‘No, ma’am, at myself, for being conceited enough to think you would wear my flowers.’ They crossed, turned, but she did not reply and he said anxiously, ‘Did they offend you?’
That brought her eyes up to his. The soft glow in them made his heart swell.
‘Offend? No, no. But I did not think it right to...’ She paused, her cherry lips firmly closed, as if reluctant to speak. She said, just before the dance parted them again, ‘I have them in water. On my dressing table.’
The idea of his flowers in such an intimate setting sent his imagination rioting and he almost missed his step. Phyllida moved away and they circled other dancers before coming back together. The dance obliged him to take her hand and pull her close, which suited him perfectly.
‘So you will think of me when you go to bed tonight.’
Colour flooded her cheeks and he felt the hot burn of desire in his blood. They separated again. It was a penance to smile at his next partner, to keep in time when he wanted to rush through the dance until he was beside Phyllida once more. When at last he did get back to her she was very composed and her eyes warned him to go carefully. He smiled. It should be as she wished. He would court her as he had never courted a woman before.
* * *
Phyllida’s heart was singing. She had never enjoyed a country dance more, never known a partner to regard her with just such a look as Richard was bestowing upon her. When he asked her to remain for the next dance her hesitation was brief. A quick glance showed her that Ellen was joining another of the sets so she could relax her duties as chaperon for a little longer and give herself up to the exquisite pleasure of dancing with the partner of her choice. Every look, every touch inflamed her and kept her heart fluttering like a captive bird. If he had taken her in his arms there, on the dance floor, she thought she might well have surrendered to him and thought the world well lost.
‘Now you are laughing,’ he murmured when at last the music ended. ‘May I share your amusement?’
‘No you may not,’ she replied, blushing and smiling at the same time.
‘Perhaps I can persuade you—no, I can see Wakefield bearing down upon us, and if I am not mistaken he means to steal you away from me.’ He squeezed her fingers briefly. ‘Until later, Lady Phyllida.’
She felt a momentary regret when he released her hand and turned to acknowledge Lord Wakefield’s cheerful greeting.
‘Come along, Arrandale, time for you to give way and allow the rest of us to dance with your charming partner.’ He bowed. ‘Ma’am, if you would do me the honour?’
‘With pleasure, my lord.’
Exhilarated and giddy as a schoolgirl, Phyllida slipped her hand on to Lord Wakefield’s arm. Richard Arrandale should see that he was not the only man she would dance with that evening.
* * *
Richard watched her walk away, noting the sway of her hips beneath the folds of her silken skirts. His eyes moved up to the creamy skin of her shoulders and the slender column of her neck, kissed by a few honey-coloured curls that had escaped from her swept-up hair. By Jove, how he wanted her, and soon! The garden beckoned him with the promise of the night air to cool his heated thoughts and he made his way towards the open doors. He did not rush, pausing for a word here, a smile there, but he would not be turned from his goal. A few ladies tried in vain to catch his eye and secure him as a partner but he ignored them all and soon gained the terrace. One or two couples were visible in the shadows but he paid them little heed as he ran lightly down the shallow steps into the garden, lit not only by the rising moon but myriad coloured lamps strung beneath and between the trees. The grounds were extensive and he headed away from the immediate lawn, looking for a pavilion or orangery, somewhere he might take Phyllida. He had no doubt he would be able to persuade her to walk outside with him, the glow in her eyes had told him she felt the attraction between them. He wanted—needed—to hold her, to kiss her, to discover if she felt the same overwhelming desire that consumed him. And if she did he would take her in his arms and kiss those soft, inviting lips, feel her body melt against his own—
This pleasant reverie was interrupted when he heard a rustling in the shrubbery. Some couple was taking advantage of the seclusion, no doubt. He would not disturb them.
‘Let go of me. Stop it!’
The angry whisper ended in a gasp. Richard stopped. The lady was clearly not willing. He shrugged, it was none of his business, yet he could not move on. There was something familiar about the female’s voice. He turned and stepped between the bushes. There, before him, was Ellen Tatham, struggling in the grasp of Henry Fullingham.
* * *
‘Brava, ma’am, you dance very well, it is a pleasure to watch you.’
Lady Wakefield’s praise made Phyllida’s smile grow even wider as Lord Wakefield carried her back to where his wife was standing. He was puffing from his exertion and she could not help comparing him to Richard, who had danced so effortlessly.
‘I quite agree,’ said Lady Hune, coming up. ‘I am very pleased to see you enjoying yourself, Lady Phyllida.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’ Phyllida made her curtsy to the dowager marchioness. ‘And may I say how pleased I am to see you here tonight? You have kept too much to yourself recently.’
The old lady inclined her head.
‘After the scandal of Cassandra’s elopement I did not wish to go out, but my scapegrace nephew is determined that I should not dwindle into a recluse.’
Scapegrace. Phyllida smiled. The dowager was referring to Richard, but the term was clearly used with affection. She was beginning to believe he might not be quite so bad, after all.
‘He is quite right, ma’am,’ declared Lady Wakefield. ‘One must get out, and not only to parties such as this. I am a great believer in fresh air.’
‘Perhaps Lady Hune would like to join one of your little excursions, my dear,’ suggested Lord Wakefield. He beamed at the dowager. ‘I know you no longer ride, ma’am, but there is no reason why we should not take an open carriage. Julia is already pestering her mother to arrange another jaunt while the weather holds.’ He chuckled. ‘My daughter has a taste for the Gothic, and Miss Tatham is quite as bad. They were in raptures over Farleigh Castle.’
‘Really?’ Lady Hune turned to Phyllida. ‘And do you accompany your stepdaughter on these jaunts?’
‘Why, yes, ma’am, and I have to confess I enjoy them just as much as the young people.’
‘I understand the druidical monuments are quite the rage now,’ remarked Lady Hune.
‘Indeed they are.’ Lady Wakefield nodded. ‘Julia has been pressing me to arrange a ride to see the standing stones at Avebury, but I have told her it is quite out of the question. It is too far to ride there and back in a day.’
‘What is too far?’ asked Julia, coming up at that moment and tucking her hand into her father’s arm.
‘We are trying to arrange another outing, my love,’ said Lord Wakefield, smiling fondly at her.
‘Oh, yes, please! And we should go soon, before the season starts and the weather begins to turn.’
‘What would you think to Stonehenge?’ asked Lady Hune.
‘Stonehenge?’ cried Julia, ‘Oh, how I would love to go there! There is a picture of it in one of Papa’s books and I am mad to see it for myself.’
Lady Wakefield shook her head.
‘Out of the question, my love. Why, it must be all of sixty miles there and back.’
‘If I might offer a suggestion.’ Lady Hune waited until all eyes in the group were turned upon her. ‘I have a house nearby, at Shrewton, where we might all spend a night or two. That would give you a full day to explore the druidical stones. It is large enough to accommodate everyone, including you, Lady Phyllida. You and your stepdaughter must join us.’
Julia clapped her hands. ‘Oh, yes, do
say we can go, Papa!’
‘Well, well, that is very generous, Lady Hune.’ Lord Wakefield beamed, clearly delighted.
‘And what of you, Phyllida?’ Lady Hune put a hand on her arm. ‘I shall not take a refusal from you.’
Phyllida beamed at her.
‘I have no intention of refusing, ma’am.’
She dare not ask if Richard would be accompanying them, but she thought it very likely, and the idea lifted her spirits even higher.
Lady Hune nodded, satisfied.
‘Very well, I shall send word to have the house put in readiness. Miss Wakefield is quite right, of course. We should make the outing before the Bath season begins. Shall we say the week after next, the last week in September?’
* * *
There was a murmur of assent. Phyllida found herself once more under the dowager’s scrutiny and she nodded.
‘Ellen and I have no commitments to detain us in Bath that week, my lady.’
Then it is agreed,’ declared the dowager. ‘We shall go to Stonehenge.’
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ said Lord Wakefield. ‘What a treat that will be for our young ladies.’
Phyllida was unable to suppress a smile. A journey of pleasure, made with friends, would be a treat indeed, not only for Ellen but herself, too, especially if Richard Arrandale was one of the party. She glanced around, hoping she might see him in the crowd. She wanted to stand on tiptoe and search the room for him. More than that, she wanted to find him and spend the rest of the evening at his side. It could not be, of course, however much she desired Richard’s company it would be a dreadful example to set before Ellen. She glanced at the press of dancers, wondering if she should seek out her stepdaughter but then she decided against it. Ellen would not quit the ballroom while the music was playing, she was sure of it, so Phyllida felt at liberty to think of her own concerns.
* * *
Richard hesitated. Despite his promise to Sophia he had signed his name to the wager, and even though he had decided not to take part, interrupting Henry Fullingham would be considered bad form. But, dash it all, he could not stand by and let the chit be ravished.
Even as the thoughts raced through his head Fullingham gave a yelp of pain and jumped away from Ellen.
‘Why, you little—’
‘Having trouble, Henry?’ Richard’s drawling voice stopped the fellow as he was about to advance once more upon Miss Tatham.
‘Nothing to concern you, Arrandale.’
‘Now there I beg to differ.’ Richard kept his tone cheerful. ‘Clearly the lady has had enough of your company.’
‘Yes, I have,’ declared Ellen. ‘Go away, Mr Fullingham, now.’
Fullingham was undecided and angry at the interruption. Even in the darkness Richard could see his hands clenching into fists and he said softly, ‘Pray do not even consider it, Henry. I should hate to have to mill you down, especially in front of a lady.’
For a tense moment he thought the fellow would not heed him, then with a curt nod he lounged away, leaving Richard alone with Ellen Tatham. He spoke quickly to reassure her.
‘No need to worry about me, Miss Tatham. I have no designs upon you.’
‘No, I didn’t think you had,’ she said unexpectedly. ‘Thank you for coming to my aid, sir.’
‘You are very welcome. We had best get you back to the ballroom.’ He followed her through the gap in the bushes and they set off together towards the house.
‘I suppose you think I am very foolish, to put myself in such a situation.’
‘I admit I was surprised at you, Miss Tatham.’
‘It was just that I was being pursued around the ballroom by Mr Tesford, and when Mr Fullingham suggested we step out on to the terrace I thought it would not do any harm, and in any case I was very warm. Then he took my fan—playfully, you see—but he dropped it over the balcony, and we had to go and retrieve it.’ She gave a little huff of exasperation. ‘I see now that it was all a ruse to get me away from everyone, and I never thought I should fall for such a thing—’
‘Do not upset yourself over it, my dear. You are not the first to make such a mistake and you will not be the last.’
‘It was very fortunate that you should come along when you did.’ She glanced up at him. ‘Can I count you my friend, Mr Arrandale?’
‘Why, yes, I suppose so.’
‘Good. Then I shall call you Richard and you may call me Ellen.’
‘I do not think that is appropriate,’ he replied, startled. ‘I doubt if Lady Phyllida would approve.’
‘I do not see why she should object. You are Lady Hune’s great-nephew, after all, and I know Philly likes you.’
Richard stopped.
‘Miss Tatham,’ he said gravely, ‘my reputation is such that Lady Phyllida might not consider me a suitable friend for you.’
‘Oh, stuff. Most of it is nothing but gossip, I am sure.’
‘I regret that it is not merely gossip. Most of it is all too true.’
‘You mean you really are a dangerous rake?’
The awe in her voice made him laugh in spite of himself.
‘I was,’ he told her, adding lightly, ‘I have decided to reform.’
‘I knew it,’ she said triumphantly. She slipped her arm through his and gave him a little tug. ‘Come along. We must get back to the ballroom before we are missed.’
Richard was thankful that there was no one in sight as they made their way along the lamp-strewn path to the house, where the sounds of the orchestra could be clearly heard from the open windows. When they reached the steps leading to the terrace Ellen stopped.
‘I must look terrible, having been, been mauled by that man.’
‘You have escaped remarkably lightly,’ he said, looking her over critically. ‘Your hair is no more untidy than it would be from energetic dancing.’
She put her hands on her shoulders.
‘But he grabbed at my gown and I think the tie at the back is undone.’
Richard was sufficiently experienced to know she was not being coquettish, but what surprised him was that he felt nothing but a mild exasperation with the chit as she tried to reach around herself.
‘Here, let me.’
He turned her about and quickly began to fasten the ribbons. Egad, he must be growing old, he felt positively avuncular.
* * *
Phyllida’s head was pounding. She was constantly being drawn into conversation when all she wanted to do was think of Richard Arrandale. He caused such a tumult of new and exciting emotions within her that she felt quite confused by it all. She must take care, of course. She still had Ellen to look after and must do nothing that would reflect badly upon her, but surely there could be no harm in allowing Richard to call. To be her friend. The thought was comforting. She had not realised how alone she felt. And he was so well acquainted with the world, he might even be persuaded to advise her, where Ellen was concerned. No, no, she must not assume too much. It was all speculation, he had said nothing to warrant this glow of happiness she felt, but it had been implied in his every look.
With a smile and a murmured, ‘Excuse me...’ Phyllida moved away from her friends. The music was loud and merry, the noise in the room growing quite raucous, and she wished there was some empty room where she could be alone for a little while and collect her thoughts. Impossible, of course, but there was the garden. She had glimpsed the coloured lamps through the windows, they winked and beckoned to her, inviting her to slip outside. She would do so, just for a few moments.
She stepped out through the nearest window, closing her eyes as the cool air caressed her cheek. Sheer bliss after the stuffy heat of the ballroom. She would not go too far, merely take a short stroll around the lawn. A set of shallow steps led down from the centre of the terrace and it to
ok her but a moment to reach them.
It took her even less time to see who was standing at the bottom of the steps, and to destroy all her happiness.
Chapter Ten
Phyllida took in the scene in an instant. Ellen, her cheeks flushed, hair tousled and Richard standing behind her, fastening her gown. There could be no mistaking what had been going on. While she had been wrapped in a euphoric dream, the rake had been ravishing her stepdaughter.
‘How dare you?’
The words were inadequate, but they had an effect.
‘Philly!’ Ellen looked up guiltily, but Phyllida’s eyes were fixed on Richard.
‘Go inside, Ellen.’
‘Philly, it is not as it seems—’
Phyllida cut her off.
‘Do as I say, if you please. Immediately.’
If anything was needed to fuel Phyllida’s rage it was the look Ellen cast up at Richard, as if needing his approval before she would leave. He gave a little nod and Ellen hurried away into the ballroom. Pain sliced into Phyllida like a dagger. Was the girl already under his spell?
‘I know it is not an original line, but it is not as it seems.’ Richard was coming up the steps towards her. ‘I found Miss Tatham in the gardens, fending off an admirer and I brought her back.’
‘You expect me to believe that?’
‘As a matter of fact I do. Phyllida—’
She stepped back quickly as he reached for her.
‘I am not that gullible.’ She almost spat out the words as her frail, barely acknowledged hopes shattered and pierced her heart.
He shrugged, feigning indifference but she saw by the tightening of his mouth that he was angry.
‘It is the truth and Miss Tatham will confirm it.’ He continued, observing her hesitation. ‘You are very ready to jump to the wrong conclusion, Phyllida. I thought you knew me better than that.’
‘I know you for a charming snake,’ she flashed. ‘I have no doubt that you, too, are a party to this wager, this vile plan to deflower my stepdaughter.’
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