“I can’t do it. He’s—” She stopped suddenly. She had started to say that Lord Wimberly was Adam’s good friend, but she wondered if it might be a mistake to reveal that information.
He wasn’t listening to her, anyway. “You promised me, Catherine. Our bargain was that you keep your daughter if you provide me with a male child. I’ve not changed my mind.”
“I don’t know how to go about this!”
“You’ll think of something. Hurry now and dress. He’s staying for supper.” He smiled then. “It will be your job to see he stays the night.”
“I’m not wearing one of those hideous gowns.”
The baron waved his hand at her. “As you will. You know, though,” he said, smirking at her as he prepared to leave, “a little bosom would not be out of order.”
“Oh!” she screamed. She rushed forward and kicked at the door as it closed behind him. There might have been some pleasure in venting her temper, but the baby decided to be disturbed by the ruckus and began to holler as well. And worse, she could hear Edgar’s delighted laughter as he made his way down the corridor.
“My poor darling, what an inconsiderate mother you have.”
Catherine moved to the cradle and, lifting the babe into her arms, gazed into the tiny face. The infant looked back at her through Adam’s blue eyes, and a lump of emotion lodged in her throat. She felt guilty for having brought this child into an uncertain world, yet her love for this little person was so intense, she could not find room for regret.
She shook her head in resignation. Edgar was at it again. But Lord Wimberly, why had he come? She tried to control the excitement that seized her when she thought of what this could mean. Perhaps he had news of Lord Ashworth. Perhaps Adam no longer hated her and the viscount had come to let her know. That seemed a remote possibility, but she could think of no logical reason why Lord Wimberly would call on her.
The baby had calmed and was sucking on one dimpled fist.
“I suppose this is your way of telling me it’s time to eat. Come on then.” Catherine entered the hall in search of the nursemaid.
*****
“Lord Wimberly, what brings you to our little corner of the realm?” Catherine entered the shabby parlor and extended her hand.
Daniel, alone in the room, rose from his chair. He was sipping on a glass of port.
“As I explained to your husband, I was in the vicinity and thought I would stop in and say hello. It was on impulse. I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you.”
“We have so little company it’s a welcome break from the monotony. It’s a pleasure to see you. You bring good news of all our friends?”
From the look on Lord Wimberly’s face, she suspected he knew about whom she actually inquired.
“Everyone does well, and yourself?” he returned.
“I go on,” she said—a vague reply, carefully noncommittal.
“I see. Is your husband to join us this evening?”
“He was called away unexpectedly, and I’m not certain when he will return. I hope you are not disappointed.”
He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised, and Catherine felt her face burn with embarrassment.
“On the contrary,” he said gallantly. “I shall enjoy the company of a lovely lady. It will give us a chance to catch up on all the latest gossip.”
“I would like that.”
They proceeded to the dining table and a substantial if unremarkable meal was served. The viscount kept his promise to reveal all the news. Catherine enjoyed the telling, for he stressed the humorous in his stories, but his words were never unkind. As the dessert plates were removed, they returned to the parlor to partake of tea and more congenial conversation.
Catherine glanced up as she took a seat on the settee next to Lord Wimberly, and she saw Willy lurking in the hall outside the parlor door. She felt a fissure of alarm quickly followed by indignation.
“Willy,” she called to the servant.
“My lady?” The servant moved into the room.
“I would like you to close the door and go about your duties.”
“Yes, my lady.” He started to leave.
“Willy.”
He stopped and looked at her again.
“I will be unhappy if I find you have been trying to listen in. I do not want to be spied on, is that clear? I’m capable of telling my husband what he wants to know. I have my own informers if you choose to ignore me.”
Willy stared at her for a moment as though weighing her words, then shifted his regard to Lord Wimberly. The viscount viewed him without expression save for an impassive watchfulness. Willy looked at his mistress again before lowering his gaze.
“I will see you are not disturbed, my lady,” he said and withdrew, pulling the door shut behind him.
An uncomfortable silence followed his departure. Catherine had brought a sticky problem out into the open—not something she had wanted to do. But what choice did she have? Edgar expected her to woo the viscount, however, she had no intention of carrying out his demands with Willy’s salacious ear plastered to the keyhole.
Daniel was the first to speak. “You do not trust that man?”
“He’s Edgar’s servant, not mine. I don’t care for him. The feeling is mutual.”
She was not thinking about what she said, for her mind was occupied with the frightful prospect of trying to seduce her guest. She had played the “come-hither” game with Adam, but she had been powerfully attracted to him, and her effort was more instinctual than calculating.
The viscount proved another matter entirely. Not that he wasn’t handsome. He was. And he appealed to her with his kind, gentle nature and genuine concern for others. Given a different set of circumstances, she might have been tempted. Still, Daniel was the earl’s closest friend and it did not seem right.
Unfortunately, she must give it a go. She peeked through her lashes at the viscount and smiled prettily. “Let’s not talk about that awful man. There are so many more interesting things we could discuss,” she purred.
Lord Wimberly’s jaw fell open and his eyes glazed over. He swallowed several times, clearing his throat. “I say, I’m not certain what you mean.”
Whether she was encouraged by his confusion or simply had a need to get on with it, she couldn’t decide, but suddenly she turned her face to his and kissed him directly on the lips.
The deed was clumsily done, but Lord Wimberly must have found the contact pleasant enough, for after a moment’s hesitation, he drew her into his arms and took the initiative. For several moments he held her captive then leaned away from her, clearly taking her measure.
His breathing was ragged as he gazed at her. Evidently satisfied with what he saw, Daniel moved to take her mouth again and, as he did, peered into her eyes. He pulled back as though someone had dashed cold water in his face.
“Why?” he whispered in a pained voice. “You don’t want to, I can see it. So why?”
Catherine felt her cheeks burn with mortification. Her lip began to tremble and she took it between her teeth.
“I can only imagine what you must think of me.” She stared down at her hands, too shamed to look at him.
“I think you one of the loveliest women I’ve ever met,” he said, and he sounded as if he meant what he said. “I admit you’ve taken me by surprise.”
“I knew it wouldn’t work. I’m no good at this sort of thing.”
“You’re very good at it, my dear.” His tone was rueful in acknowledgment of his recent weakness.
She did not answer, continuing to watch her fidgeting fingers.
Daniel leaned his head down and looked her directly in the face. “I know we are only casual acquaintances, and you might not feel you can trust me, but I would like to help if it is in my power.”
“It’s hopeless—no one can help.” She shook her head as she raised her gaze to his.
“Wouldn’t you at least like to speak of it? I would be happy to listen if that is all you require. S
ometimes unburdening one’s soul can be a tremendous relief.”
To her horror she began to cry. The kindness in Lord Wimberly’s voice unleashed a torrent of tears, and despite her best effort she could not stem the flow. The gentleman took her in his arms, his manner brotherly now, and he spoke in a soothing monotone until her weeping was reduced to a few watery hiccoughs.
“I’ve ruined the front of your coat,” Catherine lamented as she pulled away from him and surveyed the damage.
“Never lost a coat to a better cause.” He smiled and sat back, plainly waiting.
“It’s Edgar—always has been, right from the start.” She swallowed. “It’s such a long story. Are you certain you want to hear it?”
“I would be honored if you would confide in me, my lady.”
Why she should trust him, she did not know. Perhaps she wanted his understanding. She had no idea what Adam had said about her, but Daniel didn’t seem suspicious of her conduct, and that gave her hope. The opportunity to talk to someone was irresistible, and she found herself pouring out years of suppressed anguish. He listened wordlessly, without judgment, until the clock had traveled through most of the night.
The couple emerged from the seclusion of the parlor just as the gray of dawn lit up the shadows.
“Come with me,” she said. “I have someone I would like you to meet.”
Catherine took the viscount by the hand and led him to the staircase. They attained the second floor landing and, putting an index finger to her lips to signal the need for quiet, she pulled him to a little room at the end of the hall. A plump nursemaid dozed in an overstuffed chair in one corner of the nursery, and she jumped as they entered.
“My lady, you surprised me,” the nursemaid whispered, coming to her feet. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“No, Mary, I want to show Lord Wimberly our little darling. Please, give us a moment.”
“Aye, my lady, I’ll be close if you need me.”
Catherine nodded absently and turned to the crib that occupied one wall. Daniel peered over her shoulder as she looked down into the small bed at the tiny person who lay nestled there. A great pair of shining blue eyes stared back at them in the semidarkness, and the baroness smiled in pleasure.
“Why you little scamp, I was certain you’d be asleep,” Catherine said in hushed tones, and she reached into the crib and plucked the warm, sweet-smelling infant from the blankets. “Since you’re awake, come and meet our guest. Lord Wimberly, I would like to introduce you to my daughter, Annabelle.”
“Charmed, I’m sure.”
Daniel clicked his heels together and bowed slightly, and after a moment’s hesitation, the baby rewarded him with a toothless, dimpled grin. The viscount beamed hugely in return.
He sobered then and turned his gaze on the child’s mother. “She has her father’s coloring—his eyes for certain.”
“Yes,” Catherine said after a moment.
Even if she had not said that Annabelle was Adam’s child, how could Daniel not be aware of it? The evidence was right in front of him.
“He has the right to know of her existence, Catherine. You do him a grave injustice to leave him ignorant.”
For the first time, she noted censure in his voice. “Why do you think he would want to know? If he were to care, it would only make him miserable. And to be honest, I don’t think he would care. He hates me, you see.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” he stated impatiently. “He’s angry and rightly so. You’ve not let him make his own decision.”
“Lady Ashworth told me it would be the kindest thing not to give him a choice.”
“You spoke with Adam’s mother?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Did she know there was a child?”
Catherine nodded. “I think that’s what upset her most. She called the baby a bastard.” She swallowed.
“My God!” He shook his head. “No wonder you gave up. She’s a formidable old witch when she wants her way.”
“I still think it would be best not to burden Adam with all this—after all, what can he do when all is said and done?”
“Perhaps nothing, but he is a grown man, and I believe he should be given the facts.”
She turned from him and placed the baby in the crib. “I don’t know what to tell Edgar,” she said over her shoulder.
He looked confused. “About what? Oh, you mean regarding our tete-a-tete of this evening? You tell him all went swimmingly.”
“Do you really think I should?” She straightened and faced him again.
“Absolutely. Don’t give it a second thought—self-protection and all that.”
She shrugged. “It only grants me a little time. The snare is loosened for awhile, but it doesn’t release me.”
He took her by the shoulders as he searched her features in the growing light. “I’ll not desert you, I promise. I will come back. We’ll keep the pretense up as long as we can, and then we’ll think of something else. You must not give up hope. It is your most unswerving ally.”
Catherine felt the ever-present tears sting her eyes. “Why would you do this for me?”
“Because the man who is like a brother to me is in love with you, and I know he would want me to help. And,” he admitted in a wry voice, “I think I’m a bit in love with you myself.”
Taken aback, she could think of nothing to say.
“No need to worry.” He grinned engagingly. “Adam and I always did have the same taste in women. You take care now, do you hear?” He dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I will not forget, trust me.”
And then he was gone.
*****
CHAPTER 11
Daniel did not sleep after he left Catherine. As the sun came over the horizon, he slipped from the castle and headed for the stables. He was grateful that he didn’t have to bid his host farewell for, he was so repulsed by all he had seen and heard, he did not know if he could be civil to the man. Daniel consoled himself with the hope that his furtive departure would lend credence to the suggestion that Catherine and he had commenced an affair.
He stepped into the murky stable and signaled his horse with a short, sharp whistle. The animal whinnied nearby. Within moments the horse was saddled and, grasping the reins in one hand, Daniel strode out of the building.
“Lord Wimberly?”
Daniel jerked his head up and his gaze lit on an elderly man who stood a few feet away. “Yes—who wants to know?”
“I’m Brown, my lord, Lord Bourgeault’s groom.”
“What can I do for you, Brown?”
“Word came from the house that you paid my lady a visit yesterday.”
Daniel eyed the man curiously. “This is true.”
“Do you wish my lady well?”
“Of course, I do.”
“I would ask that you take a message to the Earl of Ashworth. He said he would help if ever I feared for my lady’s safety. Do you know of him?”
“She’s in danger?” Daniel asked in sudden alarm, ignoring the man’s question.
The groom took a moment to answer. “The master, he’s strange in the head. Most times he seems right enough, other times I’m not so sure. He’s been having ‘spells’ of late.”
“Spells? Explain.”
“Starts with drinking, actually. He works himself into a state and can’t be reasoned with. And then he turns on her.”
“Lady Bourgeault?”
Brown nodded. “He’s mighty jealous of her. I’m afraid one day he’s going to hurt her and the babe.”
“I thought the baron had an affliction which kept him from getting physical.”
The groom snorted in disgust. “It don’t take nothing to pick up a poker or hurl an object, my lord.”
“You make a good point,” Daniel admitted. “I do know Lord Ashworth, and I intend to see him. I also sense a threat to your mistress, and if the earl does not come I will return. I’ve no intention of allowing anything to happen to Lady Bourgeault.”
The hour was advanced when the viscount reached London. For the second night he had gone without rest, but worry kept him from seeking the comfort of his bed. He turned his horse in the direction of Berkeley Square.
Ames answered the door and, though he obviously had been sleeping, his usual unperturbed dignity was firmly in place.
“Lord Wimberly, it is good to see you,” the butler greeted, his affection unmistakable after long years of association.
“How do, Ames? I’m sorry to barge in so late, but I really must see your master. Is he in?”
“His lordship usually does not arrive home until daylight. Perhaps he came home earlier and I was unaware. Make yourself comfortable in the library, and I will see if he has returned.”
Daniel wandered down the hall. Upon entering the library, he spied the brandy decanter resting on a mahogany table next to the sofa. He poured himself a measure. Probably a mistake considering his extreme fatigue, but he was wound as tight as a spring and needed to relax. He took a big slurp, and the alcohol burned a trail all the way to his unsuspecting stomach. It was an amazingly fine feeling, and he sighed with pleasure.
“Lord Ashworth has not yet arrived, my lord.”
The viscount turned to the butler who had reappeared in the doorway. “I’ll wait,” he said in resignation.
“I will direct him to you when he arrives.”
Daniel waved him away. “Go back to bed, man. I’ll listen for him myself. I apologize for disturbing your sleep.”
Daniel made himself to home in an old leather chair, clearly kept for its comfort and not its beauty, in preparation for how ever long it might take. The brandy made the inevitable interlude tolerable. Three glasses of the fine liquor found him slumbering, his snores echoing about the empty corridors of the bottom floor of the mansion.
*****
“My God! It sounds as though a herd of cattle has decided to make its way through my house. No wonder you’re not married yet—no woman could sleep with that racket.”
“I say…what?” Lord Wimberly sat up, shocked from the peace of sleep. He shook his head, obviously trying to clear a lingering grogginess, and stared bleary-eyed at the intruder.
In the Garden of Temptation Page 22