The Virgin in the Rake’s Bed by Ava MacAdams

Chapter Nine

Catherine did not sleep well that night. She tossed and turned, eventually getting up when her attempts at sleep became too arduous to bear. She was excited about the prospect of her walk with Ian – too excited, she told herself, and she gave herself a good talking to, reminding herself that it was merely a walk in the park and nothing else. The force of her feelings surprised her, and she could not rid herself of that niggling notion that her heart and mind were in different places.

Her father had been right to claim that she was infatuated. It was not difficult to realize it, even though she had tried hard to resist. In the short time since their liaison in the library, Catherine had thought of little else except Ian, and she wondered if he felt the same way about her. But the answer to that question was obvious enough. To him, all of this was merely a game, just as had been her intention. But the stirrings in her heart, and the feelings there aroused, were very real, and she wondered how best to deal with them.

“So, are you meeting Ian again soon?” Rickard asked, when Catherine met him on the stairs that morning. She had bathed and dressed in best gown, a pretty bonnet slung in her hand, and a smile on her face. She was on her way to the park to meet Ian, and she blushed at the obvious assumption her brother had made.

“Well… he is my betrothed,” she said, and Rickard smiled.

“Yes, it is all very convenient, is it not?” he said, and Catherine’s expression changed.

“And what do you mean by that?” she demanded, hitching up her skirts and making her way down to the hallway with Rickard in pursuit.

“Only that it has all occurred rather suddenly, do you not think? And for neither father nor I to be aware of it. Well, it is all rather strange, that is all,” he said, as Catherine turned to him indignantly.

“I do not need your opinion on the matter, Rickard. It is settled. Besides, I would have thought you might have been pleased for me. Ian is your friend, is he not? Do you not take some delight in the thought of a close confidant entering the family?” she asked, as one of the maids brought her gloves to her.

The relationship between Catherine and Rickard had never been close. He had been sent away to school at an early age and had spent his later youth at Oxford, whilst Catherine had stayed with a governess before attending a finishing school in Bath. Sister and brother were hardly recognizable as such, and whilst Catherine took after her mother, Rickard possessed many of their father’s more undesirable traits, especially when it came to ambition.

“I am sure that I am pleased for you,” he said, in a tone which indicated quite the opposite.

“But?” she asked, pulling on her gloves and fixing him with a glare.

“But the Earl of Westwood was a most attractive proposition. His title alone…” Rickard began, but Catherine interrupted him.

“Oh, I see. It is all about the title,” Catherine replied, waving her hand dismissively.

“I did not mean…” he began, but Catherine had heard enough.

Like father, like son. Rickard was only interested in Catherine’s marriage intentions for the sake of the title he thought might be his had she married an Earl. Where these mysterious titles were supposed to have emerged from was quite beyond Catherine’s comprehension, but both her father and brother were intent on securing the best possible advantage for themselves – whatever her own feelings might be.

“I will be back later,” she called out, not waiting for the footman, but flinging open the front door and hurrying down the steps, where a carriage was waiting to take her to the park, accompanied again by Jenny who was to act as chaperone from a discreet distance.

Catherine had heard enough. She was tired of her father and brother interfering in her affairs. Why was it, she wondered, that men thought it their right to meddle in anything concerning the matrimonial affairs of a female relative? She was tired of their opinions and would not, for a moment, entertain them. Her father could do all the digging he wished, and if he found something out about Ian, then so be it – Ian himself did not seem to mind.

* * *

The park was busy that day, its wide boulevards filled with fashionable ladies and gentlemen promenading the morning away, and Catherine instructed the carriage driver to wait for her at the gates, beside which she now stood, glancing up and down for a sight of Ian coming toward her. Her heart was beating fast, and she felt silly at the nerves which rose in the pit of her stomach and made her feel quite queasy.

“It is only a walk in the park,” she repeated to herself, just as a familiar voice called out to her from across the way.

“Miss Ferguson, I am sorry I am a few moments late. I was delayed on business,” Ian said, hurrying up to her.

He was dressed in a most dandy and fashionable manner, in a long blue frock coat with a yellow cravat at the neck. It made him look ever so handsome, and Catherine blushed as she took the arm he offered her, pleased to be caught up in the illusion which now they intended to continue. She had not expected him to play the part so well, expecting them to perhaps appear once or twice together at some dull soiree or social occasion at which they could be seen and thus fulfill societal expectation. But this seemed almost like an encounter of pleasure, rather than of necessity.

“I have only just arrived myself. I was delayed by Rickard,” she said, and Ian laughed.

“Let me think now, was he trying his best to dissuade you from our matrimonial plans?” he asked, and Catherine laughed.

“Now you mention it, yes, he was,” she replied, and Ian shook his head.

“He is insufferable. He was most put out that I had not informed him of my intentions toward you. I told him it was none of his business whom I married. Whether it was his sister or not,” Ian replied, as the two of them now walked along a tree-lined boulevard which led to an ornamental lake in the center of the park.

“There is another reason for his displeasure, of course, and that of my father,” Catherine said, pausing and turning to Ian, who looked at her questioningly.

“The title?” he said, and she nodded.

“They both have it in mind that if I marry well, they too shall benefit, not only financially but also by a title, though how that is to be achieved, I do not know,” she said, sighing and shaking her head.

“So, your father does not believe that a Baron is worthy of his attentions? Especially one that he believes will have scandal attached to his name,” Ian said, laughing.

It was clear that he was treating the entire thing as a game, despite the seriousness of the matter in hand. Catherine wondered if there was more to what he thought than he was letting on, and she wondered too what his feelings toward her really were. Had he ever noticed her before, and if so, had he noticed her in a romantic manner? She would have liked to ask, but even Catherine was not bold enough to do so, content instead to walk on his arm toward the lake, joking together about Rickard’s strange obsession with rank and title.

“I am sure it must be more trouble than it is worth. I know that Samantha and Rebecca find their titles tiresome, those endless expectations, and all the dreadful people they have to entertain. No, I would not feel deprived if I was never married into the aristocracy,” Catherine said, and Ian laughed again.

“Mine is, as your father so rightly points out, a rather minor title, and hardly one worth concerning himself with. To be a Baron is hardly to have the responsibility of say an Earl or a Duke. I have an estate, of course, and property in London, but first and foremost I am a businessman, and my business does not require of me a title to conduct it. I would gladly give up the responsibility,” he said, as they came to the lake, where small pleasure boats were being rowed back and forth, and children were shrieking with delight at the sight of model ships catching the breeze with their sails.

Catherine was curious to learn more about him, even though she knew that over familiarity would surely breed only deeper feelings. Still, she had a questioning nature, and when they had taken a seat by the water’s edge, beneath a weeping willow casting its dappled shade over them, she questioned him as to his past, hoping to learn a little more about his present.

“You were not the inheritor of your father’s title at first though, were you?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“No, that was my brother, Stuart. He was the elder, and thus the title belonged to him. I grew up with no expectation of anything but what I could make for myself, which is perhaps why I have continued to make a success of things,” he said, smiling at her.

“It must have been terrible for you to lose him,” Catherine said, her words trailing off as she wondered whether she had said the right thing.

She knew that his brother had died, but the circumstances of the affair, its exact details, were somewhat unclear. There had been a scandal, something hushed up, but she was not entirely sure of the details.

“You are right,” he replied, “though I do not dwell on the matter. It was a terrible tragedy for us all. There is no justice in a brother dead and a woman lying alongside him. Whatever my feelings against them, such was not a fate they deserved,” he replied, sighing and shaking his head.

These words puzzled Catherine, but she did not like to press the matter further. She could not help but admire his fortitude in the face of tragedy. He had suffered a terrible loss, and perhaps it was not surprising that Ian Bennet should so often shy away from the possibility of romance and matrimony. He had lost a brother and a lover and to have been hurt in such a way once was surely to wish never to be hurt again. Catherine had no desire to push her feelings on him, however strongly they now arose.

It had taken her quite by surprise to feel herself enamored in such a way. Catherine was smitten, infatuated, caught up in her own wistful passions – call it what may – she had allowed her feelings to get the better for her, and all out of gratitude to a man she had barely known until a few days previously. She was enjoying playing the part of a betrothed woman, acting out her fantasy with all the skill of an actress – and she knew precisely what Ian thought of actresses. He had a past, one which was not entirely clear, but Catherine knew one thing, and that was that her own feelings were very much real in the present.

“It has surely caused you much pain ever since,” she said, and he nodded, turning to her and forcing a weak smile across his face.

“But it is in the past, and now it is the present and the future that matters,” he said, glancing around him at those promenading before them, and shaking his head with a smile.

“They are all quite ridiculous, are they not?” Catherine whispered, pointing to a woman who walked with her nose stuck in the air and a plume of ostrich feathers in her hair.

“Quite ridiculous, yes, and ever so predictably so. They are caught up in a lie that happiness is achieved merely through courtship and marriage, a lie which is sold to them throughout childhood and then forced to reveal itself at their debut. If a woman is not married after her second season, she is considered a failure, and the man who does marry – though he may exist as a bachelor for a while – is viewed eventually as an eccentric. Marriage, we are taught, is the one and only goal of each individual, a sacred destiny and woe betide anyone who disagrees,” he said, shaking his head.

“I could not agree more,” Catherine replied, for she herself had been the victim of such expectation, an expectation which was now to be forced on her, whether she liked it or not.

Catherine had known that marriage was her destiny ever since she had been old enough to understand what marriage was. Her mother – though she had loved her dearly – had talked of it incessantly. It was as though her aim, after her own marriage, was to secure a marriage for Catherine, and thus see her purposes in this life complete. It made Catherine shudder to think so, and she had long since vowed that if ever she herself should have a daughter, that daughter would make her own choices in life, come what may.

“But unfortunately, as you yourself have discovered, we are all of us caught up in the lie which the rest of the ton delight in. We have no other choice but to conform, and to see ourselves as mere pawns in the great game of society,” he said, rising to his feet and offering her his arm again.

Catherine had quite forgotten the purpose of their liaison in the park, so caught up was she in listening to him speak. She felt so at ease in his company, and that at last here was a gentleman who truly understood her feelings, rather than attempting to make his her own. They were entirely in harmony on matters of matrimony, and, as it turned out, on many other matters, too.

“You were to teach me some of the finer points of seduction,” Catherine said, suddenly realizing after several hours of promenading that it was for that reason they had agreed to meet.

“Ah, yes, of course. I had quite forgotten. I was so very much enjoying our conversation,” he said, turning to her with a smile.

They had left the path surrounding the ornamental lake and were walking down a boulevard lined with poplar trees and beds of the most exquisitely scented roses, the perfume filling the air. During this time, Catherine had been aware of Jenny – her maid – following them at a discreet distance. It was the lot of women of her class to find themselves chaperoned, as tiresome as it was.

“But we can hardly do so with a chaperone in tow now, can we,” Catherine said, glancing around to where Jenny was standing watching some hundred yards further back along the path.

“We could give her the slip,” Ian said, his eyes taking on a mischievous glint.

Catherine blushed. She cared little for the conventions of the ton, with its unwritten rules and dictates. She was enjoying herself, enjoying the sense of fun and freedom which being with Ian Bennet afforded her.

“We could run from her?” Catherine suggested, and Ian nodded.

“She will catch us up, but we could hide in the shrubbery, lead her on a merry chase. What say you?” he asked, and Catherine smiled.

“I say it would suit me very well,” she replied, and taking her by the hand, Ian suddenly darted off the path, pulling her with him as she gave a cry of delight. They plunged into the shrubbery, through the rhododendrons in their full bloom, and emerged into a clearing where birch trees grew up tall around them, startling a pair of blackbirds who were feeding on the grass.

“This way,” Ian said, beckoning her further away from the path.

Catherine was quite breathless, her dress covered in streaks of green stain and seeds from the birch trees. It was all very exciting, and she allowed herself to be caught up in the fantasy of their being lovers, escaping the eyes of the world to share a kiss, stolen in the seclusion of a garden. She had always dreamed of such encounters, even if she reminded herself she had no intention of anything more.

“She will not follow us,” Catherine said, glancing behind her at the seemingly impenetrable rhododendron bushes.

“I have come here before,” Ian said, looking around the clearing as though recalling some fond memory.

“With a lady?” she asked, and he laughed.

“I would not call her a lady,” he said, a slight smirk coming over his face, and Catherine blushed. She did not like to think of Ian’s past, though she knew very well of his reputation. He was a rake, albeit a pleasant one, and his past was littered with women who had come and gone like ships passing in the night. Should a woman behave in such a way she would be called a harlot, but for a man to do so meant only accolade and bravado, if perhaps something of a reputation.

“But you are to be married now. Your actions must be honorable,” Catherine said, smiling at him and wondering what was to come next.

“But then how am I to teach you the art of seduction if you are already seduced?” he asked, and Catherine felt her face flush red with embarrassment.

“Did I say I was seduced?” she asked, and he raised his eyebrows at her.

“I thought I had you in the library, but perhaps we should try again,” he replied, reaching out and taking her by the hand, as their lips moved close into a kiss.