Page 5 of The Virgin in the Rake's Bed
“By all means, my friend, slip in through the side door along the terrace. I had a fire kindled there earlier on and you may avail yourself of any of my volumes. Hide yourself away there for as long as you wish. There will be no women to disturb you. They are all too busy securing themselves a dance partner,” he said, laughing and slapping Ian heartily on the shoulder.
* * *
Catherine was trying to avoid her father’s eye. Hamilton Asquith had disappeared from view behind one of the marble columns, which flanked the opposite side of the ballroom from the terrace. She made her way through the throng, purposefully looking forward so that her father could not attract her attention – it would not do to have the proposal announced before her indiscretion could become known.
The scandal must be created beforehand, for only then could the Earl of Westwood be dissuaded from his intentions. It had not occurred to Catherine that her actions might seem cruel to the casual observer, for she was thinking only of herself, rather than the earl, whose lecherous nature disgusted her. She could not help but dislike him, and found little to commend him, though it could not be said he was not generous in showering her with gifts. She felt like a commodity in his eyes, and the way he treated her made her feel already like his property
“Are you not dancing, Catherine?” a voice behind her enquired, and she turned to find herself face to face with her brother Rickard, who appeared to be making a circuit of the room in order to secure himself a partner.
“I… oh, well, no, not yet,” she said, edging away, lest Rickard should sense something of what she intended.
“You, Rebecca, and Samantha were deep in conversation just now,” he said, his voice questioning in tone.
“They are my closest friends. Is it not understandable that I should speak with them?” she asked, and he shrugged his shoulders.
“Father will make the announcement soon,” he said, a smile coming over his face.
Catherine rolled her eyes. Her father wanted her to marry in order to secure his place amongst the aristocratic ranks. That ambition was shared by her brother, who made no secret of the fact that he believed aristocratic connections were good for business, not to mention his own romantic prospects. “I am sure he will,” she replied, still edging backward toward the pillar.
“And then the whole ton shall know of what is planned with the Earl of Westwood,” he said, as though the thought had not crossed her mind.
“I must take the air,” she said, and he nodded, turning to survey the scene behind him.
“And I must secure a partner for the next dance. When they hear the announcement, they are bound to think better of me,” he said, disappearing off into the throng.
Catherine breathed a sigh of relief. She had wasted precious time talking to her brother, and now she could not be sure where Hamilton Asquith might be. She stepped out into the hallway, which was deserted, and looked from left to right. The Somerset residence was a large, sprawling manor house, with wings both east and west, centered on a grand entrance hall with black and white marbled floor and a staircase that led up to a gallery above. There was no one else about, not even a servant, and she closed the door of the ballroom behind her, the sounds of the music now muffled.
Taking a deep breath, Catherine wondered for a moment if she was doing the right thing. She had always been impulsive, and usually her plans came to fruition. But despite not willing to admit it, Rebecca and Samantha had been right to voice their concerns. What she was doing was reckless, and there could be no going back on it.“Once a scandal, always a scandal”– that was what her mother used to say, and Catherine knew that the memory of the ton was long and a scandal such as she was contemplating could not be undone.
But if the price of her happiness was idle gossip – gossip which would soon replace itself when some new titivation came along– then she was willing to pay the price. Catherine had no care for her reputation amongst men, for she had no desire to attract one, not to marriage, at least, and so ruining that reputation was merely academic, and with this in mind, she turned along the corridor and headed toward the library, imagining that perhaps Hamilton Asquith had taken refuge there.
Outside the door, she paused, wondering what she might say or do to ensure his attentions. Despite her boldness, she was not used to behaving in such a way and she was angry with herself at finding her hands trembling, her heart beating fast in her chest. She steadied herself, determined not to let her nerves get the better of her, loosening her gown a little, and pulling at her bodice to reveal just a little more of her shoulder than was acceptable in polite company.
“Come along, Catherine, be bold,” she whispered to herself, reminded of the many times she had persuaded her friends to be so themselves.
She listened for a moment at the library door, straining her ears to hear any movements coming from inside, imagining that she could hear footsteps and the opening of a door. A noise from the hallway caused her to startle, and she looked up to find one of the servants carrying a large tray of glasses into the ballroom. He did not notice her. And with a deep breath, Catherine opened the library door and stepped inside.
It was late in the evening now, and darkness had almost fallen. A fire was kindled in the library hearth and candles flickered around the room, casting shadows on the bookcases which stretched from floor to ceiling. Catherine squinted to see, making out a figure with his back turned to her, and imagining it to be Hamilton Asquith, she stepped forward and cleared her throat, the figure’s head bowed over a book, and evidently not having noticed her enter the room.
In her mind, Hamilton would turn and smile at her, noticing at once her allure and the exposure of her shoulder. He would step forward and a few words would be exchanged as she fluttered her eyelids and did everything in her power to draw him in and make him think her irresistible. Men were fickle like that, and some men more so than others. It would take little to force his hand, and one thing would lead to another. She imagined the two of them being caught in the throes of passion, the horror which would ensue at their discovery and her father’s face when he discovered what had happened.
“Catherine,” the figure said, turning to her, and causing her to startle.
It was not Hamilton Asquith who stood before her, but Ian Bennet, her brother’s friend, though a man she knew only in passing. Catherine felt the color drain from her cheeks, and she tried to pull up her dress, though in doing so it somehow slipped further down her shoulder and she was almost exposed, her embarrassment growing, as she tried to explain herself.
“I was… I thought… I pictured someone else here,” she said, and he stepped forward, a smile playing across his face.
“You mean I have interrupted a secret liaison?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“On my behalf, perhaps, but not on a gentleman’s,” she said, no longer trying to cover herself, but standing meekly before him, wishing that the floor would open and swallow her up.
How she wished she had listened to Rebecca and Samantha and not forged ahead with this foolish plan which had now ended in disaster. Ian was a handsome man, a respectable one, too, and had long been a friend to her brother. He would be horrified when Ian told him what he had seen – though perhaps that in itself would be enough to tarnish her reputation.
“So, you came here hoping to seduce whoever was in here, did you? And am I not of suitable quality to be seduced?” he asked, fixing her with a searching gaze, his eyes resting on the bare flesh of her shoulder.
“No… I mean… yes, you are, but…” she began, and he laughed, beckoning her to the fireside, for there was a chill in the air.
“What is all this about? Are you not betrothed to the Earl of Westwood? Your brother told me all about it this evening,” he said, smiling at her, and Catherine sighed.
