In the Garden of Temptation

by Cynthia Wicklund

  Then she disappeared like a wraith into the darkness surrounding the house.

  *****

  The Earl of Ashworth lay in his borrowed bed and stared at the cracked ceiling overhead. Awake for some time, he had no desire to rise. A single cobweb dangling in a far corner of the room had consumed much of his attention as he muddled through the events of yesterday. He had fallen in love and behaved like a blackguard, all in the span of twenty-four short hours. How he had come to such a sorry state was beyond him.

  The love part still confused him. Maybe infatuation was a better word. Yet something had turned his psyche into knots, and if not love, what then? All right, a beautiful woman had much to do with his mental state. But he had known many beautiful women in his adult life, and he had never before called his sanity into question.

  The worst part of this imbroglio stemmed from his inability to control his baser self. He was appalled that he could depart so far from the fundamental tenets that molded his life. And if he admitted the truth, he wished nothing more than to commit the same unthinkable act that had recently led him astray.

  Even as he castigated himself for his unchivalrous behavior, his body tensed with desire for the lady. Adam had gone to bed in a state of pronounced frustration, and an uneasy night’s sleep had only served to make matters worse.

  He groaned as he sat up and swung his feet to the floor. Sitting on the side of the bed, he willed himself to stand and prepare for his departure. He wanted to deny his reluctance was related to anything but a poor night’s rest, but an arousing vision of the baroness, naked to the waist in the moonlight, played havoc with his imagination.

  Damn! He shook his head to clear his brain and ran his fingers through the thick waves that had fallen onto his brow. Best of all, he mused ironically, he still had the baron to face.

  Adam might have felt better about himself if he suffered some guilt over having made a cuckold of his host, but his conscience refused to cooperate. The baron did not deserve to call Catherine his wife, and rather than contrition, the earl was grappling with anger over the inequity of her situation.

  She deserved better, much better. Adam had actually pondered the likelihood of freeing Catherine from her marital prison. Hours of mental finagling as the night crept by had served only to discourage his ambition. Divorce was out of the question, for the baroness would be a societal pariah if she became involved in anything that unsavory.

  What is it about human nature that, when faced with the inevitable, insists on forestalling fate? he wondered. Catherine was bound to another, and unless her husband expired—now there was a cheery thought—she would remain in that union. No amount of compromise or pleading or threats would alter that fact.

  Yet as the earl finished his morning ablutions and packed his few belongings, he continued to argue for the possibilities. That there weren’t any did not deter him. It seemed an impossibility that the one woman for whom he had acquired an overwhelming passion would always be beyond his reach.

  Adam wished Catherine had not exiled herself to her room during his departure. Perhaps they could have stolen a few moments together. And if not, he would at least have had the pleasure of seeing her lovely face while he ate his breakfast. Instead he had the not-so-pleasant task of keeping the baron company for the first meal of the day. His hunger disintegrated at the thought.

  When Adam reached the dining room, the baron occupied his usual position at the table, but apparently he had finished eating. He sipped on what looked like a watered brandy.

  “Ashworth, I’d given up hope you meant to join me.”

  “Morning,” Adam said on his way to the sideboard. “To be honest, I didn’t sleep as well as expected.”

  “I trust it wasn’t the accommodations.”

  There was a nasty edge in the baron’s voice, and Adam turned to look at him.

  “I may be late this morning, Bourgeault, but it’s still too early for innuendo. If you have something you wish to say to me then please do so.”

  A pregnant pause ensued as the baron studied his guest over the rim of his glass. “Didn’t mean to suggest anything in particular. Just hoped your lack of sleep did not have a specific cause that could be attributed to me or,” he paused, then continued in a sly voice, “possibly my wife.”

  Adam knew this much—the baron was suggesting something, and he sensed the man was enticing him into making a misstep. He would have paid a pretty penny to discover Bourgeault’s game, but he suspected getting his host to open up would be like trying to extract a back tooth from a wild boar—best not to bother for it can’t be done.

  “Your wife has been a gracious hostess as I’m sure you know. You, on the other hand—you’ll forgive me if I don’t mince words—are one of a kind.”

  Bourgeault grinned. “I will assume your words are a tribute to my uniqueness,” he said congenially.

  The baron did have one remarkable quality, Adam thought. He could take an insult better than most. The earl chuckled as he commenced to eat.

  Silence permeated the dining hall, the only sound disturbing the quiet being the clink of Adam’s fork against his plate as he finished his meal. He glanced up to see the baron eyeing him pensively.

  The earl raised his eyebrows in question. “Do you have something you wish to discuss with me?” he asked innocently.

  Bourgeault leaned forward and placed his empty glass on the table in front of him. He was irritated if the twitching muscle in his right cheek was any indication.

  “Did you not lead me to believe, Ashworth, that by this morning you would make a decision regarding my livestock?” His voice was tight despite an obvious effort to remain at ease.

  “Yes, I did,” Adam concurred.

  “Well?”

  “Bourgeault, let me give you a piece of advice. Take those ponies off the action block or you are going to lose them. Some fool will come along who must have them regardless of the price, and you’ll be honor bound to sell. They are that beautiful and I am tempted to tell my good sense to go to hell. Today you are in luck. No matter how much I desire those horses, I cannot bring myself to pay your price.”

  The baron’s shoulders slumped in relief, but his next words were belligerent. “You still insist I didn’t wish to sell?”

  “I am certain of it.”

  “Has my wife said something to lead you to this conclusion?”

  An odd inflection colored the baron’s voice, putting every nerve in Adam’s body on alert. A blunder here could prove costly, if not for himself then certainly for Catherine.

  “Really, sir, Lady Bourgeault and I talked only of mundane matters. After all, we’ve only just met. There would be little reason for us to discuss the complicated issue of what motivates her husband.”

  Adam hoped he conveyed an attitude of nonchalance. Just how much had his host guessed?

  “Ashworth, let us be perfectly clear with one another. Yesterday I allowed you to put my grays to the reins with the idea I might sell them, reluctantly, I admit.” He stopped, and his eyes narrowed as if to emphasize his next words. “Without my permission you also put my wife to the reins, symbolically speaking, of course. Make no mistake,” each word was a measured rap, “Lady Bourgeault is not for sale, either reluctantly or otherwise.”

  The earl was astounded. The man knew! Adam could deny everything, but intuition warned him to face his accuser by counter-attacking.

  “You’ll understand if I’m confused, sir. Your treatment of your wife leaves a great deal to be desired and, frankly, it appeared you simply didn’t care.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving,” the baron bit out.

  “Now that we have established my lack of understanding, I want to know how Lady Bourgeault will fare once I’m gone.”

  “I owe you no assurances.”

  “Nonetheless, I would consider it a favor if you would put my mind to rest where the baroness is concerned. I dislike the idea that I might have caused her trouble.” The words were unthreatening
enough, but the earl inserted a deadly quality to his voice that left no doubt as to the import of the request.

  As Adam saw it, the baron had a choice. Probably the man’s first inclination was to tell the earl to take his request and put it in a dark bodily place. That was the most satisfying course of action but not the wisest. Adam had power and influence and many friends. To cross the Earl of Ashworth might cost the baron more trouble than the temporary pleasure of defiance would be worth. The baron’s next words proved Adam’s theory.

  “My wife,” he said grudgingly, “will never know this conversation took place.” He sighed. “I’m not unaware of my shortcomings as a husband, and I don’t blame her for yearning after greener pastures. But fact is Catherine is still lawfully married to me. Though my attitude may seem cavalier, I can promise it is not.”

  And with that the earl had to be satisfied. Because no matter how much he wished it were otherwise, one inalterable fact remained—Catherine was this man’s wife.

  Adam took his linen napkin and dabbed his mouth. “Well then, I see no point in prolonging our adieus. It has been an interesting two days, Bourgeault. You will, I hope, send my regards to your wife.”

  Considering what the baron insisted he knew of the previous forty-eight hours, this last could be perceived as a slight. It occurred to Adam to voice regret for his conduct, but it would have been an insincere apology at best, and he found he could not bring forth the required words.

  It didn’t matter, really. The baron had apparently chosen to ignore all but the fact his guest was ready to depart. He stood and bowed slightly, though he did not offer his hand.

  “I think it’s been a learning experience for us both,” he said.

  The earl rose from his chair as well. “It didn’t go quite the way either of us planned, did it? Yet, I must say, you had a head start on me. I’ve been in the dark from the beginning.”

  “Perhaps it has never been more than it appears.”

  “Absolutely, sir. And perhaps Napoleon is secretly a spy for Mother England.” Adam laughed aloud at his own absurdity as he made his way from the dining hall. He stepped into the entry and was surprised to find his bag and coat. This good riddance gesture was not lost on him, and he shook his head in disbelief.

  “Lord, I’m glad to be leaving this place,” he muttered under his breath as he let himself out the door.

  He circled around the front of the castle to the stables in back, but his thoughts were centered on the lovely woman in an upstairs room who could not escape her oppressive existence. Whether he wished it or not, part of him would remain with her once he left.

  *****

  Edgar watched his guest leave with equal parts acrimony and relief. He slumped down in his chair and rapped out an agitated tattoo on the tabletop with his bony fingers. “Willy!” he roared. “Bring me a brandy and none of that damned watered rubbish you served earlier.”

  The servant scurried to do his master’s bidding. “My lord,” he offered timidly as he placed the decanter at the baron’s elbow.

  “Willy,” The baron said morosely, splashing a generous portion of the potent liquid in his glass, “I may have overplayed my hand.”

  “No, no, my lord,” Willy hastened. “He’s leaving, ain’t he? I mean, he can’t do no harm once he’s gone, can he?”

  The baron stared at the little man in disgust. “The only fool greater than you is I. The idiot has a conscience. Why could he not simply have done his dirty deed and left without making a fuss?” he wondered petulantly. “That’s how most men would have handled it. He actually had the temerity to challenge me.”

  He drained his goblet and smacked it against the surface of the table. The sudden impact caused the stem to snap and a sliver of glass lodged in his index finger.

  “Bloody hell!” he bellowed as he brought the wounded finger to his mouth. “What if I have to take her to town? How will I control the situation then?”

  Willy looked nonplused. “Maybe it would be best to find another bloke, one that don’t pose such a threat.”

  “Balderdash. I suppose you’re going to say one fellow will do as well as another. My wife’s developed feelings for Ashworth, and that adds a whole new element to the affair. Do you realize how long it has taken me to get this far? No,” he said in weary resignation, “I’m in too deep. I’ll just have to see this little game to its end and hope I’m not the one who ends up getting burned.”

  *****

  Adam entered the stable yard and Billy greeted him. Since the earl was carrying his bag, one could assume he was ready to depart. The obvious did not stop the young servant from posing the question anyway.

  “I say, milord, are you leaving?”

  “Yes, boy, it would seem so. Are you helping Mr. Brown today?”

  The youth nodded.

  “Could I get you to ready my horse?”

  Billy nodded again then trotted toward the barn. As Adam watched the boy retreat, his gaze lit on Brown who was leaning against the doorframe of the stable, observing the proceedings. The earl approached the groom.

  Brown straightened in the doorway, his attitude wary as the earl neared. Adam came abreast of the man and, in an unthreatening manner, placed his hands behind his back. He cleared his throat before speaking.

  “Brown, I detect considerable hostility directed toward me from you and everyone on the estate. Only young Billy there has been unaffected. I’m at a loss as to why.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” The groom’s gaze dropped as he sidestepped the question.

  “Come on, my good man. I don’t consider myself the sensitive type, but I’ve been treated with more courtesy by those who dislike me.”

  A long silence ensued while Mr. Brown seemed to ponder how to respond. However, once he made up his mind, he wasted little time getting to the point.

  “It’s my mistress. Us here at the castle, we don’t like the way she’s treated.”

  “Go on.”

  “It’s not just the baron. That smarmy little servant of his is just as bad.”

  “He is unpleasant,” the earl agreed.

  “And the baron’s always bringing these men to visit. For what purpose, I don’t know ‘cause he don’t spend time with his company. Instead, he makes my poor lady dance attendance on them. I can’t tell you how often I’ve seen the baroness purely mortified by some witless clod what thinks he’s got the right to insult her. Worst of all,” the groom said indignantly, “my master seems to encourage the whole thing.”

  “You amaze me, Brown.” Adam grinned. “You’re a veritable conversationalist when you are moved to speak.” He sobered as he continued. “It’s my understanding then that you feel Lady Bourgeault is not treated with the respect which is her due.”

  “That’s part of it,” the groom admitted.

  “And you fear I am of the same cut of cloth as those other ‘gentleman’ of whom you have good reason to disprove.”

  The man didn’t waver as he nodded his agreement.

  “Would it come as a surprise to you, Brown, to know I’ve become aware of the very things you have mentioned?” When the groom watched him without answering, Adam pressed on. “I am also concerned for your lady. The goings on here are odd, to say the least. Frankly, I don’t know why the baron invited me, but you can be damned certain it wasn’t to sell his horses.”

  The groom nodded again.

  “Brown, I would consider it a personal favor if you would look after Lady Bourgeault for me. I’m not in a position to make any demands, but if you ever feel she is in trouble I would like to be informed. I’m not without influence and I could help if it came to that.” Adam reached into his coat pocket and handed the groom his card.

  The old man hesitated, searching Adam’s face as though looking for a hidden motive. The earl tolerated the scrutiny and heaved a sigh of relief when it appeared he had passed the unspoken test.

  Brown’s features relaxed. He took the card and placed it very carefully in his s
hirt pocket. “It’s a comfort to know there is someone powerful who cares about my lady.”

  “That I do. We have a bargain then.” The earl took the groom’s gnarled mitt in a firm handshake to seal the pact.

  Moments later as Adam trotted his horse to the overgrown drive, he felt a sudden unseen pull that caused him to halt and turn in his saddle. He surveyed the facade of the crumbling castle, his eyes seeking out the invisible communication. Was she there and was her pain as profound as his? There was no future for them, and he had to come to terms with that knowledge. But for now he simply must find the strength to leave her behind.

  *****

  Catherine stood at the tiny window and watched as the earl’s horse appeared around the corner of the house. He urged the animal toward the drive but came to a stop and glanced back at the castle. He appeared to be looking for something, and she wondered if he could hear the thrumming of her lacerated heart as it called out to him. She again committed his handsome features to memory as he straightened in the saddle and continued his journey down the lane and out of her life.

  *****

  CHAPTER 5

  “Enter,” the baron called.

  The knob turned and a little maid slipped into the library. Once inside she edged back until she was pressed tight against the door, staring wide-eyed at the man behind the desk.

  Edgar surveyed the tiny person attached to the entry like a hungry leech, and his lip curled in disgust. “What’s your name?”

  “Wilma,” she answered meekly, her voice shaking.

  “Come closer, Wilma,” he barked. “I can hardly hear you.”

  Wilma advanced several reluctant steps forward.

  “Now tell me. I’m assuming you have some news regarding our talk of several days ago.”

  “Aye, milord. My lady’s rags—” She gulped as though she might be ill, her features pinched with distaste. She tried again. “My lady’s rags have appeared in the laundry.”