Page 21 of The Virgin in the Rake's Bed
“I hope that really was a joke,” he replied, as Ian opened the door.
“The only advantage I hope to gain in marrying your sister is an even closer tie to a beautiful and enchanting woman,” he replied, and though these words were something of an act, they certainly had a ring of truth to them…
* * *
When Rickard had left, Ian sat down in his favorite chair by the window. The shadows were lengthening, and Redbrand had stoked up the fire and lit the lamps, so that the room took on an inviting atmosphere. He smiled at the thought of Rickard and his father growing anxious over the impending marriage. It served them right to feel in such a way after the anxiety they had caused Catherine. She was safe from that for now, but for how long?
Ian pondered his feelings for Catherine a while longer, thinking back to the kiss they had shared that morning. He could not help but have feelings for her, even if at first, he had merely played a game. He liked the thought of teaching her the art of seduction, for it was a way to grow closer to her, even if she herself did not realize it. He could remain in control, or so he told himself, confident that though he had broken many of his own rules, love would not conquer them.
“I am not in love, do not be so foolish,” he told himself, but there was something about Catherine, something different from other women.
He wondered if love was the right word as he poured himself a glass of brandy. He had been in love before, been infatuated before, been seduced before. But Catherine was not even trying, and already she had succeeded. In her, he could detect no guile, no ulterior motives, no intentions beyond that which he could see, and which she presented. All that Catherine wanted was a means of escaping her father and Rickard’s intentions, and of finding a man she truly loved.
“And that is not you,” he said out loud, shaking his head at the preposterousness of such a thought.
But in the hours that followed, Ian could not help but allow those same thoughts to creep into his mind, the thought that perhaps there could be something more than ruse and illusion between he and Catherine, perhaps there could be true love, instead…
Chapter Twelve
“Iam using you as cover. I hope you do not mind,” Catherine said, when she and Rebecca were taking tea the next day.
“As cover? I do not understand,” her friend replied, looking at her with a puzzled expression.
Catherine had called on Rebecca that morning in an excitable mood. The news of her tryst with Ian behind the rhododendron bushes was by now common knowledge and had reached her father’s ears just before dinner the previous evening.
“Preposterous, outrageous, a scandal!” he had cried, banging his fist down on the table and causing the maids to retreat in fear to the kitchen.
“And why is it so scandalous for a lady to meet with her betrothed in such a way?” Catherine has asked, maintaining her calm in the face of her father’s anger.
“Because such actions do not show you as a lady, Catherine. They show you as a harlot. You run away from your chaperone, only to be discovered in a position of compromise by a woman who has taken great delight in making your business know throughout the ton. What will the Earl of Westwood think now?” he had demanded, and Catherine had told him she had no care at all for what the Earl of Westwood might think.
Thus, the conversation had ended in an impasse. Catherine’s father could not deny that the sharing of a kiss between two persons betrothed was far from scandalous, but he could not muster any acceptance for the marriage, and thus he chastised his daughter for compromising herself. Catherine had no interest in what her father thought, other than to tell him she would continue seeing Ian whether he liked it or not.
“Are you to forbid it?” she had asked, and her father had scowled.
“You are making a grave mistake. You should never see him again, I forbid it,” he had growled, and it was then Catherine had decided to conduct her business in secret.
She had come to the Somerset residence on the auspices of calling on Rebecca, but really it was a ploy before moving on to Westwick Manor. If Rickard or any of the servants should follow her, then they would be satisfied that Catherine had indeed arrived at the destination she had claimed to be visiting, and later she would return as though nothing had happened.
“I have told me father that I am visiting you. I have no doubt that he has sent Rickard or one of the servants to follow me,” Catherine replied, taking a sip of tea.
“But you have come to visit me,” Rebecca replied, looking somewhat confused.
“Yes, but I shall soon be leaving, even though they will think I am staying,” Catherine said. To her, the plan made perfect sense, though it seemed Rebecca still needed some convincing.
“To go where?” Rebecca asked, and Catherine rolled her eyes.
“To see, Ian, of course. My father wishes to forbid it. He thinks there is a scandal in it, but really, he is only interested in one thing, well, two. Title and money, those are his only loves, and in Ian he sees a threat to them both. He would happily see the betrothal crumble. But I am not about to allow that to happen,” Catherine continued.
“But it is not a real betrothal, Catherine. You speak as one who is desirous of this marriage, but it is all a ruse, is it not?” Rebecca asked, and Catherine felt herself blush.
When she had told Rebecca and Samantha of her plan, that much had been true. She had known Ian Bennet only as an acquaintance of her brother, and a business rival of her father. He was a convenient man to have found in the library, a man who had offered her a way out from her predicament and who had come to her aid in her hour of need. Love had not come into it. But now, her feelings were different. She wanted to see Ian – whether or not they were to be married, and she refused to allow her father to dictate when that possibility would arise.
“Perhaps there is some minor truth in my feelings,” she admitted, and Rebecca began to laugh.
“Only minor? Catherine, you have done nothing but speak of Sir Ian Bennet in the most resoundingly complementary tones this morning. You speak of your delight at the scandalous behavior in the park and…” she replied, but Catherine interrupted her.
“It was no scandal, only Lady Millicent makes it so. She is a foolish thing and thinks that even a misplaced hand or fleeting glance is reason enough to spread whispers throughout the whole ton. I enjoyed it. Mr. Bennet was merely instructing me in the art of seduction, and one cannot seduce without a kiss,” she said.
