The Virgin in the Rake’s Bed by Ava MacAdams
Chapter Two
“Look at that one. She is quite the card; do you not think?” Rickard Ferguson said, pointing to a young lady in a peacock blue dress with a large, feathered hairpiece protruding from her French bun.
“She has some attraction to her,” Ian Bennet replied, sighing and glancing around the room.
He was growing bored with the evening’s festivities and had only come to the ball at the persuasion of his friend, Rickard, who had spent much of the time passing comment on any woman who passed them by, as the two of them sat drinking punch. They had positioned themselves close to the punch bowl, a position which afforded them a view of the entire room and a place from which they could easily observe those women in need of a dancing partner.
“And that one there is the daughter of the Duke of Clarence. Twenty thousand a year, he has, which could almost make up for her rather plain looks,” Rickard continued, pointing to another woman in an ivory-colored dress, her cheeks heavily powdered and her dance card clutched firmly in hand.
“Be wary, Rickard, for the ways of women are strange and mysterious,” Ian replied, and his friend laughed.
“What is this? You giving me advice?” he asked, and Ian shrugged.
“I am older than you, and I have known what it is like to be on the receiving end of a woman’s devious ways,” he said, shaking his head.
“Not all women are like that, Ian, you are so very cynical,” Rickard replied, but Ian shook his head and folded his arms.
“I know what women are like, Rickard, and that is that,” Ian said, trying to push away the unpleasant memories now rising in his mind.
But it was to no avail, and his anger, pain, and bitterness came flooding back. Ian had once been betrothed to a woman named Cassandra Leybourne, an actress, whose exotic charms had claimed his for her own. Ian had become besotted, and the proposal of marriage had been swift. But Cassandra was a woman of wily ways and there had been a scandal and a betrayal, one which had broken Ian’s heart.
“Nonsense, you have simply not yet found the right one, Ian,” Rickard replied, pointing to another woman who was just passing by.
“I suppose you will eventually select one to dance with?” Ian asked, and his friend laughed.
“I have narrowed my list down to half a dozen possibilities. Most of the women here are plain or without enough additional temptation to make it worth my while. A woman of good fortune and title might be looked on favorably even if she is plain of face, and a beautiful woman without two pennies to rub together might have her attractions in the short term – a man has his desires, you understand. But that perfect combination of beauty and fortune is so hard to come by,” Rickard replied, craning his neck so as to see over the throng of dancers.
“And I suppose wit and intelligence are not part of your consideration?” Ian replied, astonished by his friend’s base assessment of the fairer sex.
“It is not a consideration I take into account, no. A woman might well be intelligent, but what does it matter?” he asked, and Ian sighed.
“There are certain rules you must adhere to when dealing with womankind,” he said – for Ian had thought long and hard about his own failings with regard to women and had devised for himself a set of rules by which he might avoid the attachment of the past and never again fall under the spell of an alluring woman.
“Rules? Oh, nonsense, did those rules help prevent your own tragedy?” Rickard retorted, and Ian shook his head, taking a sip of punch and sighing.
“No, but they have helped me since and it is because of that tragedy I have found them useful. Rules prevent me from becoming entangled in the affairs of women before the time is right. Let them show their interest, rather than leaping forward with gusto,” he said, as Rickard rolled his eyes.
“And what are these rules? Come on, tell me them, and perhaps I might stick to them myself, or else decide that they are such nonsense as to not be worth bothering about,” he said, crossing his legs and sitting back in his chair, listening with bemusement as Ian recounted them.
The rules which Ian had devised prevented him from forming an attachment whilst preserving some of the benefits of female company. Ian was not averse to the idea of courting, but he was not about to fall in love, and any woman who showed signs of such feelings was hastily dismissed.
“I never dance with the same woman twice at two separate social gatherings, that is very important,” he began, adopting an authoritative air.
“But one may dance with the same woman in several dances at the same ball?” Rickard asked, and Ian nodded.
“Yes, because that is part of the seduction. But to continue that over several occasions is asking for trouble. The woman will become attached and jealous of any other woman who shows her interest. Moreover, it is not only dancing, but the entire act, the dalliance and flirtation, offering compliments in order to seduce” Ian replied, enjoying the chance to recount what he believed were those principles which kept him from falling into the wily trap of a woman.
“Very well, that is the first of your rules, and I can see that it makes some sense,” Rickard said, though even as he spoke his attention was drawn to a woman helping herself from the punch bowl, and at whom he smiled as she passed by.
“Secondly, never call on a woman unless invited. Such an action leads to habit and before you know it, you are already enamored with her. No, allow her to call on you and make yourself seem indifferent toward her. The point is, you do not want a woman to fall in love with you, else it becomes very easy to fall in love with her. Thirdly, do not offer compliments and run after a woman like a lapdog, it is all part of her ploy to ensnare you. Allow her to offer compliments to you, and repay them slightly, but not overtly,” he said, Rickard looking at him with a bemused expression on his face.
“Very well, no dancing, no calling, no compliments. You have certainly made it clear to the poor woman that already you despise her advances. Is there anything else?” he asked, and Ian pondered for a moment.
“Do not tell her you love her, never say those words, even if it is merely to seduce, do not ever find yourself alone with a woman – at least if you can avoid it, and certainly not at night, and never ask her to paint or play the pianoforte or write a poem for you, these things are the folly of men who think only of one thing,” he said, and Rickard laughed.
“Then I am to know nothing of her, nothing of her interests or delights?” he asked, and Ian nodded.
“If you are to avoid falling in love with her. And always avoid a woman’s parents. If you are introduced, then already that suggests you are interested in her. To do so is to find yourself already at her mercy,” Ian replied, recollecting the moment he had first met Cassandra’s parents and she had repeated her desire to marry him.
“So, am I to take it that the only acceptable manner in which to approach women is with the determination that your feelings will extend no further than mere physical attraction?” Rickard asked, and Ian nodded.
“A woman is perfectly acceptable diversion and can prove delightful company for an evening, or even a night. But beware the unchecked feelings, the arousal of passions which speak of words such as “love” for they are folly to your feelings and will result in nothing but heartache and pain,” Ian replied, sitting back in his chair and shaking his head.
His rules had emerged through bitter experience, the memory of Cassandra’s betrayal as fresh that day as it had ever been. He had no intention of ever falling in love again – not if he could help it – and was content to live his life from one fleeting affair to another.
“But do you not think that womankind as a whole should be given the chance to redeem itself?” Rickard asked, and Ian shrugged.
“You are free to trust them, my friend, after all, it is only your own feelings that will be hurt. But believe me, when you have been hurt not once, but twice, then you are destined to never trust again,” he said, reaching out and helping himself to a ladle full of punch.
It was not only in matrimonial love that Ian had felt himself betrayed, but in maternal love, too. His father – Sebastian, Baron of Westwick – was dead, but on his deathbed, he had told Ian of his mother’s betrayal. The man whom Ian considered his father – and who had raised him as his father – was not his father, though he had no idea who that man might be, and for that, Ian had never forgiven her.
He thought himself justified in despising womankind, as though collectively they represented all the suffering he himself had endured at the hands of two of their number. He had not spoken to his mother in years, even though she moved in much the same social circles as she. On the death of his brother and Cassandra, Ian had inherited the title of Baron of Westwick and lived now a comfortable life in London, content to treat women as ships passing in the night and with no desire for anything more.
“Twice? Why has some other woman wronged you,” Rickard said, and Ian waved his hand dismissively.
“It does not matter, the point is, I have been hurt,” he said, for he had never revealed the truth of his parentage to Rickard, nor anyone else in his circle of friends.
“I suppose you are right. I have not been hurt as you have, and I hope I never shall be. But do you not wonder about meeting a woman? Someone to provide an heir, or even simple companionship?” Rickard asked, fixing Ian with a questioning look.
The two had been friends for many years. Rickard was the son of a wealthy merchant and was set to inherit a large fortune on his father’s death, he had a sister – Catherine – whom Ian had never taken much interest in. She was a free-spirited woman, with a sharp intellect, and Ian had always rather fancied that she was like he himself, a woman with no intention of ever allying herself to a man, just as he had no intention of allying himself to a woman.
“You mean marriage? No, Rickard, have you not listened to a word I have said? I have no intention of marrying anyone, not after my experiences with Cassandra. She left me broken-hearted and I do not think I can ever trust a woman again, certainly not to place a ring on her finger. That much is certain,” he said, draining the contents of his punch glass.
“Then we must not leave the evening idle then, my friend. If it is not marriage that you aspire to, then may I suggest we discover the delights available to us here. If we remain by the punchbowl the entire evening, then we may find that there are only the plainest of women left,” Rickard said, pointing to a group of young ladies awaiting their turn on the dance floor.
“But remember what I said, Rickard. Dance only with them tonight and take what fleeting pleasures they offer in the immediacy of time. Nothing more and nothing less,” Ian replied, rising to his feet, ready to see what fleeting delights might be his, and determined never to allow another woman to treat him as Cassandra once did.
