Evading the Duke

by Jane Charles

  “Hannah, there you are,” Samuel said, coming to his sister’s side. He greeted Jillian and then her cousin and turned as Thorn stepped out of the house.

  “Today there is to be a scavenger hunt,” Thorn announced. “You will be assigned a partner and then put into teams of six.”

  Jillian stifled a groan. She hated these events. She was always paired with people who didn’t like her, and for good reason, and frankly, she was very poor at these games. She didn’t do well figuring out the clues and always was left to feel like an idiot.

  Thorn began listing the partners and she held her breath, afraid to look around and see the look of disappointment on the poor gentleman’s face who was stuck with her.

  “Lady Jillian Simpson is to be paired with Mr. Samuel Storm.”

  She blinked and looked up. Had she heard correctly?

  “It looks like we are to be partnered,” Samuel said.

  “It appears so.”

  Samuel as a partner alleviated some of her anxiety, but would he be disappointed in her when he realized she wasn’t very good at this game?

  Chapter 12

  In the end, the two of them were paired with Mr. and Mrs. Blake Chetwey as well as Mr. and Mrs. Jordan Trent. This could work out well. Chetwey was his friend and would be of assistance, and Trent once had a reputation to rival Thorn’s, so certainly he’d understand that Sam would wish to be alone with Jillian if only for a short time.

  “Oh, I’ve never been any good at figuring out the clues,” Mrs. Trent said.

  “Me either,” Mrs. Chetwey agreed.

  Jillian visibly relaxed at his side. “I am so glad, because I am horrible at scavenger hunts.”

  “Your first clues,” Thorn announced. “Each team should take one but do not open them until I say.”

  It was Chetwey who went to get theirs and brought it back. They waited until all the groups were together and then Thorn told them they could open the clue.

  I’m full of water

  But don’t take a sip

  I’m here for enjoyment

  Not a dip

  “A fountain?” Jillian said.

  “I thought you said you weren’t very good at this game,” Sam teased.

  She blinked up at him with those beautiful blue eyes. “I’m not.”

  He just hoped she wasn’t intent on playing because he had other plans.

  Thorn had a large fountain at the back of the garden and the other four in their group hurried ahead. Samuel and Jillian walked slower. There had to be a way that they could separate from the group without being obvious.

  By the time Sam and Jillian reached the others, they’d already read the clue.

  “A shelter hidden within the green,” said Trent.

  “A folly? Gazebo?” Mrs. Trent guessed.

  All of them turned to look at the copse of trees surrounding three sides of the estate.

  “Where do we begin?” Chetwey asked

  “We can all go in separate directions and hope we find it,” Sam suggested.

  Trent’s lips quirked when he looked from Sam to Jillian and back again. “We are required to remain together.”

  Blast. He didn’t want to ruin the game by disqualifying them because he wanted to be alone with Jillian.

  “Then which direction?” Mrs. Trent asked.

  “Others are going east.”

  “The path is larger than any others,” mussed Lady Chetwey.

  “Doesn’t that seem a bit too obvious,” Trent suggested. “Unless Thorn wishes to keep this easy.”

  “I don’t think he would,” said Chetwey.

  Sam agreed with his assessment and assumed that each clue would become more difficult. “Then I suggest we go west.” Samuel grinned.

  “West it is,” Trent said and started off in that direction.

  It was soon clear why nobody went in this direction. There was but a very narrow path when a much wider one went in the opposite direction. Wild flowers of purple and pink bloomed among the wild foliage, and animals scurried in the dried leaves. “It’s lovely,” Mrs. Chetwey said.

  Sam was just about to suggest they turn back when the white of a building peeked through the trees. The others hurried ahead. Jillian, who had been by his side, let out a little cry before she fell forward, landing on her palms.

  Thank goodness for her gloves or her hands would be quite scraped, though that didn’t lessen the pain in her wrists. Further, her ankle throbbed.

  Samuel was kneeling on the ground by her side in an instant. “Are you harmed?”

  “Embarrassed,” Jillian laughed as she rolled over and sat up.

  “Here, let me help you.” With this arm about her waist, Sam helped Jillian come to her feet. She shook out her gown and brushed the twigs and leaves from her skirts. Her left ankle ached, but she didn’t want to say anything until she tested it with walking.

  “What happened?” Chetwey called, coming back to them.

  “My foot caught on something.”

  Chetwey crouched and cleared the area revealing a large root that she’d caught her foot on. “We should clean up the area before anyone else is injured.”

  “We’re the only ones who have come this way,” Samuel said.

  “The others will be along if they don’t give up. The next clue is in the gazebo.”

  “Then we are ahead of the game,” Jillian said brightly and took a step toward the gazebo. Pain shot up her leg and she would have fallen again if Sam hadn’t grasped her about the waist. Before she knew what was happening, he swept her into his arms and marched toward the gazebo and settled her down on the bench.

  Mrs. Chetwey rushed forward. “What pains you?”

  “My left ankle,” Jillian answered between clenched teeth.

  Mrs. Chetwey reached for the hem of her skirt. “May I?”

  Jillian nodded.

  “Turn your backs, gentlemen.”

  They did and Mrs. Trent knelt beside Mrs. Chetwey. She folded her skirts above her knee then lifted Jillian’s left foot. With each movement she winced with pain. “You need to stay off of this for a bit.”

  “I can’t,” Jillian protested. “What of the hunt? We all need to stay together.”

  “I think an injury is an exception to the rule,” Sam insisted. “I’ll take Lady Jillian back to the picnic area and explain while the rest of you continue.”

  Mrs. Chetwey frowned. “I’d feel better if she rested first, with her ankle propped somehow, before you carry her back.”

  “That’s it then. We’re done.” Mrs. Trent settled on one of the benches.

  “No. You must continue,” Jillian insisted. She’d feel horrible if they had to forfeit because she managed to injure herself.

  “We can’t leave you alone, or alone with Mr. Storm.”

  “They won’t be alone long,” Mr. Trent insisted. “Others will eventually come this way, and Lady Jillian is injured.”

  “I can call out warnings to watch their step while the four of you continue and win.” Samuel grinned. “But, you must promise to share the prize.”

  “Blake, find me some small logs.” Mrs. Chetwey smoothed Jillian’s skirts back over the lower portion of her legs. “Mr. Trent and Mr. Storm, perhaps you should clear the dead leaves from the rest of the path so others are not injured.”

  She turned back to Jillian. “Once I return home, I’ll have a poultice delivered. You should apply it before you go to sleep and keep your ankle propped up.”

  Jillian nodded. “Thank you.”

  “In a few days, you should be able to move about.”

  She didn’t mind being incapacitated for a few days, but she also wouldn’t be able to visit with Samuel. Her father would never allow him to call on her. This was both a blessing and a curse.

  Mr. Chetwey returned with a few small logs. Mrs. Chetwey selected one and then instructed Jillian to recline on the bench with her back against a post. It wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as she anticipated. Mrs. Chetwey then asked for
Samuel’s jacket, which he shrugged out of and handed to her. She folded it gently, laid it on the log then slid it under Jillian’s ankle. “You should remain like this for half an hour, if you can, and then Mr. Storm can carry you back to the gardens.”

  “Mr. Storm, you should sit over there,” Mrs. Trent pointed to the spot furthest from Jillian. “There is no reason to call Lady Jillian’s reputation into question because she’s been injured.”

  Jillian’s face heated. At one time she would have used this very opportunity to land the husband her father had chosen. She hadn’t wanted any of them. Not really. However, to be ruined by Mr. Storm would not be such a bad thing.

  “I promise to behave in the most gentlemanly fashion,” Samuel said as he settled in the spot Mrs. Trent had pointed to.

  “Now, where are we off to?” Mr. Chetwey asked.

  “I believe the barn,” answered Mr. Trent, and before long, Jillian and Samuel were left quite alone in the gazebo, simply looking at each other.

  “I’m sorry you have to miss out on the fun. I don’t mind if you wish to join them.”

  “I am exactly where I wish to be, with the lady I wish to be with.”

  “You hardly know me,” Jillian said as her cheeks heated.

  “But I want to know everything.”

  Pain stabbed at her heart. Once he knew everything, he’d never spend another moment in her company. “No. You don’t. I am an awful person.”

  Samuel frowned. “I find that impossible to believe.”

  “Trust me. I am.” As much as she wanted a pleasurable Season with a gentleman she enjoyed spending time with and rebelling against her father, it was unfair to Samuel. He was only attracted to her because of a painting and knew nothing about her. Hadn’t he noticed that nobody spoke with her earlier? Didn’t he find it odd that all the other guests were friendly, except with her? Well, other than his sister, but she was simply curious.

  “Why don’t you tell me about yourself, and then let me decide if you are truly so horrible.”

  Tears stung her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away. She didn’t want to tell him anything, but he had a right to know before he wasted any further time with her. “I’ll begin with the portrait. You must be curious.” She would start with the first of her foolishness and once he heard, he’d surely turn away from her, and then she wouldn’t have to tell him about the worst of her behavior.

  Samuel leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest as he stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to be as comfortable with herself as Samuel was with himself.

  “Yes,” he admitted. “I’ve wondered how it is possible the daughter of a duke came to pose in such a manner.”

  Her face was on fire. “I will tell you, but you must watch for others. I will tell you but no one else.”

  His face sobered and he nodded.

  Jillian took a deep breath. “I was sixteen when it started and seventeen when the last of them were completed,” she began.

  “Last of them?”

  Jillian shook her head to dismiss the question, not wanting to get ahead of herself. “My maid, who I thought was my friend, suggested I have a portrait done as a surprise for my father.” Jillian smiled sadly. “She’d been my maid since I was a girl and was only a few years older than I. She was my only playmate and I trusted her. I also thought it a grand idea since I was always trying to find a way to win my father’s approval.” The smile slipped. “She took me to an artist she knew.”

  Jillian couldn’t look at Samuel any longer. She didn’t want to see sympathy or disgust or any other reaction he may have to her foolishness.

  “At first she remained in the room with us, but as the sittings became more frequent, she would leave us alone. I had no idea how many sittings were necessary for a portrait,” she laughed bitterly. “Nico seduced me with words and made me believe he had fallen in love with me.” She quickly glanced at Samuel. “He did not physically seduce me,” she insisted. “But he might as well have.”

  “Do watch your step, Broadridge,” Samuel called out and Jillian quit talking. Even though her brother knew what had occurred, he would not appreciate her telling anyone else and she certainly didn’t want the others in his group to hear either.

  Henry stepped into the gazebo. He looked from Jillian to Storm and back. “Why aren’t you with your group?” he demanded.

  “Your sister turned her ankle, and Mrs. Chetwey insisted she sit with it raised for half an hour before returning.”

  “What would Mrs. Chetwey know of injuries?” Broadridge asked, something Jillian hadn’t even questioned.

  “She’s a healer of sorts,” Lord Patrick Delaney said. “She’s often helped the ill and injured near Marisdùn when the doctor is not available. If she says Lady Jillian should rest, then she should.”

  Henry frowned further. “Then I shall remain with you.”

  “And forfeit?” Jillian asked. “It’s a hurt ankle. Mr. Storm is a gentlemen and has remained far away from be. Besides, anyone could come across us at any time.”

  Henry studied them and she could tell he was trying to decide whether to stay or leave. “A word, Mr. Storm?” Henry nodded to a place beyond the gazebo.

  Chapter 13

  Sam followed Broadridge into the woods, further away from the others. He wasn’t sure what to expect.

  “What are your intentions toward my sister?” Broadridge demanded.

  “Intentions?” Should he tell Broadridge the truth or keep his own confidence?

  “I’d have to be blind not to notice that you’ve taken an interest in Jillian.”

  If he had, who else had? Was Eldridge aware? If he had an inkling as to Sam’s feelings, he’d lock Jillian far away from him. “If you must know, I am quite taken with your sister and wish to court her.”

  Broadridge frowned which didn’t bode well for Sam’s future.

  “You know my father will never approve.”

  “That fact was made quite clear to my great-uncle Danby.”

  Broadridge paced away while Sam remained rooted where he was. “I’m afraid that because you apparently own a certain painting, you might believe my sister to be something she is not.”

  “I am well aware she is a lady. Until I met her, I wasn’t sure, but I am now.”

  Broadridge nodded. “Do not judge her on actions of when she was six and ten.”

  “I’d never judge anyone because of the foolishness of youth, and I hope nobody would judge me on some of the decisions I made in the past.” Not that he’d heard the entire story, but it was clear Jillian had been taken advantage of. He almost felt guilty for owning one of those portraits and having taken great pleasure in looking upon it. Especially since she’d only been sixteen at the time, even though she looked older.

  Broadridge stopped pacing and stared at him. “I don’t wish for my sister to be hurt. She’s had to deal with enough from our father. If she develops a tendré for you, which I believe she has, and you reject her in the end, it could very well devastate her.”

  “I have no intention of hurting Lady Jillian. I’ve come to care for her.” It was more than caring, but Sam wasn’t exactly comfortable confessing the depth of his feelings to anyone. He wasn’t even sure he trusted them. He’d just met her. It could be no more than an infatuation that had been building for four years.

  “Yet, you don’t really know her,” Broadridge pointed out.

  Why were they so concerned that he’d find something disagreeable about Jillian? Sam couldn’t imagine she’d done anything so terrible that he’d wish to dismiss her from his life.

  “I’d like the opportunity to know her, but we are not given a chance because your father will not allow it.”

  Broadridge frowned again. “I will allow the two of you to come to know each other on one condition.”

  Was her brother really going to be of assistance? “Which is?”

  “If the time comes that you no longer wish to be a
ssociated with my sister, please do not do so in a manner that would break her heart. Let her make the decision not to associate with you so that she can save face.”

  Jillian wished she could hear what Henry was staying to Samuel. Their expressions bespoke of a serious conversation, and her stomach knotted. As difficult as it was to tell Samuel what a dreadful person she really was, she needed to tell him, and the sooner the better, before he wasted any more time with her. Hopefully Henry wouldn’t send him on his way and decide to sit with her.

  The two men returned to the gazebo and Samuel resumed his seat.

  “Do you know where we are off to?” Henry asked the rest of his group.

  “I believe it’s the stables,” Lord Brachton suggested.

  Jillian just grinned. One group was going to the stables and another to the barn, making her wonder which was correct. Not that it mattered to her. She’d much rather sit with Samuel than run about the estate looking for clues. Even if their conversation would be painful. At least to her.

  As the group left, Samuel turned to her.

  “What did my brother say to you?” She had to know because it was eating at her.

  “I promised not to ruin you.” He grinned.

  Her gut told her it was more, but Jillian didn’t press.

  “You were telling me about this artist,” Samuel prompted and Jillian sighed.

  “Nico Bianchi. I am not even sure that was his real name any longer, but he affected the Italian accent well enough.”

  Samuel nodded.

  “Eventually, Nico convinced me he wished to have portraits that only he would see and could gaze upon until we could be together. In my naivety, I believed him and allowed more and more of my clothing to disappear.” She had to look away. Humiliation engulfed her. “Then, one day my maid disappeared. I’d turned seventeen two months earlier and was anxious to surprise my father with the portrait before I embarked on my first season.” Her gut tightened as if it was yesterday. “I was to have another sitting, but my maid had run off. As it had been a week since I had seen Nico, I couldn’t wait for my maid to return, so I took a hackney to his studio.”