In the Garden of Temptation

by Cynthia Wicklund

  “Absolutely not. But I feel cheated out of this last year. I wish I’d been there for you.”

  They had both been cheated out of the wonder of starting their young family together. At least, he was here for her now, he thought, and she could take comfort in knowing she no longer had to face this thing alone.

  Catherine and Adam mounted their horses for the return journey to the castle. They had spent some time discussing how best to approach the baron but, no matter what the strategy, they could not predict how the man would react once they cornered him. The only thing of which they could be certain was that they had a fight on their hands.

  *****

  Brown beamed at the couple a short while later as they entered the stable yard and climbed down from their horses.

  “I see you found her, my lord.” Brown winked at the earl meaningfully.

  “Brown and I have been working closely together on a matter of grave importance.” Adam’s words were directed at Catherine.

  “And what might that be?” she asked.

  He grinned. “Why you, of course.”

  A soothing warmth settled around Catherine’s heart. “Thank you, Mr. Brown,” she said. “It’s good to know you have been watching over Annabelle and me. I realize now that even when I thought myself alone, I was not.”

  The old servant nodded solemnly.

  She took the earl’s arm and they proceeded around the castle to the front entrance. As they reached the step, the door was flung open. Willy Gant stood on the threshold, glowering.

  “What’s he doing here?” He pointed at the earl.

  “Lord Ashworth has come to speak to my husband, Willy. Let us pass, please.”

  “No!” Willy yelled. “You make him leave—the baron won’t talk to the likes o’ him.”

  The earl strode up to the little man and grasped him by the collar. With a strength clearly born of anger, he lifted the servant off the ground.

  “Now you listen carefully,” Adam said through gritted teeth, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I have business with your master, and you’re going to shut your trap and let me get on with it. Do you hear?”

  Willy, whose eyes had grown quite large, nodded as best he could considering the trussed up condition of his neck.

  The earl loosened his hold, and the servant dropped like a sack of grain onto the stone floor. Adam held out his hand to Catherine and guided her gingerly around the fallen man.

  “He’s still asleep,” Willy whined in a hoarse voice as he scrambled to his feet. “He may not wake for hours—maybe days.”

  “I have nothing but time,” Adam said coolly. “Come, my dear, this is a good opportunity for me to make the acquaintance of my daughter.”

  Catherine could have hooted aloud in delight. To see that nasty little beast receive his richly deserved comeuppance was more gratifying than she could have thought possible. Willy Gant had done his part to make her life miserable, and for a few guilty moments she allowed herself to wallow in the sinful pleasure of revenge.

  She led the way up the stairs, with Adam following closely behind her. They entered the nursery and the nurse, casting a surprised glance at the gentleman accompanying her mistress, quickly exited the room. Catherine reached down into the baby bed and scooped up the sleeping infant.

  “Give her to me,” the child’s sire demanded.

  The Earl of Ashworth gripped his baby daughter around her chubby middle and held her up as he studied her. Annabelle’s black-lashed lids fluttered open, revealing an enormous pair of midnight blue eyes from which she gazed at her father, tiny pink features mirroring exactly his searching attitude. Evidently satisfied the man was a benign entity, the baby stuck her fist in her mouth and burbled at him.

  Adam turned to Catherine, his expression transformed with wonder. He broke into a boyish grin. “I believe she has the look of me,” he said.

  Catherine nodded, all at once unable to speak through the emotion that tightened her throat. Somehow she had known today held something wonderful, but never could she have imagined being witness to this miraculous event. She was so overcome with thankfulness, she feared her heart would burst from her chest.

  A sound outside the room brought their heads around. Edgar stood in the doorway, and by the look of him he sported an ugly mood.

  “You’re not welcome here!” he shouted. “Get out of my house before I run you through.” He wielded a broadsword, manner threatening, although he was unsteady on his feet.

  Adam thrust his daughter at Catherine. “Stay back,” he ordered as he moved forward, stepping in front of the baby and her. To the baron he said, “I’ve merely come to talk, Bourgeault. No harm in that.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about—you trespass.”

  “All right, but you can’t expect me to leave with you standing there waving that sword in my face. I want you to back away and let me pass.”

  “You will go?”

  “Yes.”

  Edgar withdrew from the room and sidled down the hall, keeping a wary if bloodshot eye on his opponent who followed at a discreet distance. He continued to hold his sword in readiness until he came abreast of the staircase. He pointed the weapon at the stairs, his way of showing the earl how to find the front door. Crudely done but his meaning was plain.

  Adam placed his foot on the first downward step before turning to look at the baron. “You do understand, Bourgeault, this is not the end of it. I can’t allow things to go on as they have.”

  “The devil you say! Just what do you think you can do to change them?”

  “For one thing, I intend to claim my daughter.”

  “You want the brat? She’s yours,” Edgar sneered. “I have no use for her.”

  “That does put one problem to rest, I admit, but you don’t really expect me to leave Catherine with you, do you?”

  “She’s my wife!”

  Adam raised his brows as though considering the point. “I would have to differ with you on that score, Bourgeault. Any man who would call a woman wife must surely have intimate knowledge of that woman.”

  The baron froze. “What are you saying?”

  “It’s obvious isn’t it? You have never made love to your wife. You have a phobia that precludes that. Personally, I find that revelation very pleasing, but the important issue is whether or not your marriage is truly a marriage. I think it is not. I feel certain there are those who would agree with me.”

  “Catherine told you that. You cannot prove anything,” Edgar blustered.

  “Come, come, Bourgeault, I can find any number of people to testify about your problem. In addition, I will publicly swear she was untouched when I first made love to her and that in the seventh year of her marriage to you. Do you want this? I know I would prefer to do it another way.”

  Edgar did not respond at first, for he obviously dealt with a fury so intense his body began to tremble. “What do you suggest?” he asked when he seemed able to bring forth the words.

  “Divorce Catherine,” Adam said. “We can’t avoid a scandal, but you can come through it nearly unscathed if you put the blame on her—infidelity, don’t you see?”

  “Do you think I care for that? I’ve lived through talk before. I’ll live through it again.”

  The earl shrugged. “As you wish. I merely thought to spare your pride. Married to a woman most men would give their right arm to possess, and you can’t bear to touch her.” He shook his head as though he pondered the unfathomable.

  Sweat beaded on the baron’s upper lip, and undoubtedly the effort to stand had become an ordeal. “What would you know of it? Do you think I’ve not wanted her? I still have hopes.”

  “You’re too old,” Adam stated baldly. “She deserves better than an aging, impotent bastard. Do you really believe Catherine wants you to get better? She’d have to be a fool.”

  Catherine, watching from the doorway, gasped at the plain speaking, for she knew this insult was the ultimate blow to her husband’s disintegrating van
ity.

  Edgar bellowed, an expletive rolling off his tongue as he lunged forward, intent it seemed on skewering the earl on the tip of his sword. Adam jumped back up on the landing, dodging the blade and kicking his adversary’s wrist. The sword flew down the stairs.

  “By God, you’ll fight me like a man,” the earl snarled, and he advanced on the baron.

  An irrational fear contorted Edgar’s features. “Don’t touch me!” he shrieked.

  He fell back, arms flailing. The baroness, having followed the men onto the landing, could see what was to come next. But she felt helpless to intervene, for it seemed as if the world around her had slowed to a near stop and she with it. A scream rose in her throat as she saw her husband lose his balance and flip over the banister.

  The only thing keeping Edgar from falling was that he had managed to catch hold of one of the balusters in the railing. He clung with his right hand while clawing frantically with his left in an effort to grab another baluster. Even had he been successful, he would never have had the strength to pull himself up and over the banister. Adam ran to the edge of the landing and leaned over the railing.

  “Give me your hand, man!”

  The baron stopped struggling as he looked at the earl’s outstretched hand, and suddenly his gaze lost its focus. Then he exchanged a brief glance with the earl, and in that poignant moment Catherine read the message in her husband’s eyes. Below was oblivion and it beckoned, promising to provide the final relief. The cards had been played, the score tallied and someone else had won. Edgar loosened his hold and silently plunged to the ancient floor of the great hall below.

  There came a sickening thwack as flesh and bone made contact with the unyielding stone. Although a considerable drop, the fall need not have been fatal save for the unfortunate fact that the baron landed on his back. He might have forestalled that as well had he made an effort to break his fall in some way, but it seemed he had given up the fight.

  Catherine relinquished Annabelle to the nursemaid, who had materialized from the shadows, and came to stand at the head of the staircase, horrified by what had just occurred. She raced down the stairs to her husband’s side, skinning her knees as she fell to the floor beside him.

  “Edgar,” she cried, “I didn’t want this to happen.”

  She went to touch his face, and even in his agony he flinched away from her.

  “No,” he moaned.

  “Won’t you let me offer you comfort even now, Edgar?” Tears of remorse gathered at the edges of her eyes and slipped unheeded down her cheeks.

  “If I could not take a hand to save my very life, how can your touch comfort me now?” He gasped the words slowly, one at a time.

  Catherine could think of no response, for in the end his affliction would finish his wretched existence.

  An eerie rattling began in his chest, and a trickle of blood bubbled on his lip, oozing from the corner of his mouth. He turned sightless eyes on his wife, clearly aware of her although she believed he could no longer see.

  “I did love you,” he croaked faintly, his voice as frail and brittle as old tissue paper.

  Then he was gone, and with him went the demons that had plagued his so mercilessly.

  His wife put her face in her hands and wept for the pathetic person who had passed into another world. She did not love him, never had. Her grief did not stem from the loss of someone dear, but for the futility of the baron’s unnatural life. To exit this world leaving no one who cared was an utter tragedy.

  She watched as Robby and another footman removed the body, and she was overcome by the irony of the situation. Now, only in death would Edgar have the warmth of human touch, and he would never know. More’s the pity.

  *****

  Tender hands lifted Catherine from the cold floor, and she looked into Adam’s face.

  “Come, my love,” he said gently, “there’s nothing more you can do.” He whisked her up into his arms and moved to the stairs. “Where’s your lady’s room?” he asked Edna Fielding, who stood nearby.

  The maid led the way and Adam strode behind her, clutching his precious load. “Thank you,” he said in dismissal as he entered the chamber and kicked the heavy door into place.

  Adam set Catherine on her feet. The tears had ended, but she appeared to be in a state of shock. With unsteady fingers he undid the hooks on the front of her gown, easing the garment from her shoulders. She wore only a shift and he tried not to notice her shapely limbs as they came into view, for this was not the time to suggest lovemaking.

  He refrained because of her sensibilities, not his own. In Adam’s estimation, with the baron’s death they had cleared their greatest hurdle. He would have been a hypocrite to pretend otherwise, and he had no intention of doing that.

  And gone was the sense of urgency that had always accompanied their relationship. She was his now—nothing stood in his way. He would wait for a more appropriate opportunity. He still had not spoken of her father’s death, but with all that had happened this night, he could not bring himself to mention that just yet, either.

  He escorted her to the bed, and she followed without demurring as he helped her climb between the crisp, cool sheets. He supposed if he did what he ought, he would leave her to sleep. Certainly, for appearance’s sake he knew it was the thing to do, but it simply did not seem to matter. He disrobed down to his skin and joined her beneath the covers.

  Adam drew her into his arms, and she nestled her soft body into his embrace. Already Catherine slept, for he could feel the gentle, warm puffs of her even breathing on his throat. Certain this intimacy would never allow him to rest, he closed his eyes, prepared to play the martyr. Within moments he was unconscious.

  *****

  A rising cloud of dust in the distance alerted Catherine to the impending arrival of her company. She stood at the entrance to the castle, waiting for her visitor. Her stomach was knotted with apprehension, and it dropped in panic as a horse-drawn vehicle rounded the lane and came into sight. Why, oh why had Adam chosen today to talk to the magistrate? She wished he were here to help her get through this frightful meeting.

  The carriage came to a stop at the base of the walk on the circular drive, and the coachman leapt down from his perch to open the door for the lone passenger. Catherine pressed the front of her skirt with nervous fingers and forced a smile of welcome.

  She stepped forward with the intention of offering her hand but when the gentleman straightened and looked at her, she screamed in terror and fell back from him. Edgar! But that’s impossibile—Edgar was dead.

  “Are you all right?” the man with Edgar’s features asked, concern furrowing his brow.

  “Who are you?” she implored, stricken.

  “Why, I’m Edward Bourgeault. Oh, I see,” he said, his eyes lighting with understanding. “My brother did not tell you we were twins. This must be rather shocking.”

  Understatement that, she thought. She felt as though she had been dropped off the side of a cliff.

  “I’ll recover,” Catherine said as she drew in a shaky breath. “Won’t you come in, sir?”

  He smiled congenially and followed. “It would be like Edgar not to mention such an important detail. I’m somewhat surprised he spoke of me at all.”

  “He did so reluctantly,” she admitted as she escorted him to the parlor. She asked him please to be seated and offered him refreshment.

  “No, no thank you.” He paused for a moment, watching her. “You are as beautiful as I have heard.” The words were complimentary and without insinuation.

  She smiled graciously as she sat down across from him. “I appreciate how kind you’ve been. Your letter was very reassuring.”

  “And why not?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. “You’ve had a terrible time of it, I’d be willing to wager. If you think I hold you responsible in some way, disabuse yourself of the notion immediately. I loved my brother, but I suspect he is the cause of his own demise.”

  “I
think he was very ill toward the end,” Catherine agreed. “He was irrational at times.”

  Edward did not speak for several minutes as he studied the landscape outside the window, and then he brought his gaze back to hers as though he had come to some weighty decision.

  “First, let me say, Edgar was always complex. He could be moody and difficult but unstable, I would swear to that. I’ve tried for years to determine exactly when he became different, and one incident stands out very lucidly in my mind.” He paused and cleared his throat. “The subject is delicate, you must understand. Forgive me if I offend you.”

  “If you think you know how Edgar came to be as he was, I’d like to know.”

  “I’ll take you at your word. When we were boys, around about eight summers, a distant cousin came to visit. We were very fond of him, looked up to him, especially Edgar. He was older, but he spent a great deal of time with us. One afternoon I went fishing with him alone and, to put it as politely as possible, he made improper advances toward me.”

  “Dear lord!” she gasped.

  Edward nodded. “As you say. I told my father and the cousin was gone within the hour. I never thought much on the incident after that—it left no scars of which I’m aware, but about that time my brother began to change. I’ve come to believe that my cousin must have been more successful in his attempt to seduce Edgar than he had been with me.”

  “How sad.”

  “Yes, indeed. Edgar did not alter all at once, you understand. It was a gradual thing, but by the time he reached adolescence he could not tolerate anyone touching him. He was a very angry young man.”

  “Why was he angry with you?”

  He sighed. “When we were about nineteen or twenty, I can’t quite remember, he became part of a group of aristocratic youths who were involved in some very unsavory goings on. They drank and gambled, which was not unusual, but I also think they committed some illegal acts. What angered the countryside was the ravishing of a local village girl.

  “Of course, I knew Edgar could not be part of that, but he refused to acquit himself of the charges so ashamed was he of his disability. Thank goodness my father was dead by that time, for I don’t know how he would have stood the disgrace. But my mother still lived. I told Edgar he must clear his name and forget his friends. He would not, therefore, I packed our belongings and took Mother back to her people in Cornwall. I met my future wife there and decided to stay.”