As much as she might detest Lady Ashworth, Catherine knew the woman was right. Adam must not be allowed to toss everything away on a momentary obsession. Not that she mistrusted the integrity of his feelings, for she knew the earl loved her. But he would love again and more rightly.
“I promise only to think about it,” she said, struggling to regain her composure, too proud to allow the countess more.
“You do that, Lady Bourgeault.” On her way from the room, Lady Ashworth brushed past Catherine, leaving a faint scent of lavender soap. She paused at the door and turned. “Let us hope for all our sakes you have the moral fiber needed to make the correct decision. Good day to you, madam.”
Long after the countess had departed, Catherine stared at the spot where the woman had stood in the doorway. Her mind was awash in conflicting emotions, not the least of which was grief. Already she had put her fledgling hopes for a brighter future to rest. Now she saw it as simply a matter of going through the motions until all the threads could be sewn up right and tight. Oh, she dreaded having to tell Adam they must part. The real challenge would be forcing him to accept the inevitable.
“My lady, I’m so glad I’ve found you. I’ve been searching for you everywhere.” Edna rushed into the room, obviously relieved at having found her mistress. She stopped abruptly as she caught sight of the baroness’ face. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Catherine lied. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you, also.”
“My lady,” the little servant wailed, “I heard you ring for me, and I tried to answer your summons, I swear, but Mr. Gant was in the corridor and would not let me pass. Said something about the master’s orders. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s nothing to worry about,” Catherine reassured her. “I wanted you to take a message to Lord Ashworth.”
“I can do it now. Where is it?”
“It’s a verbal message. Tell Lord Ashworth I need to see him at our place as soon as possible.”
“Wouldn’t you rather I speak to his man, my lady?”
“It doesn’t matter. Go to the door and ask for the earl. If he’s not there you may speak with his servant.”
Edna looked surprised by this lack of intrigue.
The baroness smiled gently. “Discretion is no longer important,” she said in a weary voice.
“Oh…” was all Edna said. And then, “Are you certain you are all right?”
“Yes, yes, please just go,” Catherine said impatiently as she pressed the maid to leave.
Another lie that, for she would never be all right again.
*****
“My lord, may I have a word with you?”
“Of course, Ames. Come in.”
Lord Ashworth stood before the mirror in his bedchamber as he shaved the shadow of his course, dark beard. He had only recently returned home and was busy making preparations for the evening ahead.
“There is a gentleman in the foyer who would like to speak with you.”
“Who is it?” the earl asked without much interest.
He took the corner of the towel hanging around his neck and dabbed at the excess shaving soap still clinging to his chin. Pity he had to go through this routine twice a day if he were to stay clean-shaven, he thought. He glanced in the mirror at the butler, his eyebrows raised in question.
“It is the man who attended your mother’s ball last spring without an invitation.”
Adam swung around. “Lord Bourgeault?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Damn! What is he doing here?” The earl began to scrub the soap from his face in earnest.
“I don’t know, my lord, but this is his second visit today.”
“He must be determined to see me.”
“Actually, he requested a meeting with your mother when he was here earlier.”
“Really?” Adam asked, surprised. “Did she receive him?”
“She did.”
“You wouldn’t know what it was about, would you?”
“He said something about averting a disaster.”
“Put him in the study, Ames. I’ll be down as soon as I can get dressed.”
The earl was uneasy about this new turn of events. He considered it a bold move for the baron to appear on the Ashworth doorstep although probably not out of character. Up till now Lord Bourgeault had not interfered in Adam’s relationship with Catherine. He wondered if the baron’s benign neglect was about to come to an end.
Ten minutes found Lord Ashworth entering his study. He walked briskly across the room to confront his guest.
“Bourgeault,” he greeted tersely, “what can I do for you?”
“I do like speech with you, Ashworth.” The baron’s tone was snide. “You never make me sashay through the niceties before getting down to business. So refreshing.”
“And you, sir, can be counted on to bog down the conversation in sarcasm,” the earl countered. “I have a feeling this meeting will be unpleasant. What say we get on with it?”
“As you wish.” The baron ran his thumb and index finger along the corners of his mouth as he watched the earl. “I’m taking my wife home in a few days.”
A tense quiet filled the room. “And…?” Adam’s voice sliced the silence like a whip.
“I do not want you to interfere.”
“What makes you think I would try to stop you?”
“Come now.” The baron sounded exasperated. “I thought we had decided to make a clean breast of it. We both know what this is about, so don’t play the fool.”
“Why don’t you elaborate, Bourgeault?” Adam was content to hold his cards.
The baron’s eyes narrowed to steely slits. “You are having an affair with my wife that began months ago when you visited my home.” He paused, his attitude dramatic. “I invited you there for that very purpose.”
The earl went rigid with shock. “You goddamn bastard! What the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s not that hard to understand, really,” the baron murmured in silky accents. “My wife and I have had trouble conceiving. I thought a younger man might prove to be more, ah…shall we say, potent.”
“You said you wanted to sell me your horses,” the earl ground out in disbelief.
“Yes, well, it was a ruse, I admit it.” The baron shrugged as if it were an unimportant detail. “You never really believed it anyway, did you?”
“Why would you do such a thing?” Adam asked, appalled.
“I need a son to inherit. Not such an unusual thing if you give it some thought.” Lord Bourgeault sighed. “Such a pity the experiment has failed. I fear Catherine may be barren.”
“Are you saying you used me like a stud to service your wife?”
The baron grinned as though the analogy were apt. “I suppose you could put it that way.”
“How could you debase your wife in such a manner?”
“She agreed it was necessary.”
Adam advanced on the man, fists clenched in knots at his sides. “That’s a lie! I ought to break your bloody neck for such a vile accusation.”
Lord Bourgeault held his ground, but something shifted in his opaque eyes, revealing his sudden apprehension at the threat of violence.
“Do you believe I could accomplish this without her cooperation?” he asked in a rush. “Think. It would have left a great deal to chance, don’t you see?”
Adam did see and he did not like it one bit. He refused to accept that Catherine could be so coldly calculating. She loved him—he knew that to be true. This evil man merely wanted Adam to doubt her, and that wasn’t going to happen.
“You sicken me, Bourgeault,” he snarled. “Get out of my home before I have your bony carcass thrown into the street.” As a sudden thought occurred to him, he added, “And leave my mother out of your scheming or I will come after you, I swear it.”
“I’ll go but make no mistake. My wife goes with me.”
Lord Bourgeault edged toward the door and into the passageway b
eyond with the earl in angry pursuit.
“We’ll see about that, won’t we, Bourgeault?”
As the two men reached the main hall the door chime rang, echoing through the rooms on the bottom floor of the mansion. Ames appeared from the direction of the dining hall and in a dignified manner answered the summons. A tiny voice on the other side of the door asked to be directed to Lord Ashworth, if you please, and the butler permitted the person to enter.
Edna Fielding stepped across the threshold, her curious glance plainly taking in her surroundings. When she spotted her master Baron Bourgeault glowering at her from a distance of only a few feet, her expression turned to panic.
“Oh! Oh!” seemed to be all she could manage.
She lurched backward in an attempt to retreat and brought the heel of her foot down on the toe of the unfortunate butler. Ames hid his pain in a muffled grunt. He reached out to steady the maid but not quickly enough to prevent her from toppling to the floor as she staggered away from him. He was rewarded for his efforts by losing his own balance and landing in a heap next to Edna on the marbled entry.
“Bah!” Lord Bourgeault tossed his arms up and stalked to the entrance but not before throwing the earl a look full of meaning. “Hear what I say, Ashworth. Don’t stand in my way or you will have cause to regret it.” He left without bothering to close the door.
Adam stared at the two servants as they lay on the floor in limb-tangled chaos, and a sense of the ridiculous took hold of him. Probably he needed to release the suppressed tension that had him in its grip but, whatever it was, he began to howl with mirth. He backed up to the staircase and, grabbing hold of the banister, lowered himself to the bottom step where he continued to roar uncontrollably until tears gushed from between his swollen lids.
In the meantime Ames had managed to regain his feet, and he offered a hand to poor Edna. “I’m glad I could provide you with a good laugh, my lord,” he stated as he straightened his coat.
“Ames, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” Catching sight of the butler’s frosty expression, the earl burst loose with another guffaw.
“Indeed, my lord, so I gather.” And with that Ames turned with what remained of his pride and disappeared down the hall.
Adam dabbed at damp eyes with his fingertips and chortled again despite himself. Oddly, the laughter held no amusement. In fact, he felt more like weeping in despair.
“My lord?”
“What? Oh, I forgot. Miss Fielding, isn’t it?” The earl stood up as his attention came back to the maid.
“Yes, my lord,” she answered timidly.
“Did your lady send you?” he asked, swallowing down a dichotomy of feeling that threatened to overwhelm him.
“She did. She said she needed to talk to you at your place as soon as possible. She said I should come straight to the door and ask for you. I didn’t expect to see Lord Bourgeault though,” she whimpered.
“I wouldn’t worry. I suspect he hardly noticed you.”
“But he looked so angry.”
“He was angry all right, but it had nothing to do with you.” Despite his laughter of moments earlier, he now had to force a smile as he looked at her encouragingly. “You’ll have to excuse me. Thank you for bringing the message.”
He turned then and took the stairs two at a time, the little maid already forgotten.
*****
Catherine paced back and forth across the worn carpet, too nervous to sit. She wanted the earl to come, but at the same time she dreaded his arrival. If only she had been able to leave home before she had been forced to confront the countess. Now she had no choice but to face reality. So much nicer to remain blissfully ignorant.
Of course, she had only herself to blame. She should never have allowed herself to think beyond the present. Adam’s words had been so persuasive, seductive really. How could she resist the temptation to hope? The countess had certainly wasted no time giving her the bald truth. Catherine Bourgeault was not good enough for the Earl of Ashworth, not nearly, and she never would be.
In all fairness she found it difficult to blame Lady Ashworth for feeling as she did. Adam was her son and she wanted the best for him. Catherine did have a problem visualizing the dowager countess in a maternal fashion, though, for a less motherly female was hard to imagine. But the woman’s ruthlessness regarding the baby, though unsurprising given the aristocracy’s attitude toward illegitimacy, still struck her as unnatural. It was her beloved son’s child after all.
Catherine went still when she heard a key slip the lock, her heart fluttering against her ribs like a frail bird in a cage. She held her breath as the door swung open and Adam entered the apartment. He looked at her across the space that divided them. For several moments neither spoke, and Catherine sensed a hesitation that wasn’t there before.
“I missed you,” he said at last.
She smiled tentatively. “And I, you.”
“I came as soon as I received your message.”
“Thank you.” She could think of nothing else to say.
“Was it urgent?” he asked in a puzzled voice. “Your maid indicated that you wanted to see me as soon as possible. She had a terrible fright,” he continued, not waiting for her answer. “Your husband was in my foyer when she arrived, and she was so alarmed she nearly harmed herself in an effort to get away.”
Catherine blanched. “Edgar came to see you?”
“He did. I take it you were unaware of his visit.” He watched her closely.
“I had no idea he intended to see you. What did he want?”
Adam pushed the door into place, and she had the distinct impression he was stalling. He walked to where she stood by the window and took her chilled hand in his.
“Catherine, I told you I believed he knew about us. He came today to warn me off.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Not much, really. He did most of the talking.”
Still he watched her, searching her features as though he were looking for something that bothered him.
“Where does this leave us now?” she asked, for the probing expression in his eyes made her nervous.
“I don’t know, but he put forth an accusation that has troubled me.”
Uh oh…“What did he say?”
Adam clenched his teeth and a muscle in his cheek jumped. He swallowed. “According to him you and he have been trying to have a child without much success. He felt the problem might be his and thus decided to provide a surrogate in his stead. He assures me that he contrived this scheme with your complete knowledge and cooperation.”
Now she understood. This was where it all had been leading from the very start. Edgar would not be satisfied with merely separating her from the earl. He wanted to rend her relationship with Adam irrevocably. He wanted to cause a rift that left no ambiguities for future contact. In short, he wanted it ended.
Naturally, she could deny the baron’s words. She could see by the look on Adam’s face he hoped—no—expected her to do just that. He would believe her, she knew. But this was the perfect excuse and Edgar had known it all along. If she agreed with her husband there would be no lingering over what to do. Catherine understood instinctively that Adam would detest the deception and abandon the effort.
She hesitated for a fraction too long, and Adam’s brows drew together in a deep frown. “Catherine…?”
She opened her mouth then closed it again. She could not bring herself to admit that her husband was right, and yet this might be her only opportunity to truly set the earl free. Instead she settled on a half-truth.
“It only began that way…” she trailed off, the lie robbing her of speech. She could not bear for him to think she had not cared at all.
It didn’t matter, for the repulsion that transformed Adam’s features said everything. He looked appalled. Tossing her hand from him, he backed away as though he had come in contact with something wicked.
“You used me?” He barked the question.
&nbs
p; “It wasn’t like that.”
She wished desperately that she could renounce her statement, but she was in too deep. She must see this through to the bitter end for his sake.
“Then what was it like? Answer me! Explain to me how all these weeks you could profess to love me when you were simply doing your husband’s bidding. You are a damned fine actress, I’ll give you that.”
“Men do it all the time,” she said feebly, hoping somehow to explain the unexplainable.
“What is it they do, Catherine?” he bit out.
“They choose a woman for her appropriateness for bearing progeny. The aristocracy has a penchant for it.”
“I see, some men do it so all men do it? Well, there are no absolutes in life, darling, and I can tell you for a fact I don’t do it. If I’d wanted a wife to bear me children, I’d have married a long time ago. I wanted something more.” He stared at her accusingly. “I thought I’d found it.”
“Adam, I think it’s best this way.” She held out her hands to him in supplication. “I’m not right for you. You can do so much better.”
“How can you say this to me? I didn’t care about the right or wrong of it. I would have given up everything for you.”
And that, of course, was why she must send him away. It was too much for him to sacrifice.
“I wanted to marry you,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.
“I know,” she whispered brokenly.
She was undone and her resolve, a tenuous thing at best, was stretched to the breaking point. Even now she could tell him the truth and he would believe her. The temptation to do so was unbearable.
He swung from her and crossed the apartment, but he turned at the door. “It need not have been so much trouble, you know. With that face and body you’re a fancy piece, no doubt about it. I’d have been happy to oblige you without all the lies.” He turned then and slammed from the room.
A parting shot meant to wound, and if words were fatal, she would have perished on the spot. Catherine went lightheaded as she felt the blood drain from her face. She would never forgive Edgar—never.
She glanced around the tiny apartment, recently her haven and now her hell, and her eyes filled with tears. Until today she had managed to keep the baron out, but no longer. He permeated every aspect of her life, tainting her with his poison. She hated him—for the first time, she truly hated him.
In the Garden of Temptation Page 19