‘I am glad to hear it,’ replied Phyllida seriously. How was she to make Ellen understand? She tried again. ‘I am concerned for your safety, my love. There are—there appear to be—gentlemen in Bath with an eye to your fortune.’
‘But that will always be so, will it not? I am an heiress.’
‘Yes, but these are unscrupulous men who, who would stop at nothing.’
Ellen’s eyes sparkled.
‘You mean they would seduce me? Well, I have already told you I shall not allow that, so short of laying hands upon me and performing a physical abduction I am in no danger at all, am I?’
‘Perhaps not, but—’
‘And another thing,’ said Ellen, triumphantly. ‘If we were to go to Worthing, or Brighton, or anywhere, I might meet the gentleman of my dreams who will sweep me off my feet and I will not be able to help myself. So we will be much safer if we remain in Bath, won’t we?’
Phyllida retired, momentarily defeated and too exhausted to argue further. When she left Ellen’s room she found Matlock on the landing, a pile of clean sheets in her arms.
The maid said in her abrupt way, ‘Miss Ellen’s right, my lady.’ When Phyllida raised her brows she continued, by way of explanation. ‘The doors in this house being so ill fitting, l couldn’t help overhearing, and if you want my opinion we’d be best keeping Miss Ellen here, where there’s a whole army of folks to look out for her, not only myself and Parfett but also the servants from Lady Wakefield’s household and others that I’ve got to know around the town. There isn’t one of ’em wouldn’t hesitate to come forward if they thought Miss Ellen were in any trouble.’
‘Thank you, Matty, that is a comforting thought.’
‘Aye, well, I know you’re worried about her, my lady. Miss Ellen’s always been one to land on her feet, but she can be hot to handle when she’s unhappy. I’d rather have her behaving herself here in Bath than misbehaving somewhere else.’
‘I believe you are right. Perhaps we would be wise to stay here, where we already have such good and trusted friends.’ Phyllida stretched a tired smile. ‘Goodnight, Matty. Ellen is lucky to have you to look after her.’
She moved on, but not before she heard the old retainer mutter as she walked away.
‘If you asks me, it ain’t Miss Ellen who needs looking after.’
* * *
Ellen arrived at the breakfast table the following morning in high good humour. Phyllida had risen from her bed feeling dull and listless and it was an effort even to respond to Ellen’s cheerful greeting. The girl was clearly full of energy, and as soon as Hirst had retired and they were alone, Ellen launched into speech, explaining again what had happened in the garden. Knowing it would take more effort to stem the flow than to allow Ellen to talk herself out, Phyllida kept silent.
‘So you see, Philly,’ said Ellen at last, ‘Ri—Mr Arrandale is completely blameless in the whole affair.’
No. He is playing his own game.
Phyllida knew it would be useless to say as much to Ellen.
‘Perhaps,’ she conceded. ‘However, there is no doubt that what happened to you last night could have been very serious. You must understand, Ellen, that a scandal now could ruin your chances of a successful come-out.’
‘I do understand, Philly, and I promise I shall be more careful in future.’ She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. ‘It is very unfair, don’t you think, that we must behave with such propriety at all times while a man may flirt and behave in the most outrageous fashion and no one will think any the worse of him.’
‘That is not quite true. A man may gain a bad reputation, which will make it prudent for respectable people to approach him with caution.’
‘You are thinking of Mr Arrandale,’ said Ellen. ‘He has been very wild, I know, but that is all in the past.’ She beamed at Phyllida. ‘He is reformed now. He told me so.’
Hollow laughter echoed in Phyllida’s head.
That is just what a rake would say.
* * *
Richard was relieved, if a little surprised, that rumours of the wager were not more widespread. The appearance of another footman in the Tatham household did not go unnoticed with the gentlemen who frequented Burton’s gaming hell in Union Street, and dampened the spirits of at least two of those who had signed up for the wager.
Richard had joined them at the card table, and the conversation naturally turned to the heiress.
‘The chit is damnably elusive,’ grumbled Tesford. ‘She won’t make any effort to give her protectors the slip.’
Sir Charles Urmston drained his glass and called for another bottle before inspecting his hand.
‘I must say she seems immune to the charms of every gentleman,’ he murmured, hesitating over his discard. ‘She flirts most deliciously, but cannot be tempted into anything remotely clandestine.’
Richard listened in silence. A glance at Henry Fullingham showed that he was scowling, but he said nothing of his unsuccessful attempt to seduce Ellen in the Denhams’ garden.
‘And now there’s a new footman following her everywhere,’ observed Tesford, staring moodily into his glass. ‘Big, burly fellow who looks very handy with his fists. I am minded to withdraw.’
‘So, too, am I,’ agreed Fullingham.
‘And lose your thousand pounds without a fight?’ Urmston’s brows rose a little and both men flushed angrily.
‘What have you in mind, to snatch the chit off the street?’ retorted Fullingham.
‘It’s a possibility,’ murmured Sir Charles.
‘Not for me,’ remarked George Cromby, shaking his head. ‘A little dalliance with a willing gel is one thing, but abduction—it would be bound to get out and I have my family to consider. Think of the scandal.’
Tesford flicked a sneering look at Richard.
‘Scandal has never worried Arrandale, but he has already given up. Told me so himself,’ he added, when a murmur of surprise ran around the table.
‘He was bamming you, Arnold.’ Sir Charles Urmston laughed softly. ‘Putting you off the scent to give himself the advantage. Ain’t that so, Arrandale?’
Richard did not deny it, but Arnold Tesford gave a short laugh.
‘Well, he hasn’t done very well so far. His attempts to get the widow on his side have failed dismally, from what I saw at the Denhams’. Tore you off a strip, didn’t she, and barred you from calling—my man was drinking with one of the Denhams’ footmen in the Running Horse t’other night and the fellow said he, er, overheard it.’
‘Really?’ murmured Urmston. ‘You must be losing your touch, Arrandale.’
Richard smiled, outwardly unmoved by the laughter around the table, but as he made his way back to Royal Crescent he thought morosely that perhaps Sir Charles wasn’t so far off the mark.
* * *
He awoke the following day to a leaden sky that promised rain, and after a hasty breakfast he announced to Sophia that he would accompany her to the Pump Room.
‘This is an honour,’ Sophia remarked as they rattled off around the Crescent in her ancient carriage. ‘Are you going to drink a cup of the famous waters?’
He smiled a little at that.
‘Not quite.’
‘Well, perhaps you should try it. You have been quite out of sorts these past few days. You have an umbrella, too.’ Her keen eyes searched his face. ‘Do I take it you do not mean to return with me?’
‘That very much depends.’
‘Upon what?’
He grinned. ‘Upon whether I find a more attractive prospect.’
‘You are fobbing me off. Very well, if you do not wish to tell me your plans so be it. I shall ask you instead about Arrandale. There was a letter for you, was there not, from the steward?’
‘Why, ye
s, he tells me the repairs to the roof are now finished.’
‘It is a bad business,’ declared Sophia, shaking her head. ‘You should not be using your own money to maintain your brother’s house.’
‘If I did not it would fall into ruin and the staff would have to be turned off. That I will not allow. Why, most of them were there when I was a boy, they are like my family. You know very well that since Father’s death the entailed property has been in the hands of the lawyers, and they won’t budge without instruction from my brother.’ He paused, fighting back his frustration. ‘It would be easier if I could manage Arrandale properly, sell some of the land or the timber to raise the funds to maintain the place, but that rascally lawyer of my father’s insists that nothing can be done without Wolf’s authority.’
‘It is almost ten years since your brother fled the country, Richard, and you have heard nothing from him. He may well be dead by now. You could claim the inheritance.’
‘No. I would never do that. Not while there is a chance Wolf is alive.’
‘So you continue to pour your own money into Arrandale. Money you can ill afford.’
Richard could not deny it. He was trying to achieve the impossible, using the meagre income from Brookthorn to support a much larger estate.
‘You are a fool, Richard,’ Sophia continued in her sharp, direct way. ‘It cannot go on, my boy. And do not look to gambling to restore your fortunes.’
‘I do not. Neither do I look to the heiress.’
‘Miss Tatham? I never thought you did.’ She added, in the casual voice he had come to mistrust, ‘I think Lady Phyllida is more your style.’
Richard was about to agree when Sophia continued.
‘You could do worse, my boy. Tatham provided well for both his ladies.’
‘Really?’ Richard frowned. ‘There is nothing in her style to suggest it. I thought all the money had been settled on Miss Tatham.’
‘Not at all. Phyllida is a very wealthy widow.’
She could not have delivered a more severe blow. He shrugged and replied carelessly, ‘Then that is another reason she would never entertain my suit. She would think I was interested only in her fortune.’
Sophia gave a very unladylike snort.
‘Sometimes, Richard, for a man with your reputation for pleasing women, you understand very little about them.’
Chapter Eleven
Having decided that they would stay in Bath, despite the dangers, Phyllida was determined that life would go on as normal. Or as normal is it could be. Ellen cheerfully accepted that she must always be accompanied when she went out, and when Phyllida could not go with her she was to take either Matlock or the new footman she had engaged, a brawny Irishman named Patrick who came with glowing references from a respectable family, well known to Lady Wakefield.
‘It relieves my mind greatly to know that you can vouch for the family,’ Phyllida told her when they met at the Pump Room a few days later. ‘I am grown so suspicious of everyone these days.’
‘That is not such a bad thing.’ Lady Wakefield gave her an understanding smile. ‘Are you regretting taking on the responsibility? It must be quite onerous, to have sole charge of your stepdaughter.’
‘I know it, ma’am, and I have considered moving Ellen out of Bath.’ Phyllida lowered her voice. ‘My housekeeper intercepted a note only yesterday. It suggested an assignation and when I told Ellen of it she was quite unsurprised, but she did tell me that she had no intention of meeting any gentleman in such a clandestine manner. I am very thankful for it, but I fear if she were to be confined at Tatham, or even worse in the schoolroom with her young cousins, as my brother-in-law has suggested, who knows what her rebellious spirit might cause her to do?’
‘Very true. Better that you keep her here, under your eye.’
‘That is what I think, ma’am.’ Phyllida laughed suddenly. ‘And I am becoming most adept at chaperoning! When Sir Charles Urmston happened upon us in Milsom Street and invited us to step into the confectioners and try the latest batch of Naples Diavolini I gave him no opportunity to converse privately with Ellen and kept up such a flow of inane chatter while we sampled the delicious chocolate drops that by the end of it I was quite exhausted. And yesterday, when Mr Tesford intercepted us in Sydney Gardens I took up my place between him and Ellen. I am always determinedly cheerful, but any gentlemen, be he potential suitor or would-be seducer, must be shown that I am not to be distracted from my role as chaperon.’
‘Good for you,’ declared Lady Wakefield approvingly. ‘Although, you need not worry over her today. Once she and Julia have finished their dancing class this morning they will return to Laura Place under the watchful eye of Julia’s maid. Graveney is very much like your Matlock, she is very protective of her charges. She shall also accompany Ellen in the carriage, when I send her back to you after dinner.’
‘Thank you, I know I need not worry about Ellen for the whole day.’
‘What will you do with yourself?’
Phyllida laughed. ‘I hardly know.’
But in truth she knew only too well. She would busy herself with her accounts and with her household duties, tasks that would occupy her mind, because if she turned to her painting, her books or strolling in Sydney Gardens, then the nagging ache that had been with her since the Denhams’ party would intensify and her thoughts would again be filled with Richard Arrandale.
Phyllida had spent the days and nights following the Denhams’ party going over the events of the evening and trying to understand Richard’s behaviour. Her head told her the man was a rake and that any chivalrous action would be designed to ingratiate himself with Ellen, but her heart did not want to believe it. Ellen was convinced that he was reformed and Phyllida had to admit that in these matters Ellen appeared to be wise beyond her years. Lady Wakefield, too, believed Richard Arrandale to be a reformed character. Even after Phyllida had confided to her all that had occurred on that night she had no hesitation in defending him, or in concluding that he must be truly fond of Ellen. Could she have been wrong? Phyllida wondered. Could Richard really be the honourable man her heart wanted him to be? The trouble was, she thought sadly, if that was so, then she had insulted him most grievously.
Resolving not to waste her free time in fruitless speculation Phyllida took her leave of Lady Wakefield. The clouds that had been gathering all morning had descended even lower and as she reached the Pump Room doorway the first fat spots of rain began to fall.
‘Lady Phyllida.’
She tensed as she heard that familiar voice at her shoulder.
‘We have nothing to say to one another, Mr Arrandale.’
‘Are you going to Charles Street? That is on my way, allow me to escort you.’
‘No, thank you,’ she responded icily. ‘I am perfectly capable of walking alone.’
‘But it is raining and you have no umbrella. And I do.’ Phyllida knew it was a mistake to look at him but she could not help herself. The corners of his mouth had curved upwards and he was smiling at her in a way that broke through all her resolve. He held out his arm. ‘Shall we?’
As if they had a will of their own her fingers slid on to his sleeve. In her own defence, Phyllida told herself that if she refused him he was quite capable of walking behind her all the way to Charles Street.
They stepped out of the Pump Room. Phyllida was obliged to keep close to his side to avoid the rain, which was now falling steadily.
She told him, ‘If you expect me to thank you for your gallant behaviour the other evening you will be disappointed.’ When he made no reply the guilt that was worming away inside her became unbearable. ‘But I do beg your pardon, for what I said to you that night.’
‘You admit, then, that I meant no harm to Miss Tatham?’
‘She has assured me that was the case.’
* * *
The words came out stiffly, but Richard was heartened by them, until she added, ‘At least on that occasion,’
He smothered an exclamation.
‘Lady Phyllida, there are other, far more dangerous men seeking to undo your stepdaughter.’
‘I am aware she is the subject of a wicked gamble, Mr Arrandale, but whether the other participants are more dangerous than you is questionable.’
‘You are an innocent, Lady Phyllida. You do not know what these men are capable of.’
‘Just because I have lived retired does not mean I am not aware of what men are like.’
‘From gossip and discreet whispers!’
‘And from novels,’ she flashed, stopping to look up at him. ‘I have read Clarissa.’
‘What, all of it?’
She put up her chin. ‘Yes.’
A grin tugged at his mouth.
‘By George, your marriage must have been extremely dull if you had so much time to read.’
Her eyes flashed. Richard laughed. She had withdrawn her hand but he caught it and tucked it on to his arm again, saying as they began to walk on, ‘Forgive me for that last remark, ma’am. Will you concede it is a fair trade with the insult you flung at me at the Denhams’ party?’
‘I shall concede nothing,’ she replied with icy dignity but did not pull away. It was progress, of a sort.
They strolled on and Richard exerted himself to draw her out, talking to her of books and art and the theatre. Inwardly he was smiling, thinking how well their steps matched, how similar were their tastes.
How conveniently tall she was, so he would only have to drop his head a little to reach those full red lips. He glanced down at her profile with its straight little nose and determined chin. She was frowning a little as she considered the question he had asked her about the new Theatre Royal in Drury Lane.
‘I think it is the fact that it is so large,’ she was saying. ‘The audience is too distant. Too...’
She looked up at him at that moment, her lips remaining pursed around the word long after the sound had faded. He watched the colour rise in her cheeks, saw her eyes darken as she recognised the attraction between them. Then her head snapped back, she gazed ahead of her and presented her profile to him once more.
The Chaperon's Seduction Page 18
