To Protect and to Cherish (6 page)

             
She slipped by her uncle, unnoticed. He was still running about in search of someone to come to his aid when she bid his staff goodbye and climbed into the carriage.

             
Slade was not at his sister’s house when Jillian arrived, but she did not expect him to be.

             
“Lady Amelia,” Easton looked to the woman, “this is Miss Trent, your brother’s betrothed.”

             
“Miss Trent, Lady Amelia Geary.”

             
Lady Amelia smiled and nodded, “Please join us in the parlor.”

             
“I was surprised,” she began as soon as they took their seats, “with the contents of my brother’s letter.”

             
Jillian hoped the surprise was not too distasteful, “I am afraid the whole day has been quite astonishing to me as well.”

             
Lady Amelia pressed her lips into a smiled, “Slade is not typically a rash man. He tends to think things over – sometimes for too long.”

             
Jillian wished she could assure the woman that there were extenuating circumstances, but to do so would open up all involved to censure.

             
“I do not know what my husband will think when he arrives home.”

             
Jillian had no answer for that.

             
“You seem to have injured your face, Miss Trent. How did it happen? Are you a horsewoman?”

             
Jillian knew a fall off a charging animal could explain the myriad of bruises, but she would not lie about it.

             
“I used to ride often,” she changed the subject instead. “Sometimes more than once a day.  There is great freedom in being on an animal that moves so swiftly.”

             
“I’m terrified of them,” Lady Amelia responded. “Much to Slade and Anthony’s disappointment.”

             
It hadn’t occurred to Jillian before, but now she wondered if there was a possibility that she would be allowed to ride again. Uncle Horace had not wanted to replace the mare she lost when she was fifteen, and none of the other horses were suitable for riding.

             
“Slade said you were going to stay with us for three to seven days,” the lady began a new subject. “will you be going back to your uncle’s house then?”

             
Jillian shook her head, “I do not believe I will.”

             
Lady Amelia frowned, “Is there a problem there?”

             
“I believe Lord Ashley prefers I remain where he can watch me."

             
“For your entire engagement?” Jillian noticed that her betrothed’s sister was becoming increasingly more agitated.

             
“Lady Amelia,” she determined to tell the truth as much as it depended on her, “I am afraid there are things I am not at liberty to discuss. Perhaps I should talk to Lord Ashley, and he can tell me what he wishes to divulge.”

             
Amelia seemed to relax at that, “Why did Slade go to town today? Why not stay to introduce you to us?”

             
“My uncle’s housekeeper told me he went to get a special license.”

             
“From London?” she sat still more erect, “that is nearly twenty miles.”

             
Jillian’s smile was somewhat weak.

             
“Does he intend to marry you directly upon his return?”

             
“He did not discuss his plans with me.”

             
Amelia sat back again, “You are very accepting of your fate – whatever it may be.”

             
Jillian did not feel the statement required an answer.

             
“Perhaps it is a great inducement – the prospect of wealth and title.”

             
“It was neither that induced me to marry your brother,” Jillian felt the need to defend herself just a bit.

             
“So, you are in love with him?”

             
“I admit I scarcely know the man. He did me a great service some time ago, but, though I was grateful, I cannot say I felt any stirrings of love.”

             
She frowned, “Why are you marrying him?”

             
Jillian inhaled slowly through her nose, “He gave me no choice. Though I protested, he would insist. I do not pretend to know if this is a common trait for him, but he was quite determined.”

             
Lady Amelia grimaced, “That is very like him. He is like a dog with his bone.”

             
Jillian surprised herself and the lady of the house by laughing, “That is flattering to neither of us.”

             
Amelia joined in the laughter, “I suppose the question should be, ‘Why does my brother want to marry you?’”

             
Jillian didn’t know how to answer that.

             
“You are lovely, but so are many of the women who vie for his attention.”

             
The lady tapped a fingertip to her lips, “I cannot see that he would do this without some motivation. You are not an heiress?”

             
Jillian was disturbed by this picture, “Would that affect him?”

             
“I have never known it to draw his attention,” she quirked her head, “a relative of the king?”

             
Jillian smiled and shook her head.

             
“I can see nothing to motivate him but love,” Lady Amelia came to the most romantic answer possible.

             
Jillian chuckled, “We hardly know each other.”

             
The other woman leaned forward, “What is your explanation then?”

             
“Lady Amelia,” she began.

             
“Please, call me Amy. If you are going to be unraveling this mystery, I feel we should address each other less formally.”

             
Jillian laughed again, “I have nothing to tell you. Perhaps your brother felt it was time to marry.”

             
The elegant, perfectly styled lady omitted a rather indelicate snort.

             
“Amy,” a man came through the door.

             
Jillian was relieved she did not have to answer the woman’s questions any longer.

             
“Anthony,” Amy rose and reached out to the man before her, “we have had an exciting morning.”

             
He glanced at Jillian before returning his gaze to his wife, “I beg your pardon. I was not aware you had company.”

             
“Miss Trent, this is my husband Sir Anthony Geary. Anthony, this is Miss Jillian Trent – Slade’s intended bride.”

             
Anthony began to bow at the introduction, but quickly straightened to a ramrod, “His bride?”

             
Amy laughed, “Not yet, but very soon. She will be staying with us until the wedding occurs.”

             
Anthony seemed incapable of speech.

             
Amy sat back down on the setee, leaving enough space for her husband to join her.

             
“I do not mean to be so. . .surprised,” he sputtered, “I confess I did not expect anything like this.”

             
“Neither did I, Sir Anthony,” she admitted.

             
“I rode with Slade to the club this morning. He never said anything about it.”

             
“I do not doubt that. I believe the decision was made in a moment – and that moment was around the noon hour.”

             
He shook his head in amazement.

             
“We should begin to ready ourselves for dinner,” Lady Amelia looked at their guest. “You must be very tired and I have detained you in here with my conversation.”

             
“I have enjoyed it,” Jillian was in earnest.

             
The lady led her to a chamber that was not opulent, but had a certain simple beauty.

             
“If you need anything, please let me know. I believe your maid is in the dressing room.”

             
“Miss,” Erin came from that direction after Lady Amelia left, “shall I help you dress?”

             
“Please,” she did not tell the girl what she wanted to wear. Erin would choose something appropriate.

             
During the meal the couple continued to pepper Jillian with questions she could not answer. Anthony had so gotten over his shock that he was able to reintroduce a topic Jillian would have preferred to let lie.

             
“How did you injure yourself?”

             
She had been afraid the simple hairstyle was going to draw more attention to the bruising. She was right.

             
“I beg your pardon, sir. It pains me to be rude – especially after your great hospitality to me – but that is a question I prefer not to answer.”

             
He grinned, “I do not consider it rude, Miss Trent. Please forgive my rudeness in asking.”

             
She shook her head, “There is nothing to forgive, sir.”

             
Jillian retired quite early and did not awaken at her normal hour.

             
By the time she was dressed for the day, it was mid-morning.

             
“I wondered when you were going to make an appearance,” Amy was in the garden, “I hope you did not have difficulty sleeping. I always do in a strange bed.”

             
“I did not. Indeed, I have not slept so well in a week.”

             
Amy smiled and patted the seat beside her, “Come visit with me. I feel we need to share some secrets before we become sisters – even if they are not secrets about my brother.”

             
As if he had heard his sister calling to him, the maid announced the young duke’s arrival.

             
“Ah, there you are, Amy, Miss Trent.”

             
Amy rose, “I see our tale-telling will have to wait.”

             
Slade raised an eyebrow, but his sister scampered off without a word.

             
“Lord Ashley,” she rose and tipped her head toward him, “I trust you had a pleasant journey.”

             
“It was more pleasant on the way back because I knew I had accomplished what I had set forth to do.”

             
She tried not to sigh. Obtaining the license meant there was no turning back.

             
He smiled at her, “I heard that sigh, Miss Trent. You were hoping there would be an impediment.”

             
She smiled at being caught out, “I fear you are entering into this marriage with too little thought, sir.”

             
“I wish you would call me Slade,” he interrupted her.

             
She was not to be stopped, “Your sister is quite concerned about why you are doing this. I do not know what to tell her.”

             
“You are lovely,” he said simply. “Plenty of men have married for that reason alone.”

             
Jillian could not stop the blush at his words, but she continued her reasoning, “But you have not, and you have had plenty of opportunities to do so.”

             
“What makes you think this?”

             
“Your sister told me.”

             
“You are also compassionate. I saw how you fought to get help for your friends – in Southam and here as well. You would have sacrificed everything for their safety.”

             
She shook her head, “That will not do either, sir.”

             
“Slade,” he corrected.

             
She ignored him, “Many people have great compassion.”

             
“You set aside a life of wealth to go work in a tailor’s shop. You began a seven mile walk in the heat of summer. I believe you are a hard worker.”

             
“This flattery to me will not help you explain the situation to your sister or anybody else.”