Rakehell's Widow by Sandra Heath Read Free Book Online Page A

pink.” His hazel eyes moved to Jillian, the ad miration plain. “It’s Lady Jillian, is it not?”
    Jillian’s glance was haughty, but it changed abruptly as Piers reined in next to him. The hauteur melted from her eyes and her lips parted—Alabeth could not tell whether it was with alarm or excitement—and she sat forward, her fingers toying nervously with the strings of her reticule. “Good afternoon, Sir Piers, how good it is to see you again.”
    Piers nodded. “Good afternoon, Lady Jillian. Chats worth, was it not?”
    She flushed a little. “How flattering that you should remember.”
    “It would be impossible to forget so lovely a face.”
    Charles continued to stare at Jillian, almost as if he had never before set eyes on such a vision of loveliness, but his admiration went unrewarded, for Jillian all but ignored him. When Alabeth struggled to effect an introduction, Jillian’s acknowledgment was cursory, barely within the bounds of good manners.
    Piers looked at Alabeth, his gray eyes almost lazy. “Good afternoon, Lady Alabeth.”
    “Sir.” Her back was stiff and straight and she did not look at him. This was dreadful, her first excursion from the house and straightaway she encountered this man.
    Charles cleared his throat, obviously a little out by Jillian’s lack of interest. “When did you arrive in Town, Alabeth? I called yesterday, but you had not arrived and Lady Jillian was, regrettably, out calling upon Lady Sil chester.”
    Jillian was still looking at Piers with that strange unease which Alabeth had detected so swiftly; she did not even seem to hear Charles speaking. Alabeth felt a little distracted herself, wondering what lay behind Jillian’s reac tion and being more than a little dismayed at realizing that Jillian and Piers were acquainted. She smiled nervously at Charles. “I—er, I arrived yesterday evening. I knew you had called, for I found your card. You must come to dinner, I’m giving a party next Thursday—”
    “I’d be honored.” He smiled at her.
    Jillian spoke hurriedly. “Please come, too, Sir Piers.”
    Alabeth’s heart sank, for the last thing she wanted was Piers Castleton as her dinner guest, but she was saved from such embarrassment, for he declined the invitation. “I fear that I am otherwise engaged that evening, Lady Jillian.”
    “Oh. I—I did not think you were in England, Sir Piers. Were you not going to tour Europe?”
    “I believe this peace will be too transitory for any such undertaking to be wise.”
    Her large eyes searched his dark face for a moment before being lowered, still with that air of flusterment which caused Alabeth more and more unease as the moments passed. There was no mistaking the fact that Jillian was affected by Piers Castleton, no mistaking it at all, for she could not have made it more obvious had she shouted it aloud. Alabeth could not tell anything from Piers’ face, but everything about Jillian reminded her of the Captain Francis affair the previous summer; the same bubbling excitement, the same shining eyes, and the same general air of agitation. Alabeth’s heart sank lower and lower, for the dreadful possibility was that Jillian had transferred her affections to Piers.
    To her relief, at that moment another carriage ap proached from behind and was unable to pass, so she told her coachman to drive on and Charles and Piers rode off across the park, Jillian watching until they vanished from sight. Alabeth said nothing, for to have mentioned any thing now would be to certainly provoke another disagree able argument, but inwardly she was most disquieted by the whole incident. Jillian’s attitude suggested an interest which went beyond a single meeting at Chatsworth—but why had her father not mentioned the fact that Jillian was acquainted with Piers? Alabeth stared blindly ahead, her mind racing. Could this be what the Earl was keeping from her? Could an undesirable liaison between Piers Castleton and Jillian have been