Page 13 of The Virgin in the Rake's Bed
“It was… a pleasure, and had we been observed then there would be no doubting our intentions toward one another,” he said, smiling up at her from the floor, where he now kneeled ruffling Plotinus’ stomach.
“I suppose it was the first lesson in seduction,” she replied, but Ian laughed.
“I think you will find you already knew the lesson well enough. It was you, not I, who caused the seduction. Was it not your dress that was disheveled, your shoulders that were exposed, your ankles alluring?” he asked, feeling himself aroused by the mere thought of what they had shared.
Catherine smiled, twirling her finger through her hair, and laughing. “When you put it like that, I suppose you are right,” she said.
Her dress that day was modest by comparison. The only flesh that could be seen, other than her face, were her wrists, alluringly exposed above the rim of her gloves, and beneath the cuff of her sleeve. Ian imagined himself trailing a finger across them, his touch sending a shiver running through her as their eyes met and their lips touched in a gentle kiss, their passions arousing.
“I shall teach you a little more,” he said, and she looked at him with bemusement.
“So, I am to have further lessons in the art of seduction?” she said, and he nodded.
“It is different for women, though. Seduction is not necessarily appropriate…” he began, but she scoffed at him.
“Oh, really, is that to say I am not capable of it? You said yourself that I seduced you last night. I must have some skill at it,” she said, and he nodded.
“You certainly have some skill, though you must be careful not to be so blatant, if you wish to maintain your reputation,” he replied, and now she laughed.
“I have no desire to maintain a reputation. I do not see why a bachelor is permitted to seduce any woman he wishes, but a spinster must be prim and proper at all times. I think I could be rather good at it. After all, you were taken in,” she said, and he smiled, enjoying this mischievous side to her.
“Are we to say that you seduced me, or I seduced you?” he asked, rising from the floor and coming to sit back next to her.
“Perhaps we are both skilled in such arts, though I would welcome the chance to practice further,” she said, and he nodded.
“Well then, we must meet again, if we are to keep up the pretense of our betrothal,” he replied.
To even suggest such a thing seemed anathema, given that the suggestion of such a meeting flew in the face of his avowed following of the rules. But rules could be broken, and, in this instance, he thought it reasonable to do so. After all, he would keep his feelings in check, as, he believed would she.
“A walk in the park, perhaps. That way, we would be seen but not overheard,” she said, and he nodded.
“Shall we say tomorrow afternoon?” he asked, and she smiled.
“I would like that, I would like it very much,” she replied, and rising from her place by the fire, she took her leave of him, promising to meet at noon by the entrance to Regent’s Park the next day.
Ian watched her leave, standing at the window, as her figure retreated along the drive accompanied by the maid, whom Ian could only hope had been sworn to discretion, and disappeared into the trees. He gotten carried away, and he knew it. It was far too easy to do, especially with a woman like her. Throughout their interview, he had been thinking of kissing her, imagining their lips meets again, the way she had smelled – of lavender and rose water – the gentle touch of her hand against his, the allure of the forbidden fruit.
“I must be careful, Plotinus,” he said, patting the dog on the head, “I must be very careful, indeed.”
Chapter Eight
Catherine did not return home immediately after seeing Ian. Her mind was filled with thoughts as to what her father might do to prevent her betrothal to Ian and replace him with a man of his own choosing, though her worry at the tarnishing of Ian’s reputation seemed unfounded.
There had been no sense of worry or angst at the revelation of her father’s intentions, and nothing that she could imagine bringing his reputation into harm. Catherine knew well enough that Ian enjoyed the attentions of many women – such a fact was common knowledge, and she decided that she was being somewhat foolish in her worry that her father would expose some hitherto unknown scandal.
But still, it distressed her to think of the lengths which her father was willing to go in order to prevent her from being happy, and whilst she could never despise him, she certainly wondered as to his motives. The truth was, her father was ambitious. He wanted land and title. It was not enough to be successful in business, nor even to be wealthy. He believed that the only true path to success lay in the acquisition of a title, and without it, he would remain a failure.
Ian had a title, but a Baronet would not suffice for her father. Only an Earldom or a Dukedom would do. He wished not to be Lord of the Manor, but master of a grand estate, feted at court and to join the ranks of the nobility. It amused Catherine to think that this would never happen, unless by some strange occurrence the Regent decided to make him such. Titles such as that did not simply descend on one from a height, and even having Catherine married into such a family was no guarantee that her father would benefit.
Still, he was adamant that he would have his way, and Catherine could do nothing to dissuade him. She had decided to pay a call on Rebecca, hoping to explain a little about her intentions. Despite her dismissive words, Catherine really did care about what her two closest friends should think of her, and having been their confidants in their matrimonial trials, she hoped that now Rebecca and Samantha would offer a listening and supportive ear. And so, it was to the Somerset residence she went, blushing slightly as she was admitted, gazing along the corridor from the hallway and recalling her actions in the library the evening before.
“Oh, Catherine, how pleased I am to see you. Come to the drawing room and we shall have some tea,” Rebecca said, emerging from a side door after the butler had informed her of Catherine’s presence.
“I am not disturbing you, am I?” Catherine asked, but Rebecca only laughed.
“You never disturb me, Catherine, and the nanny has Sebastian,” she said, referring to her and Nicholas’ son.
To her surprise, Catherine found Samantha sitting in the drawing room, and she wondered whether the two had met in counsel to discuss the situation, imagining that it would not be long before their response was demanded. “How are you, Catherine?” Samantha asked, looking at her with some concern.
