‘Mr Arrandale, what a surprise to find you here,’ declared Ellen when she saw him approaching, not long after they had entered the gardens.
‘Yes, isn’t it,’ muttered Phyllida.
‘We are going to the labyrinth,’ explained Julia Wakefield.
‘Then I will walk with you, if I may.’
‘But we are going in the opposite direction to you, Mr Arrandale,’ Lady Phyllida pointed out. ‘Are you sure you have time?’
He ignored the challenge in her eyes and replied with a smile as false as her own, ‘All the time in the world, ma’am.’
He turned to walk with Ellen but Phyllida stepped between them.
‘Then that is very civil of you, Mr Arrandale.’
She proceeded to converse with him as they strolled along the wide path. Occasionally they were obliged to move aside to allow a carriage to pass, but every time they recommenced their walk she was there, at his side, and engaging him in conversation.
He wondered briefly if she was trying to fix his interest, following their time together at Farleigh Castle but he soon dismissed the thought. Then she had been open and relaxed with him. Now her cool friendliness did not ring true. She was on her guard and he thought it much more likely that she was suspicious of his motives. Clearly she did not intend to allow him a chance to converse with either of the young ladies and he knew better than to attempt it. When they arrived at the labyrinth he thought it politic not to offer to accompany them inside, and prepared to take his leave.
‘Oh, but you must stay and keep Phyllida company,’ Ellen protested. ‘She does not like the maze and means to wait for us outside.’
‘No, Ellen, that will not be necessary. I am sure Mr Arrandale has better things to do with his time.’
Lady Phyllida’s answer was delivered firmly. Clearly it was designed to dismiss him. He knew he should retire with good grace but his particular devil prompted him to stay.
‘I should be delighted to wait for you, Miss Tatham.’ He patted his pocket. ‘And I have a plan of the labyrinth, so if you get lost you only need to call out and I shall come to your aid.’
Phyllida’s eyes sparkled with indignation, but Ellen was duly admiring.
‘How gallant, and enterprising,’ she remarked. ‘Come along, Julia. Phyllida, pray you, wait on that bench for us—we will not be too long.’
* * *
The girls ran off, leaving Phyllida with Richard Arrandale. It was the first time they had been alone together since the chapel at Farleigh, when she had come close to making a complete fool of herself. It had not been mentioned, of course, and since then she had been careful to keep a distance between them. Until today, when she had put herself in his way and kept him talking. She had not been comfortable about it, but she was determined that he should not be allowed to give his arm to Ellen or Julia Wakefield.
She had to admit that he had taken it in good part and had behaved like the perfect gentleman, conversing with her as if there was nothing he would rather do. He had a knack of setting her at her ease, of making her feel important. Cherished. That was what made it so difficult to dislike him.
Yet it did not mean she should encourage him. She moved towards a bench.
‘I must not take up any more of your time, Mr Arrandale, so I will bid you good day.’
‘I assure you, Lady Phyllida, I am at your disposal.’
She sat down, saying with finality, ‘Really, Mr Arrandale, it is not at all necessary for you to wait with me.’
‘But I have a plan of the labyrinth.’
It gave her no little satisfaction to respond, tapping her reticule. ‘So, too, have I.’
‘Ah.’
It was then she made the mistake of peeping up at him. She saw his rueful look and burst out laughing.
‘Admit it, sir, you have been brought to the point non plus. There is no reason to stay now.’
‘Would you have me be so unchivalrous as to agree with you?’ he said, sitting down on the bench beside her. ‘It has never been my practice to abandon a lady when she is on her own.’
‘But I shall not be on my own once the girls return.’
‘Then I shall keep you company until then.’
His cool response flustered her.
‘But I do not wish for your company.’
He shifted to the far end of the bench and twisted in his seat to look at her, resting one hand negligently along the backrest. Phyllida remained rigidly upright, staring straight ahead. He really was the most infuriating man. Well, she hoped he appreciated her profile.
‘We could converse,’ he said at last.
‘We have already done so, on the way here.’
‘But there must be something we have not yet talked about.’
‘No.’
She could feel the warmth of his gaze upon her. It sent little shards of excitement to pierce the armour of cool civility with which she had surrounded herself. If only he would go away! She recalled reading somewhere that the best form of defence was attack and she turned to face him.
‘Yes, there is something. Why do you remain in Bath, Mr Arrandale?’
‘I enjoy spending time with my great-aunt.’
‘Is that truly the reason?’ She subjected him to a searching look.
‘Yes, truly. She was laid very low when Cassandra eloped, and I know how cruel the gossipmongers can be. None better.’ He raised his brows. ‘You look sceptical, Lady Phyllida. Do you not believe me?’
She pursed her lips.
‘I can believe you came to Lady Hune’s assistance when she wrote to you, but she is much better now and the image of you playing companion to an elderly lady does not quite fit with your reputation.’
‘Perhaps you should not put too much store by all you hear of me, ma’am. I am extremely fond of Lady Hune. When I was younger she was the only one of my family who had any faith in me and while she needs me I shall remain in Bath.’
‘But it is hardly London, is it? Do you not find it dull here? After all, Lady Hune demands very little of your time.’
‘True, but there are gambling hells, if one knows where to look, and—’
‘And heiresses to chase.’
‘That is not what I was going to say.’
‘No, I thought I would save you the trouble.’
‘There is sufficient society in Bath to entertain me for a few weeks, Lady Phyllida. I am not so very exacting.’
Oh, heavens, he was smiling at her, just as he had done in the chapel at Farleigh. She could feel the tug of attraction building again. It must not, could not happen. With relief she heard Ellen and Julia’s girlish laughter near at hand. It gave her the strength to look away and she observed the girls running towards her.
‘We lost all track of the time, Lady Phyllida,’ said Julia guiltily. ‘I do hope we were not gone too long.’
Phyllida rose to her feet and replied with determined cheerfulness, ‘Not at all. I am glad I did not have to resort to my map to find you and bring you out. However, we had best be getting back now.’ She turned to Richard. ‘We can trespass on your time no longer, sir. I am going to escort Miss Julia home now.’
‘Too soon, Lady Phyllida. My way lies with you. It would look very odd if I were to follow you all the way to Laura Place, would it not?’
‘It would indeed.’ Ellen giggled.
She showed no desire to release Julia’s arm in favour of Richard Arrandale’s, which relieved Phyllida’s mind of its greatest worry, but the gentleman was in no way discomposed and merely fell into step beside Phyllida, which threw up quite a different anxiety.
She felt such conflicting emotions about this man. She knew he was a rake and even though she suspected—nay, she was sure—he was pursuing Ellen, she could not dislike him. Just having
him at her side set her pulse jumping. She thought it would be easier if she cut the acquaintance altogether, but that might well precipitate the thing she was most anxious to avoid. Phyllida knew Ellen liked Richard Arrandale, but at present it was no more than that. If Phyllida was to forbid Ellen to have anything more to do with him she was very much afraid it would invest Richard with an air of danger and illicit excitement that a spirited young girl would find irresistible.
Her companion showed no desire to talk, so Phyllida was able to consider her dilemma in peace, until she realised they had traversed almost the length of Great Pulteney Street in silence. Even worse, Ellen and Julia were nowhere in sight.
‘They hurried on ahead and are by now at Lady Wakefield’s house,’ Richard told her, as if aware of her alarm.
He kept up with her easily as she quickened her step and they reached the Wakefields’ door just as the two girls emerged and Julia very prettily requested that Ellen might join them for dinner.
‘I have asked Mama,’ she added, ‘and she says she will send Ellen home in the carriage, if you will allow it, Lady Phyllida.’
Ellen clasped her hands and subjected Phyllida to a beseeching look.
‘Please tell me I may stay, darling Stepmama. And I am sure Mr Arrandale will accompany you, so you need have no worry about walking back to Charles Street unattended.’
‘I should be delighted to escort Lady Phyllida,’ he responded promptly.
Ellen beamed at him.
‘Then it is all settled to everyone’s satisfaction!’ Ellen reached up and gave Phyllida a hasty kiss on the cheek, then ran indoors with Julia.
Speechless, Phyllida watched them go. This was not at all to her satisfaction. Richard held out his arm to her and silently she placed her fingers on his sleeve. They began to walk.
‘Are you going to tell me that you are quite capable of walking back to Charles Street unattended?’
‘I should not say anything so uncivil,’ she replied loftily.
‘That’s put me in my place.’
She caught herself up on a laugh.
‘You are quite shameless, you know.’
‘I fear you are right. And I am going to prove it by asking you why you married Tatham.’
* * *
It was an impertinent question and Richard wondered if he had gone too far. She had every right to protest. She might even snatch her arm away and refuse to walk further with him. Instead she answered him quietly.
‘Because he offered for me. I didn’t take, you see, amongst the ton, but I had very little to recommend me. If you really do remember then you will know how gauche and awkward I was then.’
‘So Sir Evelyn proposed.’
‘Yes. He was rich, but he was also kind, much kinder to me than my parents were. To them I was nothing more than a commodity, to be used to the family’s best advantage.’
Richard’s jaw clenched tight. Knowing his world he was well aware of what might have happened to her, sold to the highest bidder.
‘And was it a good marriage?’
‘I think so. I believe I made Sir Evelyn happy, even though I failed to give him the heir he wanted.’
‘I am not interested in Tatham,’ he said roughly. ‘What about you, were you happy?’
She smiled. ‘Why, yes, why should I not be?’
‘Did you love him?’
The little hand resting on his sleeve trembled.
‘I did not dislike him, and that is very important.’
Her cool, reasonable response angered him. Smothering a curse he stopped and pulled her round to face him.
‘How old are you, Lady Phyllida?’
She blinked. ‘I am four-and-twenty, not that it is any concern of yours!’
‘No, but it concerns me that you should be dwindling into widowhood before you have even lived.’
‘Mr Arrandale, I assure you I am not at all unhappy with my lot.’
He shook his head at her.
‘I saw your face when we raced the horses the other day. How often have you felt like that? When was the last time you really enjoyed yourself, dancing ’til dawn, walking in the moonlight, being kissed senseless—?’
Her eyes widened at that and she drew away from him.
‘You should not be talking to me in this way.’ She looked around. ‘We—we are at Charles Street. Thank you for your escort. Forgive me if I do not ask you to come in.’
With that she left him, almost running the last few yards to her door, where she was soon lost to sight.
Damn, damn, damn! What was he thinking of? Richard turned on his heel and strode away. He was supposed to be making a friend of her, preparing the ground so that she would support him when he made Ellen an offer. Instead he was saying all the wrong things.
What in hell’s name had got into him?
* * *
September advanced and the invitations continued to flood into Charles Street, including an urgent message one morning from Mrs Desborough, inviting them to take advantage of the continuing good weather to drive out of town and enjoy a picnic that very day. The Wakefields were going, which made Ellen keen to go and even Phyllida found the idea too tempting to resist.
‘I always think these things are so much better impromptu,’ declared Lady Wakefield as they made themselves comfortable on the rugs and cushions spread out upon the grass. ‘I am so pleased Mrs Desborough suggested it, and such a pleasant spot, too.’
Phyllida could not deny the spot was indeed delightful, a sloping meadow near the little village of Claverton, but she was not quite so happy with some of the company. Mrs Desborough had laughingly explained that Mr Fullingham had come upon her as they were about to set off.
She continued. ‘I had not the heart to say him nay, not when young Mr Wakefield had already asked Mr Arrandale to join us. After all, there is space enough here for everyone, is there not?’
‘And you have refreshments enough for an army,’ chuckled her fond spouse, eyeing the array of hampers set out before them. ‘But it is not only good food she has arranged for us, is that not so, my dear?’
‘Well, I did think that afterwards the young people might like to gather blackberries. The hedgerow is positively thick with them.’ She chuckled and beckoned to one of the servants who came forward. ‘You see I have brought three small baskets for you to fill, and to save you young ladies ruining your gowns there are aprons for you to put on.’
Lady Wakefield laughed. ‘Then there can be no objection. You have thought of everything, ma’am!’
* * *
They dined well on cold meats and cakes washed down with wine or small beer, but soon the effects of good food and the heat of the day took their toll. The party became less noisy and conversation began to die away to a soft murmur that Phyllida found quite soporific. Her eyelids were beginning to droop when she heard Penelope Desborough’s eager voice.
‘May we go and collect blackberries now, Mama?’
Mrs Desborough and Lady Wakefield were nodding sleepily, their spouses already snoring gently in the warm sunshine. As the young ladies donned their aprons Phyllida glanced across at the hedgerow. It meandered away for quite some distance and she was suddenly struck with misgiving. Of course, the gentlemen might not go to help, but Mr Fullingham was already on his feet, followed quickly by Adrian Wakefield and Richard Arrandale.
She jumped up, which caused Mrs Desborough to exclaim, ‘What’s this, Lady Phyllida, do you wish to collect berries too? I made sure you would want to rest a little.’
‘No, no, I am not at all tired,’ Phyllida assured her.
Mrs Desborough sat upright, looking perturbed.
‘But there are only three baskets, and I have no more aprons, ma’am, your gown—’
‘Oh, that is of no conseque
nce,’ she replied airily.
Ellen laughed. ‘I doubt if Matlock will agree with you, Philly! But never mind that. Here, you may have my basket, and I shall share with Penelope.’
The arrangements settled, they moved off towards the hedgerow.
Richard fell into step beside her.
‘Three gentlemen, four ladies,’ he murmured.
‘Even numbers are not required for berry picking, Mr Arrandale.’
‘Nor is a chaperon, Lady Phyllida.’
She put up her chin. ‘That, sir, depends upon the company.’
* * *
Ellen had stopped by the hedge and her voice floated across on the still air.
‘Adrian, will you help me and Penelope to fill our basket?’
Mr Fullingham stepped up. ‘Allow me, Miss Tatham—’
‘Ah, sir, I was hoping you would help Julia, because you see that she cannot quite reach those berries at the very top, there, and they look so delicious...’
He was subjected to a dazzling smile and Phyllida smothered a laugh as the gentleman went off to do as he was bid. She glanced towards Richard and saw that he was grinning at her. Caught off guard, she blushed and looked away, but her confusion increased when she heard Ellen’s next words.
‘That leaves Mr Arrandale to help Phyllida.’
That could not please him any more than it pleased Phyllida. He would surely protest. She waited, but after a brief hesitation he swept a low bow.
‘Your wish is my command, Miss Tatham.’
Phyllida glared at him and without another word she hurried away to begin filling her basket.
* * *
Mrs Desborough was right, the tall hedgerows were thick with ripe blackberries and Phyllida worked steadily. Her gloves were soon stained with berry juice and she had to take care to prevent herself from becoming caught up on the brambles. Richard Arrandale was only feet away from her. His body and the lush, straggling hedgerow hid the others from her sight although their voices floated to her from time to time. They were distant, unimportant. All that mattered, all that she could think of, was the man beside her. He had removed his gloves to pick the fruit and she found herself watching his long lean fingers as they gently plucked each soft, plump berry.
The Chaperon's Seduction Page 10
