Page 6 of The Lady
One thing that her married acquaintances had told, or alluded to, or frankly stated with wide and abundant humour, was the delights of the marriage bed. A great many of them assured her there was no real need for the marriage part of it. Nor, some said with a wicked chuckle, that on occasion there was no need for a bed at all.
Perhaps Flora should spend less time with married ladies and widows, but the truth was they were far more exciting company than debutantes, their conversation livelier and more likely to include titbits about Caton. At first, it had annoyed her no end to have to hear their talk. After all, how was she to plot her revenge and nurse her youthful heart when all her friends and acquaintances were equally taken with the handsome doctor? Soon, however, it had helped. The situation meant she could dismiss her infuriation as nothing more than the norm, and if the good doctor was too busy indulging with the matronsof high society, completely disregarding the martial laws of love and fidelity, then he was not the one for her.
“Ahh yes, my reputation—or rather my brother’s—proceeds me.” Doctor Caton did not look especially amused by the status he had acquired. Which was most odd, given that a great many gentlemen, lords and dandies of theton,would have liked to be considered a libertine by their female counterparts. It was the main reason Flora had eschewed all her offers of matrimony—the gentlemen of thebeau mondedid not take the institution seriously enough.
She gave a wry smile as the servant arrived, then started to serve out tea on the Sèvres china. The cook, a Mr. Matthias Lefebvre, a delightfully eccentric French chef, had created dozens of delicious morsels before them. Rich swirls of cream were placed atop light layers of pastry, dotted through with strawberries or a sprig of lavender. They could be works of art. When she passed a plate with two such delicacies on it to Caton, the doctor grinned.
“I had planned to visit Fortnum’s with the intention of quenching my sweet tooth, but it seems as if my prayers were answered here.”
Without truly thinking of her reply, just latching on to the change in topic, Flora said with sufficient bite to scold, “I did not think you were a man who ever resisted temptation. Perhaps you will go there afterwards and then on to Gunter’s. Will that appease your hunger?”
Doctor Caton lowered his plate back onto the table, a hardness entering his face which she had not seen before. “If my company is so below your own high standards, I will depart.” He made to stand, and Flora, having both wished him gone and wanting him to stay, knew she did not want him gone in this manner. Having resolved to revenge herself on him years ago,it did cause a problem that, whenever he was actually in her presence, she forgot all her resolutions.
“No, indeed,” she forced herself to say. “I misspoke, please accept my apologies.”
The doctor did not look entirely mollified, but he slowly resumed his seat. That obstinate look did not fade from his face, however, and when he spoke up, interrupting Flora’s recount of her last visit to Minerva Press lending library, it was obvious what subject he wished to address.
“My poor name is one that extends far throughout your friends.”
It felt silly to deny it, so Flora took a large gulp of tea, enjoying the bergamot and lemon tang and hoping to think of something appropriate to say. She was in a bind because firstly, as far as she was concerned, Caton deserved all his blighted status. Two, she was supposed to want to avenge herself on him and his callous treatment of a young heart all those years ago. But the pained look that seemed to plague him did not appear to be an act, and thus it needed addressing and she could not simply sit still downing teacup after teacup.
“Most gentlemen of my acquaintance consider it a badge of honour to be labelled a rogue.”
“Most of those gentlemen have tidy fortunes or grand titles and well-connected families to rely on.”
“Your brother is an earl.”
“My half-brother is an earl, that is true, but I am from the wrong side of the blanket. Surely you must realise when the scandalous side of my name wears off, and the shock, I will simply return to my normal state.”
“That of a well-respected doctor?” Flora asked. Yes, in some ways, Doctor Caton was treated unfairly and unjustly, but he was certainly better off than if he had been born a woman or if Langley had refused to acknowledge him.
“How am I to gain a wife if my name is so tarnished? It might be overlooked that I am baseborn, but to add this unearned reputation to that, no sane or sensible woman would consider me.”
His question entirely threw Flora. Why would Caton wish to marry? He had access to the affections of any number of elegant and handsome women. He had a good income. A pleasant home. A stable business.
“I assume such a question is merely hypothetical,” she finally said.
“No indeed, you are much mistaken Lady Flora. I have been considering it for several months. I would like to take a wife.”
“It will lose you a great deal of business amongst my married friends.”
“Perhaps it will improve my standing with their husbands.”
A small laugh slipped unbidden from Flora’s mouth. She should not find this man amusing. She had quite resolved herself on that matter. “I am afraid to say you have entirely missed this year’s marriage mart, and all the diamonds and greatest catches of the Season are wed.”
“Untrue my lady, you are still unmarried.”
The flirtatious and commentary nature of this provocative comment made Flora blush despite herself. One of her hands gripped the cushioned armrest, and she could recall all too well, how much she had desired Caton. How she wished she didn’t and how she had cried for months all those years ago. He was still as handsome as ever of course, with only some faint lines around his eyes to show he was now in his mid-thirties. One would expect debauchery to have worsened him, but it seemed as if the Dowager Countess of Langley did not have sons whose persons visages displayed their wicked ways.
Thankfully, she hid her gasp behind a cough, but Caton certainly caught her reaction because his lips curved up appreciatively as he watched her.
“Not that I would dream of marrying amongst thebeau monde, no I must look at a different rung of society. Someone better suited to my station in life. Perhaps a clerk’s sister or a chaperone might consider me.”
Unable to let him continue on in such a manner, and with a new idea forming in Flora’s mind—a perfect way of enacting revenge—she needed to be utterly certain he was sincere before she commenced her plan. “This is not some elaborate ruse, sir? Most men have sworn off the institution, declaring themselves too poor, or too?—”
“I have a good eight hundred a year from my investments. My salary makes up the rest to render London comfortable. Although if I were to removed to the country, my income would decrease. Say my prospective wife preferred the seaside or wished to be near family—that could suit me well enough.”
Whilst eight hundred a year would not guarantee a life amongst the highest in Society, Flora knew enough to know most women of a comfortable background would consider this a fine income. It was certainly enough to buy a house and raise a family in a very pleasant style.
