In the Garden of Temptation

by Cynthia Wicklund

  Lord Ashworth felt as if someone had punched him in the chest. Catherine! As he lived and breathed, he could not believe what his eyes were telling him. He never thought to see her again, and there she stood, flesh and bone.

  Daniel spoke again. “Adam, are you all right?”

  “What? Oh, I’m sorry. I…” The earl brought his confused gaze to his companion.

  “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost. Do you know that woman?”

  “Yes,” Adam said quietly. “Yes, I know her.”

  “Who is she?”

  The earl looked at his friend. “Catherine Bourgeault,” he said, an ironical twist to his mouth, “the baron’s wife.”

  “Oh…I see.” And Daniel looked as though he did see.

  “What is it you think you see?” Adam bit out as he turned and stalked from the room. The sight of all those smitten bucks fawning over his Catherine enraged him.

  “Adam, wait. I meant no offense,” the viscount said, following closely on his friend’s heels.

  The earl pushed into an unoccupied room at the back of the mansion and flung himself on a crushed velvet settee. The joints of the delicate piece of furniture creaked in protest. His elbows on knees, he put his face in his hands and tried to stop his ragged breathing. He was aware of the viscount as he appeared in the doorway.

  “Come in, Daniel,” Adam said wearily. “I suppose this remarkable display requires an explanation.”

  The viscount moved into the room. “You owe me no explanation, my friend. But I’m here to listen if you wish it.”

  “Can’t think why I reacted like that.” Adam shook his head in disbelief. “I told myself dozens of times it would not bother me. Of course, I never thought I would see her again.”

  “This woman is important to you.” It was a statement.

  The earl nodded. “Apparently, more than I knew.”

  “Are you in love with her?”

  “Lord, I don’t know.” Adam placed his face back in his hands. “I only knew her for two days.” His muffled voice came from between his fingers. “I’m certain given half a chance I could love her, no—would love her.”

  “I don’t wish to be the bearer of gloomy tidings, but your response is not one of indifference. Seems to me, if you don’t love the lady now, you’re well on your way to being caught.”

  A deep-chested groan was Adam’s only response.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Lord Ashworth raised his head and stared at some nonexistent object to the right of the viscount’s temple. “Wish I knew. I suppose the proper thing would be to avoid her altogether.”

  Daniel searched the earl’s features. “Why do I have the feeling you won’t be doing the proper thing?”

  Adam brought his gaze back to Daniel’s face but he did not speak.

  “Look,” Daniel said, “I’m aware you haven’t asked my opinion, but I can’t help thinking to pursue this woman would be a mistake. She’s married and I see nothing but pain there. If you were merely satisfying a temporary attraction, well…”

  “I know you are right, but I don’t think I’m strong enough to resist.”

  “It’s easier now before it has gone too far.”

  Suddenly, Adam could not meet his friend’s intuitive gaze.

  “My God, man, what were you thinking?” Daniel burst forth. “If the baron caught wind of this there could be trouble. From all I’ve heard he’s an ugly customer.”

  “That’s the oddest part of this mess,” the earl said slowly. “I think he knew. I think he knew and approved in some twisted way. It really worried me to leave Catherine with him, but I had no choice.”

  “I’m not even going to try and understand that,” Daniel muttered. “What of the lady? How does she feel?”

  “She’s confused as I am. At least, I assume she is. It’s been several weeks. Maybe she’s forgotten about me.” With that wretched thought he came to his feet, impelled to act. “I have to talk to her. I’m going to wade through that ridiculous sea of drooling manhood and rescue her. She looked disconcerted by all the commotion.”

  He exited the room and moved with newfound purpose down the hall, his friend once again left to follow.

  “I don’t see her, Daniel,” Adam said as he once more surveyed the crowded parlor.

  “Calm yourself. We’ll find her,” the viscount said. “I’ll check the card room—you look in the dining room.”

  The two men parted. Within minutes it became clear that the young woman was nowhere to be found.

  “She left the party, Adam,” Daniel said.

  “How do you know?”

  “I asked.”

  “Damnation!”

  “Lady Bourgeault is in the company of Charlotte Richards,” Daniel continued, “and they decided to make an appearance at Lady Applewhite’s card party. The word is every man not encumbered by a female is now on his way to that affair.”

  “I sent my regrets to Lady Applewhite nearly a fortnight ago.”

  “Come now,” the viscount quipped, “since when is a disgustingly rich, titled bachelor not welcome at the home of a society dame, invitation or no?”

  “I’ll have to see my parent has an escort home,” the earl said eagerly. “I saw Lord Hedgewick earlier in the card room. He’s been trying to convince Mother to end her widowed status, but thus far she has refused him. Poor man doesn’t realize when he’s well off.” He shook his head as he went in search of the elderly, obviously deluded Lord Hedgewick.

  That necessary detail completed—not without a disagreement from the dowager that nearly scotched the plan—Adam and Daniel collected their hats and canes and called for the carriage.

  “Only one thing bothers me,” Lord Ashworth said reflectively while they waited on the walk for their transportation.

  “What’s that?” Daniel inquired.

  “I feel like one of a large flock of sheep headed for the nearest cliff.”

  “Perhaps that is your intuition telling you to reconsider,” the viscount suggested in a careful voice.

  “It hardly matters, my friend. Regardless of the danger, she’s worth it.”

  *****

  CHAPTER 6

  She had seen him, she knew she had. Catherine’s hands trembled uncontrollably, and she clasped them together to hide the evidence of her shaken composure. It was only a glimpse of the back of his head. But still, she’d been so certain.

  The baroness searched the crowd, hoping she might again spot the earl, but he seemed to have vanished. Oh, cruelest of thoughts, perhaps he had seen her first and decided to withdraw before there arose a need for them to meet. The stab of pain that met that theory caused her to feel ill.

  Lady Richards approached her moments later, and they prepared to leave. “I promised Lady Applewhite we would appear at her card party,” Charlotte said.

  Catherine followed, all the while glancing over her shoulder. She must have made a mistake, she thought. Wishful thinking had conjured his image.

  She spoke little during the ride to Lady Applewhite’s party. Charlotte did not press her, and for that Catherine was grateful as she suspected her altered mood was evident.

  Shortly, the ladies found themselves standing in another parlor surrounded by another mob of men. And oddly, many of them were the same fellows who had hounded Catherine in Lady Mortimer’s home. In fact, the door chime had rung nonstop since the ladies’ arrival, and now the parlor overflowed with guests from the musicale. One look at her flustered hostess confirmed Catherine’s suspicion that these latecomers were not expected.

  “My, my,” Lady Richards teased, “it would seem you’ve acquired an entourage.”

  “It isn’t funny, Charlotte. Lady Applewhite looks upset. I hope she doesn’t regret having invited me.”

  “Oh, silly. Most of the intruders are eligible bachelors. When she begins to realize her good fortune, she’ll be grateful to you for deigning to attend.”

  Catherine eyed her companion doubtfully.


  At that precise moment, the door chime rang out again and, for reasons Catherine did not fully understand, her breathing froze. She watched paralyzed as the butler reached for the knob and pulled the door open.

  *****

  The earl rang the chime at the Applewhite residence, and Daniel and he were met by a sober-faced butler. “I would like to speak with your mistress,” Adam said.

  Lady Applewhite approached them at that moment, a radiant smile of welcome on her lips. “Lord Ashworth! Lord Wimberly! How wonderful. Do come in.”

  “Are you certain, madam?” the earl asked. “I realize we are not expected.”

  “An unexpected pleasure, I assure you, my lord.” His hostess simpered at him as she slipped her arm through his and drew him into the parlor. “I was disappointed when I received your letter of regret. I’m pleased you changed your mind.”

  Adam felt Catherine’s presence before he saw her, and his heart began to thud as he became aware of her nearness. He raised his head and, turning to his left, pinned her with a look. She was staring at him in open fascination. If the expression on her face indicated her interest, he need not worry that she had forgotten him or would dismiss him out of hand.

  He was close enough to observe the throbbing of a tiny pulse in her throat, a physical clue to the agitation she must be feeling, and he moved instinctively toward her. He became aware of a warning hand on his arm, and he glanced at the viscount.

  “Be careful,” Daniel cautioned under his breath. “People will remark. You’ll be doing her harm if she becomes the focus of rumors.”

  The earl hesitated. The one thing he did not want to do was hurt her. She was an obvious success, and he had to admit that jealously tempted him to act rashly. But then how did he approach her discreetly?

  Fortunately, fate decided to give Adam a helping hand. Sashaying in elegant self-confidence toward Adam was none other than the honorable Sir Sidney Alcott.

  “Sidney, my good man, how do you do?”

  The dandy stopped abruptly, and his eyes widened. “Ashworth, I do well. Yourself?”

  “Better if I could find some kind soul who would introduce me to that incredible creature over there.” Adam cocked his head in Catherine’s direction.

  “You and every other man in the room,” Sidney said dryly.

  “You don’t know her then?” The earl felt deflated.

  “Matter of fact, I do.” The dandy gave him an assessing look. “I could help if you like.”

  “Would you?” Adam boomed eagerly. He clapped Sir Sidney on the shoulder with such force, the little man staggered.

  Adam and Sidney drew abreast of the gathering around the baroness and stood to her right, waiting for her to recognize them. The earl did not mind the delay. He watched Catherine, intrigued with her every move. What a perfect countess she would have made him. That thought caused a poignant ache to rise in his chest.

  When she at last turned to meet the newcomers, she focused her gaze on Sidney. Adam suspected the focus of her awareness was another matter altogether.

  “Sir Sidney, what a delight to see you again this evening,” she said in a tone that indicated she and the little man were on very friendly terms.

  Sidney blushed a bright pink. Several silent moments brought a nudge in the ribs from the impatient earl.

  “Oh, oh…y-yes, Lady Bourgeault,” the dandy stammered, “I should like to introduce you to the Earl of Ashworth.”

  Catherine raised her gray eyes to the gentleman standing behind Sidney and, if she were in some way moved by seeing him, her expression did not reflect it.

  “It is a pleasure, my lord,” she stated simply and gave the earl her hand.

  Without taking his attention from her face, he brought his lips to her fingertips. “The pleasure is mine,” he murmured.

  As his mouth touched the satiny surface of her hand, Adam was drenched in a warm bath of erotic memories. For a brief second the encroaching party disappeared, and they were all alone. The arrested expression in her eyes left no doubt that she also was remembering. The color rose in her cheeks.

  Someone nearby coughed tactfully—Sir Sidney?—bringing their shared reverie to an end. The earl was startled as he dropped her hand, for it was unlike him to forget his surroundings.

  “I’m pleased to meet you at last.” His tone was brisk as he fought to regain his composure. “You’ve taken London by storm.”

  “There are daily storms, my lord. I am a cloudburst that will quickly disappear.”

  “Unpretentious—what a ladylike quality.”

  She raised one delicate brow at him. “One would expect nothing less in a lady, now would one?”

  He chuckled. “Do you attend the Farthington ball tomorrow evening?”

  Catherine glanced at Lady Richards. “Charlotte…?”

  Charlotte, who stood nearby, wearing a watchful expression, merely nodded.

  Adam was elated, but outwardly he kept his manner droll. “I hope you will save me a dance, Lady Bourgeault. I would like the opportunity to lead you out before your brilliant star dims.”

  “Rogue.” Catherine’s lips twitched. “I shall try to make room on my dance card for one more.”

  Aware their conversation was most likely being noted for possible retelling by those within hearing distance, Adam thought it best to withdraw.

  “I shall count the moments until we meet again.”

  For those listening, his words were the insincere mouthings of the socially adept, but he meant what he said. Bowing slightly, he retired from the group. He strode across the room to Lord Wimberly and, after a brief exchange, the two gentlemen left the party.

  *****

  If Lord Ashworth hoped his tactics had been subtle, the question Lady Richards posed to Catherine as the women watched him retreat showed his efforts had failed.

  “Do you know Lord Ashworth?” Charlotte inquired in a careful voice. The crowd had dissipated briefly, and they were able to converse privately.

  Catherine hated to lie. “Why do you ask?”

  Charlotte, evidently acknowledging the evasion, changed her approach. “It’s a coup that Lord Ashworth made an effort to be introduced to you. He is elusive when it comes to the ladies.”

  “Is he?” Though secretly pleased, Catherine responded neutrally.

  “Absolutely. I don’t have to tell you how handsome he is, but he’s also ridiculously wealthy. He has frustrated the hopes of more debutantes than I have hairs on my head. I admit I was one of them,” Lady Richards said with a smile. Here she paused as she gave Catherine a curious look. “He’s also careful regarding the married ladies.”

  The baroness had nothing intelligent to say. She knew what her friend was asking, but how should she respond?—My yes, Lord Ashworth and I spent one marvelous afternoon in a wooded glen defying all that is rightfully moral, and I would do it again and again given the opportunity. Though the utter truth, she could hardly admit this to anyone, even the kindly Lady Richards.

  “It is very noble of him to respect the institution of marriage,” Catherine managed weakly.

  The conversation had reached the point of being uncomfortable, and she sighed with relief at the approach of two swaggering young lords.

  *****

  “Be honest with me, Edna. Is the lack of color too youthful?” Catherine glanced uncertainly at her reflection as she surveyed herself in the looking glass.

  “White is most often chosen for unmarried girls, but the style of your dress is not too young.”

  “I hope so. Tonight is special.”

  The gown was a strikingly simple one of white silk with a Grecian influence. The fabric crisscrossed the bodice, and bright gold trim enhanced the outline of the bosom. A train, secured by golden clasps at the shoulders, dusted the floor and completed the effect.

  Catherine’s hair was piled high on her head, and a shiny gold ribbon threaded the soft curls. The result was at once both charming and sophisticated.

  “I th
ink you look dashing, my lady.”

  “But it is not the usual style. I should be wearing lace and bows.”

  Edna smiled at her mistress. “Ladies who set fashion wear what looks good. That’s not always the usual style.”

  Catherine sighed. “You’re right, of course. I suppose I’ll just have to risk appearing different.”

  She left the suite and made her way downstairs to wait for Lady Richards. An unpleasant surprise met her as she entered the parlor. Her inebriated spouse lounged in one of the fancy Chippendale chairs. She halted in the doorway.

  “Edgar—” she blurted. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

  “What’s the matter, wife? Trying to avoid me?” He had been drinking heavily, as his words were slurred and his attitude belligerent.

  “Don’t be silly. You’re usually not here by this time in the evening, that’s all.”

  Grasping the chair arm heavily, the baron rose from his seat, teetering to and fro. On uncertain feet he crossed the room to where she stood, coming to a stop not a nose-length from her face. The stench of brandy overwhelmed her.

  “I wanted to see you all dressed up in your finery, love.” He leaned closer and his bloodshot gaze took on a keenness that belied the drink. “You look good enough to eat,” he said, breathing on her.

  Catherine’s stomach cramped. She knew her features reflected her distaste, for his expression turned even nastier.

  The baron brought his index finger to the swell of her breast, never quite contacting the soft skin. At first, she thought his action was an attempt to disconcert her, however, the sudden pain that entered his eyes told a different story. She realized he wished to touch her, tried to touch her, but could not bring himself to do so. Sweat beaded his upper lip as his effort intensified. How long they stood thus she could only later wonder, for the episode seemed interminable.

  He dropped his hand then and withdrew from her. “Get out!” he rasped. “Now!”

  His voice came in a low-pitched growl, and Catherine recoiled in alarm. She gathered her skirts and dashed toward the front door, refusing to look back. Fortunately, Lady Richard’s carriage could be heard arriving in the street below.