Page 41 of The Virgin in the Rake's Bed
“Catherine Ferguson,” she replied, and he raised his eyebrows.
“Betrothed to the Baron Westwick, Ian Bennet?” he queried, and Catherine blushed.
“I do not see him here,” she replied, asserting herself, and Lord Ardley smiled.
“Then in that case, am I to take it that this next dance could be mine?” he asked.
Catherine felt the same sense of seduction as she had with the captain, the power to accept or dismiss. Her gaze had again attracted a man to her side, a man she could take or leave. But she was not about to be rude, and he was charming, if somewhat mischievous in his alluding to her betrothal.
“It can be,” she said, taking his arm, just as the music began for the second dance.
At that moment, the captain returned, and he looked somewhat disappointed to find her already engaged in what he had evidently hoped would be his second chance.
“You have danced already?” Lord Ardley asked, and Catherine nodded.
“A lady cannot be left on the wall,” she said, and he smiled.
“And not one with such charms and delights as you, Miss Ferguson. Tell me, your betrothal…” he began, but Catherine suddenly stepped on his foot, startled by the sight of a guest entering the ballroom.
It was Ian, and though she had expected to see him, she had not expected to feel the sudden force of emotion gripping her without mercy, a terrible feeling of guilt coming over her, despite all that had happened.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” she said, as Lord Ardley winced.
“Quite all right,” he said, grimacing.
“We should step out, I would like some air,” she said, and before he could reply, she had loosed hands with him and pushed her way through the throng, making for the doors out onto the terrace.
Her heart was beating fast, her nerves unsteady, and she glanced behind her, anxious that Ian should not have seen her. Did he know she would be here, she wondered? Just then, Samantha came hurrying out behind her, and Catherine breathed a sigh, pulling out her fan and flapping it vigorously.
“Are you alright? You left rather abruptly. Did Lord Ardley say something untoward to you?” Samantha asked.
“No, he was the perfect gentleman. I stepped on his foot,” Catherine replied.
“Oh,” Samantha said, “poor man.”
“But it was the arrival of Ian that made me do so. I was quite caught off guard,” she said, still glancing nervously at the terrace doors lest Ian should appear to take the air.
“Are you cross with me for attempting reconciliation?” Samantha asked, and Catherine smiled.
“I could never ben cross with you for trying to help me, though the number of bachelors here present is quite overwhelming,” she said, expecting to find the captain or Lord Ardley pursuing her at any moment.
“I could hardly have held a successful ball with only you and Ian present,” Samantha replied, and Catherine laughed.
“You have done us both a kindness, even if it forces us into one another’s company,” she replied.
She had wanted to see Ian, longed to see him, desired him, but the thought of being in his company again had terrified her. Now, she had no choice, and unless she was to hide on the terrace or in the rose garden for the rest of the evening, encountering him would be an inevitability.
“But that is what you want, is it not? What do you want, Catherine?” Samantha asked.
It was a question Catherine had pondered herself. She had wanted Ian to tell her he loved her, so that she might tell him the same. She had wanted their ruse to turn into a truth, and in that way end her promise to the Earl of Westwood by simple force of fact. But Ian had told her something quite different, leaving her floundering in the hope of failed desire. Now, she wanted someone who would save her from her father’s desire to see her married to a man she had no love for, nor would she ever do so.
“I want Ian,” she admitted.
That was the truth, as much as it pained her to admit it. She wanted the one man she had truly fallen in love with, even if he had not fallen in love with her as she had believed.
“But perhaps there is still hope,” Samantha said, and she pointed back through the doors into the ballroom, “he has come, has he not?”
Catherine pondered this for a moment. Samantha was right, Ian had come to the ball. And why would he do so if he did not wish to encounter her? Perhaps there was still a chance, she mused to herself, and smiling at Samantha, she reached out and took her hand.
