Free In the Garden of Temptation by Cynthia Wicklund Page B

she had been. Instead, he had
distanced himself from her by pleading temporary loss of control.
The letdown hurt unbearably.
    Catherine believed his remorse was genuine,
but rather than regretting their lovemaking, she wished him to
regret that they might never love again.
    She grasped the bell pull and gave it a yank,
sending an echo through the drafty halls. Several minutes passed
before a breathless Edna appeared at the door.
    “ I’m sorry to keep you
waiting, my lady, but Lord Bourgeault sent for me. I have a message
for you.”
    Catherine sighed. “And what might that be,
Edna?”
    “ He said you are expected at
supper.”
    Catherine whirled around. “I should have
known. I’ll not get out of it tonight. Damn! Damn!”
    Edna stared at her mistress, eyes wide with
shock.
    Catherine caught the look on the servant’s
face and cringed in self-disgust. “Oh bother—please, just have my
tub filled so I can bathe. I can’t go downstairs like this.”
    “ Lord Ashworth is having his
tub filled at the moment. As soon as that is completed, I will see
to your bath.” Edna paused then whispered in a conspiratorial
voice, “Isn’t our guest the most handsome gent you’ve ever seen?”
She smiled at her mistress guilelessly.
    Catherine sent her maid a look of such
displeasure, Edna gulped and dashed from the room.
    “ He’s probably tossed up her
skirts as well,” she fumed aloud. An illogical assumption and
unfair, she realized, but her feelings were battered and she was
unable to be fair.
    Of course, the earl would be taking his bath
right at the moment she wanted to wash! His convenience before
hers, naturally. She stormed on in this unreasonable fashion for
the better part of fifteen minutes before the footmen entered her
room with the first of several buckets of water.
    Catherine was left to undress herself because
Edna had not yet returned, and she fumbled with the hooks of her
dress until she was scarlet with rage. She flung herself into the
bath, causing a cascade of scented water to slosh over the edge of
the tub onto the woolen carpet.
    At that unfortunate moment, an unbidden
thought of the earl reclining in his bath came upon her. She
imagined his strong shoulders and broad chest as they rose above
the surface of the water, the steamy liquid glistening on smooth,
masculine skin. He would stand then, the foamy suds slipping down,
down—oh my! What was she thinking?
    How could she entertain such thoughts about a
man she had just been cursing to the depths of Hell? She forced
herself to remember her anger. Much less disturbing to be incensed,
she thought, and less painful than the self-pity she had allowed
herself to wallow in upon returning home.
    She finished her bathing in haste, scrubbing
her skin until it shone pink. Was she washing away more than an
afternoon’s perspiration?
    “ Some things never change,”
Catherine spoke aloud a short while later as she stood in front of
the wardrobe, once again trying to choose an ensemble that would
not make her hang her head in shame. She had nearly given up hope,
when her hand grazed the skirt of a rose silk gown hidden in the
back of the cabinet behind its more garish sisters. How had she
forgotten this little gem?
    Not to say the dress was perfect, just less
imperfect than her other choices. She slipped the wispy garment
over her head and stared into the mirror.
    The gown was the first one
Edgar had bought her after their marriage. It still had her
husband’s hallmark neckline which was embarrassingly low, but aside
from that it was quite attractive. Soft puffy sleeves to the elbows
were enhanced by a bow on each cinched cuff. Nipped at the waist,
the full skirt flowed gently to the tips of her feet, while
floral appliques edged the rounded bodice and hem.
    All in all, though outdated, it would do.
Even the problem of the plunging neckline would be solved if she
found a piece of lace to insert in the bodice to cover her chest.
The baron would not like it