‘That is very kind of you, Mr Arrandale, but we are not going directly home. I promised Ellen that we would do a little shopping in Milsom Street. To buy ribbons.’
Richard was not surprised at the lady’s response. She suspected his motives and it would be as well if he did not press his suit any further today. He was about to bow and take his leave when he noticed Sir Charles Urmston strolling towards them. He was coming from the direction of Pulteney Bridge but Richard did not doubt that he would turn back to escort the ladies to Milsom Street, given the chance. Richard had no intention of allowing him the opportunity, if he could help it.
He smiled. ‘Then allow me to escort you there. I am very good at choosing ribbons.’
‘Thank you.’ Phyllida shook her head. ‘However, we could not impose upon you any longer today.’
‘Oh, I am sure it could not be an imposition,’ put in Lady Wakefield, who overheard this exchange and had clearly fallen under Richard Arrandale’s spell. ‘I am old-fashioned enough to think it a good thing to have a gentleman’s escort when one walks about town, even in Bath.’
‘Oh, yes, pray do come with us, Mr Arrandale,’ said Ellen, just as Phyllida was about to make a firm denial. ‘I have seen a bonnet that I should like to buy. The milliner told me it is in the latest London fashion but I am not so sure, and I would value your opinion.’
‘Then I shall be happy to give it,’ he responded promptly.
‘There you are then,’ declared Lady Wakefield, smiling. ‘We shall bid you good day, Lady Phyllida.’
Phyllida pressed her lips together, trying to hide her dismay as Lady Wakefield went off with Julia and Adrian. Richard held out his arms.
‘Well, ladies, shall we go on?’
His laughing glance made Phyllida grind her teeth but she had no choice, she must accept gracefully. The alternative would be to face questions from Ellen, questions which she had no intention of answering with Richard Arrandale standing by. Such was her distraction that when they passed Sir Charles Urmston in Argyle Street, her response to his pleasant greeting was no more than a distant nod.
Phyllida said little as they made their way to Milsom Street, allowing Ellen to chatter on. When they reached the milliners Richard accompanied them inside to inspect the bonnet that had caught Ellen’s eye. It was a ruched bronze-satin creation decorated with an overabundance of flowers and tassels. Phyllida declared she thought it far from tasteful, but it was the doubtful look on Richard’s face that made Ellen change her mind and decide the bonnet was not for her after all. Phyllida was relieved, but perturbed by the thought that she should be grateful to Richard Arrandale.
They went on to the haberdashers, where Ellen browsed the rainbow of coloured ribbons that the assistant spread out for her inspection. There was barely room for two people to stand together at the counter and Phyllida hesitated before stepping back to let Richard move in and advise Ellen on her choice. Let that be his reward for dissuading her from buying the unsuitable bonnet.
Phyllida stood out of the way by a side door until Ellen had made her purchase, then she accompanied them out of the shop.
‘Well...’ She smiled. ‘Which ribbon did you decide upon?’
‘This one.’ Ellen opened the package to show Phyllida. ‘I could not decide between this and the primrose but in the end I chose the cornflower blue. Is it not a lovely colour?’ She added in an innocent voice, ‘Mr Arrandale said this matches my eyes.’
Ellen’s laughing glance was somewhat reassuring. Phyllida knew her stepdaughter was not taken in by such compliments. Not yet.
‘And he is right,’ she agreed, keeping her tone cool. ‘Shall we go on?’
They had not gone many yards down Milsom Street when Ellen gave a loud sigh.
‘Is it not always the same? Now that I have left the shop I am sure I should have bought the primrose ribbon as well as the blue.’
‘Well, it is too late to return now,’ said Phyllida. ‘I think it is going to rain. ‘Let us get on now, we can always come back tomorrow.’
Richard stopped.
‘I have an errand of my own to run,’ he said. ‘If you would like to continue with your shopping, I shall catch you up.’
He strode away before they had time to argue. Ellen giggled.
‘I do believe he is going back to buy the primrose ribbon for me.’
‘Oh, I hope not,’ said Phyllida. ‘I really do not wish to be beholden to Mr Arrandale.’
‘For a few pennies’ worth of ribbon?’ declared Ellen. ‘What harm can there be in that?’
‘He is not related to us, Ellen.’
‘But he is related to Lady Hune, who is a great friend of yours,’ argued Ellen.
They walked on, gazing into shop windows, marvelling at the variety of goods available in Bath and before too long Richard caught up with them.
‘Here we are.’ He handed Ellen a small packet. ‘Your primrose ribbons, Miss Tatham. And for you, ma’am,’ He handed a second even smaller package to Phyllida.
Peeping inside she saw a neatly rolled length of dark-green ribbon.
‘I thought of the gown you were wearing the first time I saw you,’ he murmured. ‘The colour became you so well.’ She raised her brows and he quickly corrected himself. ‘The first time I saw you in Bath, I mean.’
‘Oh?’ Ellen was immediately attentive. ‘I did not know you were already acquainted.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Richard nodded. ‘I knew your stepmama at her come-out. We danced together at Almack’s.’
His blue eyes bored into Phyllida, challenging her to contradict him, but in truth she could not speak, for his look heated her blood and sent her imagination skittering towards secret trysts and stolen kisses. Outrageous thoughts that had no place in a chaperon’s mind.
‘Oh, that is famous!’ cried Ellen, ‘Phyllida, why did you not tell me? If that is so I am sure there can be no objection at all to accepting Mr Arrandale’s gifts. I am very grateful for my ribbons, thank you, sir. Philly? Are you not going to thank Mr Arrandale?’
‘Well, Lady Phyllida?’
His eyes continued to hold her gaze, saying so much more than words. In their blue depths gleamed a mixture of amusement and understanding, an invitation for her to share the joke, to accept his friendship. Perhaps even more than that. All of it lies, of course. She had to believe that, or she was lost.
* * *
Richard waited for her answer. It would not have surprised him if she had handed the ribbon back but in the end she thanked him, albeit grudgingly, and they continued on their way. He escorted the ladies to Charles Street, left them at the door and turned to make his way back to Queen Square, well satisfied with his progress.
As soon as they were indoors, Phyllida dashed off to her bedchamber, saying there were letters she must write. She knew Ellen would want know about her acquaintance with Richard Arrandale and she needed to prepare her answers. She kept to her room and was thus able to avoid saying anything at all until after dinner.
When they were alone in the drawing room, Ellen placed a footstool before Phyllida’s chair and sat down upon it.
‘Now,’ she said, taking Phyllida’s hands, ‘why did you not tell me you and Mr Arrandale were old friends?’
‘We are not,’ Phyllida replied. ‘We are acquaintances, merely.’
‘But he says you danced together. Did you know him before you met Papa?’
‘I met them at the same time. It was my come-out. One dances with a lot of gentlemen in one’s first Season, as you will discover when we go to town next year.’
Ellen was not to be distracted. ‘And was Mr Arrandale as handsome as he is now?’
Phyllida had been managing rather well to stay calm and matter of fact, but this question caught her off guard. Her cheeks burned. She had not blushed for years, bu
t these days she could not stop!
‘I—I suppose he must have been. I really cannot remember.’
But she could. She recalled every painful, tongue-tied moment she had spent with him. He had been charmingly polite, while she had been unable to do more than utter one or two stilted sentences.
‘I knew it!’ Ellen clapped her hands. ‘You fell in love with him!’
‘I did not!’
‘Then why are you blushing?’
Phyllida managed to laugh. ‘I was remembering what a gauche, awkward creature I was in those days.’ That much at least was true. ‘Now, Ellen, it is most improper for you to quiz me on this. As I told you, a girl in her first Season meets a lot of gentlemen but once she is married she forgets them all. I was very happy with your father, and I hope he was happy with me.’
‘But it was not a love match, was it?’ Ellen persisted. ‘I was only twelve years old at the time but I remember people saying so.’
‘Not everyone marries for love, Ellen, and not every family is as happy as we were at Tatham Park.’
Phyllida thought back to her own childhood. She was a younger daughter and not particularly pretty. She had also been painfully shy and constantly afraid of incurring her parents’ displeasure. It had been a relief when Sir Evelyn had offered for her and by the time her parents died two years later she was happily settled with Sir Evelyn. At his coaxing she had left off the pale pinks and blues her mother had chosen for her and given up the nightly ritual of tying up her hair in rags to produce a mass of unbecoming ringlets. Now she wore her hair swept up smoothly with only a few soft curls falling on to her neck. Sir Evelyn had given her a great deal, including confidence.
She said now, ‘Be assured that I was much more comfortable with your father than I had ever been at home.’
‘That is because they bullied you,’ replied Ellen. ‘Did they force you to marry Papa?’
‘Not at all, but I was expected to marry well.’
‘Well, that is quite, quite Gothic,’ declared Ellen. ‘I shall not allow anyone to force me into marriage.’
She looked so absurdly young that Phyllida smiled. She squeezed her hands.
‘I hope when the time comes you will fall in love, Ellen, but I also hope you will not be in too much of a hurry to do so.’
‘Oh, no. I am enjoying myself far too much to think of such things yet.’
Phyllida was relieved to hear this, but she did not say so and turned Ellen’s thoughts by asking her what she intended to wear to the Italian concert the following evening.
* * *
To Phyllida’s secret pride, Ellen was proving to be universally popular. The house in Charles Street was besieged by visitors and there were entertainments every day. It was becoming clear that several gentlemen were vying for Ellen’s attention, including Richard Arrandale, and Phyllida was relieved, if a little surprised, that the other young ladies of Bath were not more jealous of her success. However, she was perturbed to see how much attention the gentlemen lavished upon Ellen and could only be glad that her stepdaughter appeared to take it all in her stride.
Phyllida insisted that Ellen should be chaperoned at all times. When the party comprised young people under the aegis of careful mamas like Mrs Desborough or Lady Wakefield Phyllida was happy to allow Ellen to go unattended, but at the public breakfasts and dances Phyllida was always there to ensure no gentleman stepped out of line. As an heiress, Phyllida had always known Ellen would attract attention, but there were a number of married men amongst her admirers, and that was a puzzle.
Her puzzlement turned to concern when they attended the recital at the Assembly Rooms the evening following their walk in Sydney Gardens and Phyllida returned from a break for refreshments to find her stepdaughter in an antechamber with Mr Cromby. The gentleman was holding Ellen’s hand and paying her the most fulsome compliments. Phyllida lost no time in carrying Ellen away, but when she remonstrated with Ellen later she merely laughed.
‘We were only a step away from the main room, Philly. You really did not need to worry. We had gentlemen far older than Mr Cromby flirting with us at Mrs Ackroyd’s Academy.’
‘That is not the point,’ objected Phyllida, despairing. ‘Bath is a hotbed of gossip and you will do your reputation no good at all if people think you fast.’
In no wise chastened, Ellen threw her arms about Phyllida and hugged her.
‘Very well, I will try to behave, for your sake, darling Stepmama. But I do enjoy being the centre of so much attention!’
* * *
There was no doubt that Ellen was indeed in demand. The parties and entertainments, together with Ellen’s dancing, singing and Italian lessons, gave Phyllida little time for leisure. Ellen thrived upon the activity and Phyllida made sure she was always accompanied whenever she stepped out of the door. However, she soon discovered that even the presence of Ellen’s maid did not keep Richard Arrandale away. She was in the morning room waiting for Ellen to return from her dancing lesson when she saw him pass the window with Ellen on his arm. He left Ellen at the door but Phyllida watched in growing alarm as he raised Ellen’s fingers to his lips before striding away.
Phyllida was dismayed at her reaction to this gesture but she was honest enough to admit that the emotion uppermost in her was envy. She stifled it immediately, composing herself as Ellen burst into the morning room with her sunny smile quite undimmed.
‘Did I see Mr Arrandale at the door with you?’ Phyllida kept her voice light, determined not to show undue anxiety.
‘Yes. We met in Wood Street and he insisted upon escorting me home. Was that not kind of him?’
‘Yes, very.’
She said no more at the time, but as the conversation moved on Phyllida knew she must speak to Matlock about the matter.
* * *
However, when she did so Matty’s response was typically blunt.
‘What would you have me do, my lady? Miss Ellen greeted him like a friend and I could hardly forbid him to walk with us. And even if it had been in my power I would not have done so, for nothing is more certain to make a spirited girl want something than to tell her she can’t have it.’
Phyllida nodded. ‘I am well aware of that, Matlock. And Miss Ellen is definitely spirited.’
‘But nothing untoward happened,’ added the maid. ‘I can assure you of that, ma’am. In fact, I was pleasantly surprised in Mr Arrandale, after all I had heard about the man.’
‘Oh, Matty, pray do not tell me you are falling under his spell, too.’
The older woman gave a grim little smile.
‘No, no, I’m too long in the tooth to be taken in by a handsome face, my lady, but credit where ’tis due, the gentleman never said anything out o’ place while he was escorting Miss Ellen. And he made no attempt to lower his voice to avoid my hearing it, either.’
‘Well, perhaps there is some good in the man, after all,’ murmured Phyllida, but she added, her suspicions not completely allayed, ‘Or perhaps he is playing a deep game.’
Chapter Five
Phyllida had still not made up her mind about Richard Arrandale by the time they rode to Farleigh the following Monday. Her groom Parfett brought the horses around from the livery stables, warning that they were very lively since they had not been ridden for some time. Phyllida was soon in control of Sultan, her own rangy chestnut gelding, but she watched anxiously as Ellen’s spirited grey mare pranced and sidestepped playfully.
‘No need to worry about Miss Ellen,’ said Parfett, observing Phyllida’s frown. ‘You know there wasn’t a horse in her father’s stable she couldn’t master. She’s at home to a peg.’
As if to prove him correct, the mare quickly grew quiet under Ellen’s confident handling and they set off to meet up with the rest of the party at Laura Place, where they found the Wakefields
already mounted and waiting for them.
‘Our little riding party has grown to nine, Lady Phyllida,’ Lady Wakefield greeted her with a cheerful smile. She waved her hand towards the pretty brunette talking with Julia and Adrian. ‘Mrs Desborough has allowed Penelope to join us, and Mr Henry Fullingham came up to me just yesterday and begged to be allowed to join us. Here he comes now, with Mr Arrandale.’
Phyllida looked back to see the two gentlemen approaching. Surely it was not merely her fancy that of the two men, Richard had the advantage? It was not only his superior height, nor the way his blue riding coat moulded to his form. He looked relaxed and at home in the saddle, completely in control of the powerful black hunter he was riding. She thought it could not be a livery-stable horse, and this was soon confirmed when Mr Arrandale rode up to Lady Wakefield as the party prepared to set off.
‘I do not know the country,’ he said. ‘Will we be able to give the horses their heads? I was going to hire a hack, but in the end I sent for my hunter. He has been eating his head off at Brookthorn Manor and could do with the exercise.’
‘There are a couple of places one can gallop, although Wakefield and I will not do so,’ replied the lady. ‘And I should warn you that Miss Desborough and Julia are rather nervous riders, so I pray you will not encourage them to join you.’
Phyllida knew Ellen was anything but nervous and would undoubtedly wish to gallop across the country with the gentlemen. She made up her mind that if Lord and Lady Wakefield would not accompany them, then it would be up to her to do so. She patted Sultan’s glossy neck, reflecting that neither she nor her mount would consider it a penance to career across the countryside.
They rode out of Bath at a sedate pace. Mr Fullingham and Mr Arrandale both looked as if they would like to ride with Ellen but she remained happily between Phyllida and Penelope Desborough. Phyllida considered the picture they must make. Penelope’s plum-coloured habit was sober enough, but Ellen’s sky-blue velvet with its matching hat was quite eye-catching, and there was no doubt that the colour accentuated her flawless complexion and shining curls. Phyllida thought her own dove-grey habit must look very dull by comparison and was obliged to stifle a pang of regret. She felt a little envious, then scolded herself for such nonsense. As a girl she would never have been confident enough to choose bright colours, even if Mama had allowed it. She glanced again at her kerseymere skirts. She was out of mourning now, there was no reason why she shouldn’t order a new riding habit. Something a little more...showy.
The Chaperon's Seduction Page 7
