Page 13 of Jillian’s Wild Heart (Ladies of Munro #4)
J illian completed the short journey from Munro House to Oakwoods, the Bradford estate, with her usual wide-eyed optimism.
It was a pretty route, circling around the city rather than passing through it.
The properties they passed were large, their drives long and winding, the homes deceptively small in the distance or hidden behind an avenue of trees.
She drank it all in—the afternoon sultry with heat, the kaleidoscope of autumn colors donning the trees and shifting steadily to the earth below.
Her borrowed lady’s maid saw none of it, the rhythmic motion of the carriage having lulled Ingsley to sleep.
Jilly did not mind. As far as she was concerned, the viscount and viscountess could have given the poor thing the afternoon off.
But propriety had demanded a suitable companion for the ride, especially now that she was betrothed to a gentleman. So, Jilly let her sleep.
As Jilly’s eyes cast over the passing views of fields and sheep and crows on fenceposts, her thoughts replayed the contents of her mother’s letter.
It had arrived while Ingsley had been doing her hair and Jillian had been free to read it while the lady’s maid had fussed over her.
Her parents had been surprised at her news, which Jillian thought odd as she had been singing the praises of dear Lewis for months now and they had admitted numerous times that he sounded wonderful.
Had they never considered that a match was possible, even likely?
At least they had not tried to talk her out of it, which made for a refreshing change.
Instead, they were delighted that the wedding should take place so close to home.
Travel was expensive, and her father would have struggled to take time away from his work at Trenton Grange to attend her nuptials if they had been planned for Munro.
There was more to the letter, and Jillian was excited to share it all with Lewis when she saw him.
Not long now, for already, the carriage had turned from the road onto a private drive, passing a pond with ducks and a small bridge that offered a good spot from which to fish.
Had Lewis and his brother played here as children?
Somehow, Jillian found it hard to imagine.
It sounded far too pleasurable an activity for a nobleman’s son.
More likely, there had been lessons in fencing and archery and—even duller—in Latin and mathematics.
At least Lewis had put his Latin to good use as a barrister.
As for the rest, Jilly did not understand why young boys should be tortured thus.
Her own brothers had learned to read but also a multitude of other worthwhile skills and had still found time to just have fun.
This was how she intended to raise her own sons.
A bit of geography and an afternoon of three-legged races or hide-and-seek.
An hour of astronomy and a night sleeping under the summer stars to see their studies come to life.
Their scholarly exploits would not suffer, but she would see to it that they were given the chance to live life to the fullest.
With that thought in mind, she finally laid eyes on the great house.
She hadn’t known what to expect, but this was certainly not it.
It was a monstrous thing, all ancient, gray stone in a hulking block.
No romantic ivy. No classical statues adorning tall columns as with Munro House.
Even the gardens were mostly lawn and hedges, with a pavilion off to the side and what looked like an herb wheel around a plain, circular fountain.
The flowerbeds had not been planned as her father would have done—with varieties that bloomed at different times so that they displayed from early spring to late autumn.
The plants looked spent. They had done their duty and would offer nothing further until the frost had withdrawn next April.
Oakwoods was not a cheerful sort of place.
It spoke of function and little else besides.
The carriage rolled to a halt and the sleeping maid awoke with a start. She tried to orient herself, her bewilderment touching a chord of pity within Jillian.
“Take yourself round to the kitchen for a plate of something hearty,” Jillian told her. “Your services will not be required until I leave. Some lively chatter with other folk is just what you need.” She looked up at the foreboding building. “That is, if chatter is allowed in a place like this.”
Jillian made a mental note to keep a tight rein on her own tendency to talk too much.
She had developed this unfortunate habit since visiting Munro, where her internal discomfort had often produced a relentless stream of one-sided conversation.
This home did not seem to invite any type of excess, not even in a display of wealth.
Perhaps when Miss Sangford became the lady of the house in years to come, she would put a more ostentatious stamp upon the dreary landscape.
The great door swung open, and Lewis descended the stairs with an enthusiastic pace.
By now, the footman had lowered the step of the carriage and opened its door, but it was Lewis who reached in and drew Jillian out with a steady hand.
The footman did the same for Jilly’s maid, after which the two servants were both quite forgotten.
“Welcome to my home,” said Lewis. “Quite the eyesore, isn’t it? Do not be discouraged. This property is a reflection of my parents and not myself. Our home shall be a great deal humbler and have considerably more heart.”
“I have every faith it will be so,” Jillian said, tucking her hand around his arm. “How can it be otherwise when our love will be its heartbeat?”
Lewis lifted her other hand to his lips, pressing his mouth slowly to her skin. The touch rippled up through her arm and she leaned more closely against him. His bicep tensed to support her, and she was impressed with the power it radiated. It was masculine and attractive and…
“You must not do such things when I am trying to maintain my equilibrium,” she scolded him unconvincingly.
“I must be my most serene self, a picture of grace and decorum. It will not do if I am blushing every time you look at me. I will quite forget which is the salad fork and prove myself the country bumpkin your parents are expecting.”
Lewis drew her hand to his chest. “You have nothing to fear. My parents may be stuck in their ways, but it is not them you are marrying. Whatever foolishness might escape their lips, you must remember that. You are my own sweet love, and soon you will be Mrs. Bradford. They will resist the idea at first, but experience tells me they will relent.”
“Do you mean as they did with your sister?”
“Exactly. There were years of nagging, even the occasional threat. But now they just grumble under their breath. They can be noisy about their opinions, but they really are quite harmless. Just be yourself. They will come to love you. It is impossible not to.”
Lewis kissed her hand again, lingering a little longer this time, so that she hastily withdrew her fingers before she should lose herself entirely to the moment.
As far as she was concerned, there were simply too many weeks until the wedding.
She could hardly wait to have all of Lewis all to herself.
To follow such aching thoughts with a formal dinner seemed a rare punishment, indeed.
Up the steps they went, past the butler, who offered her tepid greetings, through the foyer—which was empty, save for a suit of armor that quite possibly had belonged to an ancestor—and on toward the drawing room.
There were three very well-dressed people waiting, one smiling broadly as Jillian entered and rising to greet her warmly, the other two looking at each other, their mouths squeezed into disappointed moues, before both stood reluctantly. Had they hoped she might not come?
Jilly had no time to ponder this thought, for Miss Bradford had taken her other arm and led her to her parents, who barely bothered to rearrange their expressions into something more welcoming.
“Mother, Father, Miss Jillian Kinsey has come. Miss Kinsey, our parents, Lord and Lady Bradford.” Miss Bradford patted Jilly’s arm. “Excellent. Introductions are done.” She eyed the bell ribbon and said impatiently, “Now can we eat? I’m starving!”
Lady Bradford watched as Jillian attempted one of her curtseys.
Ellena always said Jillian looked like a drunk duck.
Her friend had marveled that someone so young and fit could not manage to control her limbs for this simple task.
Jillian wobbled a little, doubled her concentration, and managed to finish with more flourish than clownishness.
Lady Bradford sucked her tongue on the roof of her mouth and heaved a sigh before giving a small nod in acknowledgement.
Lord Bradford stood, unmoving, his hands upon a cane that Jilly could well believe had been used to prod people into compliance as much as it had assisted him in walking.
“You may ring for Giles and tell them we are ready,” Lady Bradford told her daughter.
Miss Bradford did so, then returned to her position beside Jillian while the rest of the room was marked by awkward silence. Lewis had grown momentarily mute. But his sister stepped in to lighten the mood.
“Was it a comfortable ride to us, Miss Kinsey? Great improvements have been made upon the roads recently. I daresay your experience was better than it would have been even a year ago, when we were tortured by holes in the road, and loose stone clattered up under the poor horses’ bellies.
We must have had at least three misadventures with carriage wheels before the viscount took it upon himself to have the matter sorted.
He’s a good sort. Really cares about Munro. Better than most politicians, really.”