In the Garden of Temptation

by Cynthia Wicklund

  “I did plead with her for your interests, but nothing more. What of the baron? Do you deem him innocent in all this?”

  “I want his wife!” he yelled. “He has provocation for wishing me ill. What is your excuse?”

  The dowager, too stricken to speak, took her napkin and dabbed at the corners of her mouth as she fought for command of her emotions. A proud woman, she was unused to having to defend herself in so humiliating a fashion.

  “I love you,” she said, feeling as if it were a confession. “I wish only what is best for you, can’t you see?”

  “You want me to fill a prescribed mold, one to your exact specifications. Not once have you asked me what I want.”

  “It’s not me. I’m sorry you were born with obligations you detest, but they are yours, nonetheless. You head a large family that looks to you for direction. What of them?”

  “Mother, I cannot think of a single individual who could not survive without me leading the way. But Catherine needs me and, I might add, so does my daughter.” His eyes glinted menacingly. “Did you call my child bastard?”

  She believed it a testament to her courage that she did not crumple on the spot. Squaring her shoulders, she looked her son directly in the face and boldly met the question.

  “She is the offspring of parents who are not married to one another. The term is correct.”

  “Indeed?” he asked in an awful voice. “It also indicates a careless attitude. What do you think? I litter the countryside with my illegitimate children just for the pleasure of it? My child was made in love, and I want her as I want her mother.”

  “But Adam…” The countess fairly wrung her hands. “How can it be?”

  “I’m going to convince the baron to divorce his wife.”

  She gasped aloud. “She will never be received anywhere, and your lot will not be much better than hers.”

  “Be that as it may, I intend to marry Catherine and legitimize my daughter if it is the last thing I do. And be forewarned, Mother, I will brook no more interference. If I so much as catch a breath of your scheming, I’ll send you to the dower house at Ashworth Hall, and you’ll never see another sunrise in your beloved London. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, Adam,” she returned stoically, “I understand that you are hell-bent on destroying yourself, and there is little I can do to stop you. So be it.”

  Adam pushed back his chair and rose from the table. “Remember, Mother, love cannot stifle nor can it dictate. Either of those circumstances will turn a tender feeling into something ugly. We have much to overcome, you and I. It is an altogether good thing we have a lifetime to work on it.”

  Lady Ashworth waited until the brisk footsteps of her only son died away into the depths of the quiet mansion before continuing to sip her tea. If her bottom lip trembled ever so slightly as she lifted the cup to her mouth, who was to see?

  *****

  Adam brought his mount to a halt on a small rise as he took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the panoramic scene before him. He had been on Lord Eddington’s estate for the better part of an hour, and only now had the main house come into view. Trimmed hedges and a neatly clipped lawn surrounded a lovely Georgian manor home dating from early in the previous century.

  The structure appeared to be undergoing an extensive renovation, for there was a flurry of activity on the grounds as busy workmen bustled to and fro. Scaffolding clung to the outer wall of the east wing to expedite repairs on the brick of the second and third stories, and liberal doses of paint were being applied to all the external woodwork.

  The earl kicked his horse and descended the slope, entering the front yard by way of the drive. Dismounting, he handed the reins of his horse to a young boy who appeared, seemingly from nowhere. Adam approached the entrance.

  An ancient butler, bent nearly double with age, opened the door. “Now then, whom do we have here?” he fairly shouted as he gawked blindly at the caller.

  Adam hid a smile as he handed the man his card. “I would like to speak with your master.”

  The servant squinted at the card, moving it up and down in a clear effort to find that one precise place where his cloudy vision still focused. He must have succeeded for he gave a satisfied grunt and allowed the visitor to enter.

  “Wait here,” he said cordially though continuing to speak in a very loud voice.

  Adam stepped into the hall, and the smell of paint filled his nostrils. Obviously, the repair work was not restricted to outside the structure. He glanced around the entry and was surprised by the lack of furnishings. No pictures graced the walls, and a hole gaped in the ceiling over his head where once a chandelier had hung. Odd for an established household to discard everything when starting anew.

  Adam had only a brief wait. The butler returned, ushering him into the study. As in the entry, everywhere Adam looked the house had been stripped bare. The study did contain a few pieces of shabby furniture, including a much-abused desk, but aside from that there was nothing, nothing at all.

  A muffled footstep brought the earl’s head around, and he looked into a face so like Catherine’s, he gawked in amazement.

  “Good Lord, you do resemble your sister.” The words were blurted before he could stop himself.

  A tall, blonde man approached the earl, his handsome features alight with interest. He offered a firm handshake.

  “You must be referring to Catherine. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Ashworth. I’m Jeffery Traynor, Catherine’s brother. Please, have a seat.” He indicated a chair facing the desk. “Would you care for some refreshment?”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. I apologize for dropping in without warning, but a problem arose rather suddenly and it necessitated immediate action.”

  Jeffery nodded agreeably as he settled his slim frame into the chair behind the desk. “I hope it is nothing serious?”

  “I’ll let you be the judge of that,” Adam hedged. “To be frank, it’s a delicate matter and you may wish to put a gun to my head after I’ve told you everything.”

  “Your words are not reassuring, sir,” Jeffery said, looking doubtful. “Perhaps you had best explain.”

  Adam, now in the position of having to do that, felt awkward. This young man might feel honor bound to avenge the corruption of his sister. Of course, that was not how Adam perceived the situation, but then he was not looking from the perspective of an outraged brother.

  “I’m here because of Catherine.”

  “Yes?” was all Jeffery said, but his attitude became discernibly cooler.

  “This is harder than I thought it would be.” Adam shifted in his seat then leaned forward, hoping his expression conveyed his sincerity. “I’m in love with Catherine,” he blurted.

  “Are you, by God!”

  Now that he had gone this far, the earl continued before his courage failed him. “I believe she leads an unhappy life with an unstable husband and would be better served if I took her away from that wretched existence.” When Jeffery did not answer, Adam rushed on. “I’m not asking, mind. I’m going to do this thing with or without your consent. But I thought I ought to let Catherine’s family know what my plans are.”

  “Can you do it quietly?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It would be nice if you could minimize the scandal, although,” Jeffery said as he shrugged, “I’ve learned there are worse things than a few wagging tongues.”

  The earl brightened hopefully. “Do I understand you correctly? You will not oppose me?”

  “I’ve spent eight of the longest years of my life regretting that I did not step forward and do something to prevent my sister from sacrificing herself to that man. If there is the slightest chance she could find happiness, I will not stand in her way.”

  “What of your father? I had been told he was instrumental in forcing the marriage in the first place.”

  “We buried my father three weeks ago,” Jeffery said without emotion. “He can no longer influence our l
ives.”

  “I’m sorry—I had no idea.”

  The new Lord Eddington leaned back in his chair and, clasping his hands behind his head, pursed his lips before sending his guest an assessing glance. “The death of my father is a blessing. He won’t be missed, sad to say. Look about this house. Do you see anything odd?”

  “It’s being redone, it appears,” Adam said slowly.

  “But there is nothing in it.” Jeffery’s voice rose as he stated the obvious. “My father sold everything he could lay his hands on, everything—pictures, furniture, family heirlooms, all gone. When he ran out of things to sell, he sold my sister.”

  “I was aware Lord Bourgeault paid a marriage settlement.”

  “Yes, a monstrous sum,” Jeffery agreed. “That’s gone as well. Fortunately, my mother had her own monies which she left to me, or I would have to sell my home instead of restoring it.”

  “Have you kept in contact with Catherine?”

  “I’ve tried repeatedly, but the baron has isolated her from anyone who might have influence over her.”

  “So you are not aware of how things are with her?”

  Lord Eddington shook his head. “I would be grateful if you would tell me.”

  “Several weeks ago Catherine made you an uncle.”

  Jeffery beamed. “By Jove, that’s jolly good news!”

  “The child is mine,” Adam announced baldly.

  The smile slipped from Jeffery’s face. “This relationship has progressed beyond the bounds of propriety. Catherine cares as strongly for you as you do for her?”

  “Last year she told me she loved me. I’ve not seen her in months, but I have been assured by someone who has spoken to her recently that her feelings have not changed.”

  “Does she know you are coming for her?”

  “As far as I know, she is unsuspecting,” Adam said.

  “Do you have a plan? Surely, you don’t propose to dash in, snatch her and the baby from the baron’s clutches and simply ride away,” Jeffery said. “It’s tempting and quite dramatic but not at all practical.”

  Adam laughed. “And put that way it sounds foolish. Actually, I had hoped to convince Lord Bourgeault to divorce Catherine—you know, infidelity and all that.”

  Jeffery breathed heavily. “There goes any hope of doing the thing quietly.”

  “What else is there?” the earl said, frustrated. “If the baron conveniently died, that would be the easiest solution. Should I smother him in his sleep?”

  Lord Eddington perked up. “Well now, I like the sound of that. I’d be happy to lend a hand if you’ve a mind to do it.”

  The two men stared at one another in silence before they both broke into amused laughter.

  “Perhaps I will take that drink.” Adam chortled as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

  “Could use a little something myself.” Jeffery reached for the brandy decanter. Having done the honors, he leaned back in his chair once more, watching the earl and sipping his brandy.

  “This has come as a shock, hasn’t it?” the earl asked.

  Jeffery did not respond at first. Finally, he said, “Since my father died, I had decided to fetch Catherine home. And frankly, I didn’t care how I accomplished it. If I thought it were best for her to stay with her husband, I would load that gun you mentioned. I might as well be honest with you—as favorable as my first impression is, I take nothing for granted. When you leave here I’ll be sending my agent to London to verify your claims. My sister has suffered enough, and I will fight the very devil himself before I’ll allow her to be hurt again.”

  Adam lifted his glass in salute to the man on the other side of the desk, and his eyes narrowed in appreciation. “I believe, Eddington, you and I will be fast friends in the years to come. For you see, we both have a goal in common. Catherine’s happiness is my ambition. Nothing else matters.”

  *****

  “It’s my best room, my lord. I hope it will do.”

  The earl looked around the tiny space and indicated his satisfaction. “This is fine. I don’t know how long I will need it, but I will pay for the next sennight. Agreed?”

  He reached into his purse and extracted the necessary coins needed to seal the bargain. The innkeeper eagerly took the money and walked through the door backwards, bowing as he went.

  Adam removed his coat and tossed it on the one chair in the room. He studied the small cot against the wall, tempted. He was weary.

  Last evening Lord Eddington had invited the earl to dinner and to stay overnight. Thus he had spent a congenial few hours getting to know the man he hoped would eventually be his brother-in-law.

  He spent a restive night and bid his host adieu after an early morning breakfast. Before leaving he gave a letter of introduction to Jeffery. “Have your agent present this wherever he goes. I promise he will be treated well, and hopefully the news he brings back will be to your satisfaction.” And then Adam had begun the grueling trip to Bath.

  Now it was late evening, and he found himself ensconced in a tiny room in a tiny inn only a few miles from the baron’s castle. As tired as he was, he was nervous, for tomorrow he would attempt to see Catherine. He still did not know how to approach the baron, and he had few illusions the man would simply step aside. They would have to prepare for the worst in the event Bourgeault chose not to grant Catherine her freedom.

  He shook his head irritably, as he didn’t want to think about that. Much more agreeable to imagine his first words with Catherine. He wanted to hold her and tell her he loved her and beg forgiveness for his lack of understanding. He wanted to see his daughter. What was her name, anyway? In all the excitement he had forgotten to ask, and now the not knowing made him daft.

  Maybe a warm meal and a tankard of ale would smooth the rough edges. He ambled down the stairs to the dining area, where more drinking than eating was going on, and proceeded to sup adequately on boiled beef and potatoes.

  “What say, gov’nor?”

  Adam glanced to his left to a nearby table and met the curious stare of a very common fellow, indeed.

  The earl grinned. “Whiling away an evening, my friend.”

  “Are you one of them gents what goes up to the castle?”

  “I intend to visit there tomorrow,” Adam said slowly.

  “You be careful, hear? The baron, he’s touched in his upper works. Somethin’ mighty wrong wif him—everybody says so.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Not rightly sure. But he’s married to an angel—most beautiful woman you ever did see. Few weeks back she made ‘im a papa—don’t nobody think it’s his.”

  “Why is that?” Adam hated the gossip, but he felt compelled to listen.

  The man shrugged. “Don’t know. Some say the devil shriveled his member.”

  “I see. Well…ah, thank you. I’ll certainly heed your warning.”

  Adam turned back to his ale, smiling to himself. Daniel was right. It wouldn’t be difficult to find individuals willing to testify against the baron. The thought was cheery enough to send him up the stairs to a good night’s sleep.

  *****

  CHAPTER 12

  The hour was just past dawn, but the light filtering through the dusty window gave promise of a glorious morning. This was Catherine’s favorite time of the day. She had taken to retiring early and rising early as the baron could be counted on to do neither of those things. This reduced the amount of time she spent in his company, and lately that had become very important.

  Edgar was on a rampage. For the first time in her marriage, she had begun to fear for her physical safety. That troubled her not nearly as much as her concern for Annabelle. Edgar’s veiled threats had become more specific, and she believed it might be necessary to spirit the baby away.

  Catherine could see a tremendous deterioration in the baron’s mental state. Perhaps his condition would stabilize if he would stop drinking, but that seemed unlikely. Two nights prior he’d had a frightful fit, trembling fr
om head to foot and screaming about demons and the like. She knew everyone who had witnessed the scene had been horrified.

  During her pregnancy Edgar had shown more restraint, going out of his way to appear congenial and solicitous. If he drank to excess, he spared her the results of his overindulgence. The birth of Annabelle had changed all that. Catherine hated to admit it, for she loved her child dearly, but it would have been far easier had the baby been born a boy.

  The baron’s temperamental outbursts had been frequent over the last weeks, but the situation had not come to a head until the appearance of Lord Wimberly a few days earlier. Catherine had done as Daniel had advised and lied to her husband. Foolishly, she had thought Edgar would be pleased.

  Again, just as when he had confronted her about her affair with Adam, she sensed his outrage. He demanded she take a lover, and then despised her for doing that very thing. She suspected he was of two very different minds—determined to accomplish his goal, but in an agony of despair over what he must give up to reach it. She could almost have pitied him if he had not made her the recipient of his misplaced anger.

  She thought of Daniel’s kindness to her. She hoped he meant what he said when he promised to come back, for she was hoping Lord Wimberly would help her if she decided to leave. She hardly dared wonder if he had spoken to Adam. She had asked him not to, but the viscount had made no promises.

  Having completed her ablutions, Catherine stepped into the corridor. Her first order of business this morning and every morning was a visit to her daughter. Knowing that child resided in the nursery at the end of the hall brought her a joy almost painful in its intensity. A dreamy smile spread across her face in anticipation.

  “Dear wife, where are you going this bright and early day?”

  Catherine groaned inwardly. Edgar stood at the door to his chamber, a wearing a sloppy grin. Drunk. Why was he awake? He look horrible, his eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, and a strong odor emanated from his filthy body. She knew he was wearing the same clothing he had worn for days. She wished she could walk past him and pretend he did not exist.