Page 18 of The Virgin in the Rake's Bed
“Something like this, “Miss Ferguson, would you do me the honor of allowing me a second waltz?” and you then reply…?” he said, his words trailing off in question.
“I would be delighted,” she said, offering him her hand.
“Then you have shown yourself an easy catch,” he remarked, and she blushed.
“But if we have already danced…?” she asked, but he shook his head.
“Why not offer some allurement? Do not make yourself so easily available. Tell me you have already promised this next dance to another man, and that way I shall wonder if I have missed my chance,” he said, and Catherine smiled.
“But if I want to dance with you, what then?” she asked, and Ian tutted.
“You are to create an illusion. You are interested, yes, but you must make me work for the chance. I must be led to think that you have all manner of other suitors and that I am but one of many who might have that final chance,” he said, looking at her pointedly.
“I see…” she said, though it all seemed terribly complicated. What would happen if she pursued such an illusion too far, she wondered? If she made out she was not interested, even if she was, then would he – the gentleman – not find someone who was interested?
“So, now you have danced with some other gentleman, and I have spent that dance sitting out, desperately hoping you will offer me your hand for the next waltz. You have shown willing, but not immediacy. I have had to work for what I wanted, and thus the allure becomes even greater,” he said, as though in conclusion of the lesson.
“So, in doing so, I have seduced you, but you believe you have seduced me?” she asked, and he laughed.
“Precisely,” he said, and Catherine laughed.
“It is no wonder I find the whole thing so tedious. All these unspoken rules, they are designed to trip one and humiliate one, it is simply terrible,” she said, shaking her head.
“But learn them, and you shall soon find yourself with whichever man you desire,” he replied, causing her to blush even more.
Catherine could not tell him that the man she desired was standing in front of her. Would these same principles work on Ian Bennet, too? He was not the sort of man to fall in love, or so she thought, nor to be led so easily by the ways of women.
“And what of the man? Is he merely the woman’s pawn?” she asked, curious to know Ian’s own thoughts on the matter.
“Most men are easily infatuated. They think of little but the physical delights. A woman can use that to her advantage, many women do. But there are those who do not understand the ways of men and find themselves at the disadvantage. You do not possess that problem,” he said, smiling at her.
“I am a seductress, am I?” she asked, laughing at the absurdity of such a suggestion.
“You seduced me in the library at the Somerset residence,” he said, and Catherine laughed.
“But I had no intention of doing so, I thought you were Hamilton Asquith, and given his reputation, such a seduction would have required little by way of my own abilities,” she replied.
It embarrassed her now to think of the way in which she had presented herself, the disheveled dress, the breathless look, the expression which spoke of her desire – it had all been an act, but one which had proved fruitful. Had she really seduced, Ian, she wondered?
“But we would not have shared a kiss had there not been some attraction there, some reason for our lips to meet,” he replied, taking a step toward her.
“Then I have already learned the lesson in such an art?” she asked, and he smiled.
“One can always refresh one’s memory,” he said, “the kiss, perhaps?”
Catherine’s heart began to beat faster now. She was breathless, anticipating what was to come. She wanted to feel his lips against hers, the closeness of his body, the touch of his hand. He pulled her closer toward him, their faces once more almost touching.
“Is such a thing permitted after only two dances?” she whispered, and he smiled.
“Let us forget the lessons for a moment. It is you I want,” he exclaimed, and he kissed her with such passion as to be quite overwhelming.
In that moment, Catherine felt herself entirely taken up by the delights of their kiss. There was nothing of a falsity about it, no forced gesture or empty act. This kiss was real. At least, that is how it felt to Catherine. Her arms were around his waist, gazing up into his eyes, their lips as one. She let out a sigh as they parted, for she would happily have had it last far longer, desiring again to know his touch. He looked a little embarrassed by his passion, apologizing for the sudden burst of feeling he had displayed.
“There is no harm in it,” she exclaimed, “am I not to learn the art of seduction?” and taking the initiative she pulled him close to her and kissed him again.
* * *
“And I said to Lady Bertram, you cannot permit the maid to remain, not after such a spectacle in the stables, you are… oh…” a voice behind them said.
