Page 22 of The Virgin in the Rake's Bed
“Seduction? He is teaching you such an art? Be careful, Catherine, for I think he has already succeeded, and you have fallen under his spell,” Rebecca replied, taking a sip of tea, and smiling at Catherine, who suddenly felt terribly embarrassed.
“And what does it matter if I have fallen in love with him? There is no law against it, is there?” she asked.
It was surely her right to fall in love with any man she chose, and to reject any man she chose in favor of another. She felt happy to have such feelings, despite their sudden appearance, and she was willing to allow them to continue, albeit until the truth had to be revealed.
“But does he feel the same for you, or is this just one of his games?” Rebecca asked. “You know of his reputation, you know there was a scandal in the past, all kept hushed up, of course.”
Catherine had tried not to think about the scandals in the past concerning Ian. It was enough for her to know that the woman he had once loved was gone, killed in an accident, the same one that had claimed Ian’s brother, but the rest was no concern to her. The past was the past, and it was the present that mattered, a present in which her own feelings were becoming ever clearer.
“I do not know what feelings he harbors, if any, but for now I am content to continue seeing him and maintain our ruse. He has told me he will continue to teach me the finer points of seduction,” Catherine replied, and Rebecca laughed.
“Oh, dearest Catherine, you do not need to make such excuses. If you are in love with him, then simply say it. Why should you be forced to hide your feelings?” she asked, and Catherine sighed.
“Because of the fact I do not know of his own for me,” she replied, shaking her head sadly.
It was the only sore point in what seemed the most perfect of circumstances. Everything was as it should be in a betrothal. She and Ian enjoyed one another’s company, they engaged in delightful conversation, enchanted one another with their actions and mannerisms, they even kissed and knew intimacy, but as far as Ian was concerned, it was all a ruse, or so she believed.
“But could you not ask him?” Rebecca suggested.
“Good heavens, no, I could not possibly,” Catherine exclaimed, shaking her head.
The very idea of it was quite absurd. Catherine could not imagine saying such a thing to Ian, for she knew well enough his thoughts on marriage and commitment. It was for that very reason – at least she believed – that he had agreed to their ruse. He too thought that she harbored similar feelings, but the truth was that though she had always professed a satisfaction in her spinsterhood, she had willingly believed that one day she might meet a man to call her own.
“Then you will never know, Catherine. You will never know the truth,” Rebecca said, giving Catherine a weak smile. With these words ringing in her ears, Catherine made her excuses and left, determined to do all she could to make her ruse a truth.
Chapter Thirteen
“Ihave come to call on Mr. Bennet,” Catherine said, when she arrived at Westwick Manor a short while later.
Rebecca had allowed Catherine to leave by the servant’s entrance of the Somerset residence, calling for a carriage to take her a circuitous route to Westwick Manor. The deception had been managed well, and Catherine had – so she believed – managed to avoid unwanted eyes on her journey to see Ian. Now, she stood in the doorway, offering her calling card to the butler, who ushered her inside.
“I shall just see if the Baron is available,” the butler replied.
Catherine kept forgetting that Ian was titled, she referred to him merely as “Mr. Bennet,” for titles and class held little sway with her, and certainly she did not seek them as her father and brother sought them. In her experience, the aristocracy was nothing but trouble, and she would gladly have nothing to do with them every again.
“Catherine, I was not expecting you,” a voice from the far end of the hallway said, and Catherine looked up from admiring a portrait of Ian on the wall to see his figure coming toward her. She smiled at him, pleased that his tone was more of surprise than annoyance.
“I thought we might talk a little,” she said, and he nodded, beckoning her to follow him along the corridor.
He led her into the library, where a fire was kindled in the hearth, and open books were strewn across the large table in the center. Plotinus looked up from his place by the fire and gave a bark of acknowledgement, before slumping down again to sleep.
“I am delighted to see you. It is an unexpected pleasure. I was thinking of luncheon,” he said, just as the clock on the mantelpiece struck noon.
“Oh, am I disturbing you?” she asked “It is just that I have had some difficulty getting here,” and she recounted the tale of using Rebecca as her ploy.
When she had finished, he looked at her and smiled, shaking his head in astonishment. “I really am an enemy to be defeated,” he said, and to her surprise, he told Catherine of a visit he had received from Rickard the afternoon before.
“And he challenged you to a duel if you should do anything to offend my honor?” she exclaimed, and Ian nodded.
“He was quite adamant about it. He and I are to duel if I show any sign of taking advantage of you for my own gain. I have never heard anything so preposterous. If anyone is seeking to gain advantage from your marriage, then it is he and your father. They would not be complaining if mine were a dukedom,” he said, grinning at her.
Catherine was astonished to hear the lengths which both her father and brother would go to so that the match might be prevented. If only itwerereal, what then? She mused on this for a moment, delighting still in the fantasy of it all, even as Rebecca’s words still rang in her ears. Ian was sitting by the fire, looking for all the world like the contented bachelor he was. Could he ever be disturbed from that happy state, she wondered?
“Perhaps not, but to think of how petty it all is. They are like children who cannot have their own way,” she said, tutting and taking the seat he had offered her as they entered the room.
“They are worse than children, for children soon move on from their grievances, whilst your father and brother hold on to theirs like dogs on the scent,” he replied.
“Then we must continue the ruse, if only to make them angrier,” she said, smiling at him.
