer more.
He motioned Harry towards a nearby hackney then he climbed in, still holding Jillian tightly to him, and directed the driver to take them to his home.
Once there, he shouldered his way into the foyer shouting for Edward. “Send for the doctor,” he ordered. “And see to her driver, he needs medical attention as well.”
He laid her on his parlor couch, and she moaned softly. “Jillian, can you hear me?” He gently smoothed the hair from her face, uncovering a bruise already marring the pale skin of her temple. Her eyes fluttered open. She blinked rapidly as if trying to bring her surroundings into focus. Her brow furrowed in puzzlement when she saw Justin and she winced in pain.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He smiled. “I live here.”
“In that case, how did I get here?” She struggled to sit up.
He pushed her firmly back to the cushion. “Don’t try and get up, I’ve sent for the physician. Where do you hurt?”
“Just my head,” she murmured.
