Page 8 of The Virgin in the Rake's Bed
“Thank goodness, we were so worried. We have been nothing but nerves since you left. We saw Hamilton Asquith return and were just waiting for the scandal to break. Did you decide against it or did circumstances conspire against you? Please, tell me you decided against it, Catherine?” Rebecca said, but Catherine shook her head.
“I fully intended to seduce him, but he was not in the library and so I could not do so,” she replied, as though it were as simple as missing the mail coach.
“But then, what do you intend to do? Is the announcement not to come immediately? Why do you look so happy if your plan has failed?” Rebecca asked, and Catherine laughed.
“You shall see,” she said, glancing over to where Ian stood with her brother, their eyes meeting for a moment, just as Catherine’s father tapped a glass and brought the room to order.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to thank our most gracious host, Her Grace, the Duchess of Sinclair, for giving me this opportunity to speak,” he began, as the attentions of the room now turned to him.
The duchess had been holding court at the far end of the room and she turned to acknowledge, as Catherine’s father raised his glass to her and offered a toast.
“It is my pleasure, Mr. Ferguson,” she said, and Catherine could not help smiling at hearing her father addressed in such a manner.
His greatest disappointment was that he had no title of his own, and despite currying many favors, moving in all the right circles, and confining his acquaintances only to the aristocratic classes the one thing which alluded him and set him apart from others was his lack of title. It was for this reason that he desired Catherine’s match with the Earl of Westwood, a match which would ensure his own respectability by association and, he hoped, the possibility of a title for himself.
“Thank you, Your Grace. I do not wish to take up too much of your time, ladies and gentlemen, for I know that we have several dances this evening, but I wish to share some happy news,” Catherine’s father said, and now the room fell entirely silent, as all eyes were fixed on him.
Catherine caught Ian’s eye, and he gave a nod, poised to step forward at the precise moment he was needed. The Earl of Westwood, too, seemed ready, as though he was about to claim a prize he had long coveted and which was now to be awarded him.
“Oh, Catherine, you do not have to do this, I am sure,” Samantha whispered, but Catherine ignored her, waiting for the exact moment of surprise.
“I am pleased to announce,” her father continued, “that my daughter, Catherine is to be married, and I announce the betrothal between her and…”
“I,” Ian said, stepping forward, as Catherine’s father looked somewhat shocked.
“Oh… well…” he stammered, but now Catherine took her cue stepped forward, too.
“That is right, between the Baron Westwick and I,” she said, as Ian offered her his arm.
A muttering rose amongst the crowd of guests, for it was surely a strange thing to know that a sworn bachelor like Ian Bennet should so suddenly announce his betrothal. The Earl of Westwood seemed lost for words an angry look coming over his face, and Catherine’s father stammered, though made no protest – perhaps wishing to save himself any embarrassment.
“Ah, yes, Ian Bennet, the Baron Westwick, a match I am sure has made my daughter ever so happy,” her father said, and a round of applause broke out around the room, before the guests still muttering their surprise, as they returned to their drinks and conversation.
As the musicians struck up their notes again and another dance began, Catherine faced her father, who looked from her to Ian and back in astonishment, as the Earl of Westwood came bustling up, his face flushed red with anger.
“This is outrageous,” he declared, fixing Catherine’s father with a furious gaze.
“I… I did not know anything about this, my Lord. Catherine, explain yourself,” her father demanded, turning to Catherine who smiled.
“Well, it is really quite simple, father. I have met the Baron Westwick on a number of occasions through Rickard and this very evening he has asked me to marry him, and I have accepted. I trust you are happy for me?” she said, fixing her father with a smile.
Her father seemed too shocked to offer anything, but a stammered response. On one hand, Ian Bennet was a match as suitable as the Earl of Westwood. He had a title and estates, a considerable income, and was, by all accounts, a respectable gentleman, albeit one for whom the company of women was a pleasure. It had been his betrothed who had caused the scandal and not Ian himself, and though he had always spoken fondly of the bachelor’s state, marriage was surely not out of the question.
“I… well, it is something of a surprise,” her father replied, just as Rickard came hurrying up, his face fixed with a look of astonishment.
“Ian, you never said anything about this,” he cried, but Ian only smiled.
“And why should I have done, Rickard? Am I to confide every matter – particularly those of the heart – with you?” he asked, and Rickard seemed to falter.
“Well… I suppose not, but all those things you said, all that stuff about…” he began, but Ian cut him off.
“When a man finds the woman he loves, then that is that. I am happy, and I hope you can be happy for me, and for your sister,” he said, slipping his hand into Catherine’s.
Catherine was impressed by the way he played the part. He seemed so convincing, and she could almost believe that they were betrothed by the act he gave. She turned to the Earl of Westwood, offering him her consolation, and he scowled at her, folding his arms and muttering to himself.
“Really, it is quite out of order. I had expectations; I had made plans. You cannot simply dismiss me out of hand,” he said, but Catherine smiled and shook her head.
“A proposal was never made, it was all rather assumed, but I simply cannot marry for anything but love, of that I can assure you,” she said, glancing up at Ian, who smiled.
