‘You were saying?’ he prompted.
‘I seem to have forgotten it. But it is no matter, for we are in Charles Street now. I am home.’
‘Yes.’ He found himself wishing they had another mile to walk, just for the pleasure of her company. He gave a little bow.
‘Then I shall take my leave of you, until next week. Our visit to Shrewton.’
Phyllida drew a deep breath. The decision she had been putting off for so long was now clear.
‘We shall not be going,’ she said. ‘I shall write to Lady Hune today to inform her that Ellen and I will not be able to join her party.’
‘May I ask why you have changed your mind?’
‘I might have misconstrued your actions at the Denhams’, Mr Arrandale, but that does not alter the fact that you are party to a vile conspiracy against Ellen and where she is concerned I dare not trust you.’
Richard’s brows rose fractionally, but he said nothing, merely inclined his head and walked away. She watched him go. He had not tried to change her mind, he had not argued, merely accepted her news. She should be glad, for she would have had to resist his persuasions and although she knew she was doing the right thing, it would have been hard. She must keep away from Richard Arrandale, for her own sake as much as Ellen’s. How could she allow herself to become fond of a man she would not let near her stepdaughter?
She hurried indoors and went directly to her writing desk. She must write now to Lady Hune and when Ellen returned that evening, she must face the even more difficult task of breaking the news to her.
* * *
The note to Lady Hune received a reply by return, inviting, nay, commanding Phyllida to call upon her that very afternoon. Phyllida toyed with the idea of declining, but only for a moment. She had planned to spend the time writing to Olivia but since she had no good news to convey the task was no more welcome than taking tea with the dowager marchioness. She therefore changed her gown and made her way to Royal Crescent.
‘Your letter came as no surprise,’ said Lady Hune, as soon as they were alone. She poured tea into a cup and handed it to Phyllida. ‘My nephew told me to expect it.’
‘In truth, ma’am, I should have sent it days ago. I beg your pardon, and hope it will not affect your arrangements overmuch.’
‘I take it your reason is that Richard will be one of the party?’
‘Yes.’ Phyllida saw no reason to prevaricate.
‘I suppose it is useless for me to tell you that, despite his reputation, Richard has no designs upon Miss Tatham?’
Phyllida shook her head. She wanted to believe it, part of her did believe it, but she no longer trusted her own judgement. How could she, when she knew now that she was in love with Richard Arrandale?
‘My mind is made up, Lady Hune. It is best if Ellen and I do not go to Shrewton Lodge.’
‘I hope you will forgive me, my dear, but I disagree.’
Phyllida blinked. ‘Ma’am?’
‘I know of the wager concerning your stepdaughter.’
‘And do you know also that your nephew is a party to it?’
Phyllida was unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
‘Yes. He was foolish to agree to it, but men were ever thus. He assures me now that he has no intention of following it through.’
‘He is hardly likely to tell you anything else, ma’am.’
To her surprise Lady Hune smiled.
‘He is a rascal, Phyllida, I know, but in this instance I think he is sincere.’ She paused for a moment. ‘He is not a bad man, my dear. I believe I know him as well as anyone and I assure you he had no wicked intentions to ruin your stepdaughter.’
Phyllida gave a tiny shake of the head. The marchioness was undoubtedly biased.
Lady Hune continued. ‘Even if I am wrong, have you considered? The terms of the bet are for one of these so-called gentlemen to seduce Ellen before Michaelmas.’
Phyllida looked up.
‘I did not know that,’ she said slowly. ‘So it will all come to naught once the twenty-ninth is past?’
‘Yes, when we are at Shrewton. It was this knowledge that persuaded me to arrange the visit for next week. Think, my dear. You will have Lady Wakefield and myself to help keep an eye on Ellen with you, plus her maid, whom Richard tells me is quite fearsome.’
Phyllida did not notice her last words. She was thinking that even if Richard was planning mischief, she would have only one rake to look out for, rather than several. She looked up to find Lady Hune smiling at her.
‘So, Phyllida, will you reconsider?’
* * *
‘Well, what did she say?’
Richard asked the question as soon as he entered his great-aunt’s drawing room, shortly before the dinner hour.
Sophia nodded. ‘She and Miss Tatham are coming to Shrewton.’
Richard let out a sigh of relief, his breath a soft hiss in the quiet room.
‘Then we will be able to keep Miss Tatham out of harm’s way for the last few days of the wager.’
‘You truly think the danger is that great?’
‘With ten thousand pounds at stake?’ He handed Sophia a glass. ‘Men have committed murder for less.’ He threw himself down on the sofa. ‘I cannot tell you how hard it has been, keeping the wolves at bay.’ A wry grin twisted his mouth. ‘I never thought turning respectable could be so exhausting.’
‘It is good practice for when you become a father.’
The grin disappeared. ‘Please, Sophia, spare me that.’
‘Why should I? You will want an heir, and Phyllida Tatham is a young woman. ‘
He scowled. ‘I mislike your jest, madam.’
‘No jest, Richard. I have seen the way she looks at you.’
‘You are mistaken,’ he said bleakly. ‘She thinks me beyond hope.’
‘Then you must show her otherwise.’
‘Perhaps, once Michaelmas is passed she might be persuaded to overlook my reputation.’
‘A reputation you have done nothing to refute. The face you show the world is that of a devil-may-care rakehellion, but it is very far from the truth. Who knows, save I, that the better part of your income goes into the upkeep of your brother’s house rather than being lost at the gaming tables? And how long is it since you kept a mistress?’
‘Faith, my lady, you profess to be very well informed of my affairs!’
‘I have my sources. I know full well that very few of those ladies seen hanging on your arm in London find their way into your bed. In my time I have seen many magicians play their tricks, all smoke and mirrors. You have been the same, my boy, hiding behind your reputation as a rake.’
‘And why should I do that?’
‘Why? To show the world you are equally as bad as your brother. To draw society’s disapproval away from Wolfgang and on to yourself.’
He stared at Sophia. She was right, of course. His father had always decreed Richard was no better than his brother and he had done his best to confirm that view. At first it had been boyish pranks, a way to gain his parents’ attention, but this had changed after Wolf disappeared. Richard had adored his brother and when he could not defend him he had tried to outdo him in excess. Never murder, if one excluded the duels, but by the time he reached his majority Richard had been notorious for his drinking, his wenching and his deadly ability with pistol and swords.
Had it made him happy? No. There had been a savage satisfaction in being considered the worst of the Arrandales but not happiness, or contentment. That was something he had glimpsed, briefly, here in Bath, but it could never be within his grasp. He pushed aside the thought and raked his fingers through his hair, turning his thoughts back to his brother.
‘I cannot believe Wolf is a murderer.’
‘No
r I, but unless and until he returns we will not know the truth. One thing I do know, my boy: sacrificing yourself will not help him.’
Richard knew it, but he shied away from discussing it further. He looked around, seeking some other subject to distract his great-aunt. His eyes alighted upon a folded paper on the table at Sophia’s elbow.
‘I beg your pardon, did I interrupt you reading your letter?’
‘It is from Cassandra.’ She picked up the letter and handed it to him. ‘She is in Paris. She seems happy.’
A shadow crossed her face, she suddenly looked older, more frail and Richard cursed his absent cousin. He opened the letter and quickly scanned it. Cassie addressed her grandmother with love and affection, but no sign of remorse.
‘She is a minx to make you suffer like this.’
‘The young do not realise the pain they cause.’
He kept his eyes on the sloping writing as he asked casually, ‘And have my escapades grieved you, Sophia?’
‘Naturally.’ She reached out and caught his free hand. ‘But I have hopes that that is about to change.’
He squeezed her fingers, touched by her belief in him.
‘I shall try not to let you down, love.’
* * *
‘What a beautiful day for driving to Shrewton.’
Ellen’s cheery remark lightened Phyllida’s spirits as they left the house. It was a true autumn morning, crisp and bright with a clear blue sky and a slight mist just lifting from the hills. Three carriages were drawn up, Phyllida was to join Lady Sophia in the first, Ellen would travel with Julia and her parents in the second while Matlock rode in the third vehicle with Lady Hune’s maid, her butler and Richard’s man, Fritt. Mr Adrian Wakefield, they learned, had cried off from the visit, having been invited to join a party of friends in Leicestershire.
Richard, Phyllida noted, was accompanying them on horseback. At first she was relieved that the gentleman would not be riding in one of the carriages, but as they drew out of Bath and the road widened she changed her mind, for he spent the majority of the day riding beside their carriage, directly in her view. He looked lean and athletic astride the black hunter, straight-backed, his strong legs encased in buckskin and leather. The familiar ache was almost a pain. He was so handsome, everything a young girl would dream of in a hero. If she thought of him thus, how much more susceptible was Ellen? Phyllida closed her eyes, but although she could block him from her sight she could not block him from her mind. She might keep Ellen safe from his machinations now, but what if he should follow them to London when Ellen made her come-out next year? She had promised Ellen she should not be forced into marriage, that she should have the husband of her choice. But what if, what if she chose Richard? Phyllida could think of no one more desirable. No one less suitable. But at that point a terrible doubt shook her. Was it jealousy that made her think him the wrong man for Ellen?
Hot tears threatened. They prickled at her eyelids and filled her throat. She would argue against the match, of course, but if Ellen really loved him and Richard proved faithful, she knew she would not stand in their way.
‘My dear, is anything the matter?’
Lady Hune’s concerned enquiry made Phyllida fight back her unhappiness.
‘Nothing, ma’am. I assure you.’
‘You looked so sad.’
Phyllida forced a smile. ‘I was merely thinking what I shall do once Ellen is married. She is so beautiful I do not expect her to remain single for long after her presentation.’
‘Really?’ observed Lady Hune. ‘She tells me she is in no hurry to take a husband.’
‘She has said as much to me, but that may change, when she falls in love. And when she is married she will no longer need me.’ She added thoughtfully, ‘I think, if the peace holds, I shall go abroad. I have always wanted to travel.’
‘You might marry again.’
‘No!’ The word came out swift and sharp. Phyllida gave Sophia an apologetic glance. ‘No,’ she repeated, softly this time. ‘I have no thoughts of marriage. Not any more.’
Sophia’s smile was sceptical and Phyllida turned her eyes again to the window, resolutely staring at the passing landscape rather than the tall rider cantering just ahead of them.
* * *
Shrewton Lodge was an old manor set within its own park. The house itself was built of golden stone from Ham Hill and had been much altered, until it was a sprawling mass of gabled wings and tall chimneys.
‘It is very beautiful,’ declared Phyllida as they bowled along the curling carriageway towards the north front of the house.
‘Do you think so?’ Lady Hune leaned forward to get a better view. ‘It has a certain charm, I suppose. I have spent many happy times here over the years.’ She sat back. ‘But it is a tiresome mix of styles, with several staircases and labyrinthine corridors. All dark panelling and uneven floors that cause the doors to swing open or shut of their own accord.’
‘I am not deceived, ma’am, I can tell you like the house. It is a pity you do not make more use of it.’
The marchioness smiled at her. ‘Ah, but when you get to my age, Bath and its society is far more entertaining than the country.’
They pulled up before the arched entrance where liveried servants were waiting to greet them. Phyllida could only guess at the hard work that had gone into preparing the old house for their visit, but judging from the beaming faces of the staff they were very pleased to welcome their mistress. A diminutive figure ran out to take charge of Richard’s horse and Phyllida recognised him as Collins, Richard’s groom. She had not seen him on the journey and concluded that he had travelled down in advance. As she followed the others into the house it occurred to her that Lady Hune and her great-nephew had taken a great deal of trouble over this visit.
* * *
Once indoors, they found themselves in a large galleried hall, the heavy oak panelling decorated with ancient weapons and hunting trophies. Impatient of unpacking and too young to need a rest after their journey, Ellen and Julia begged to be allowed to explore. Receiving assent from Phyllida and Lady Wakefield, their hostess gave her permission, adding severely, ‘But be warned, dinner will be early, and you must present yourselves in good time, washed and dressed as befits young ladies and not a couple of hoydens.’
‘We will indeed, ma’am,’ laughed Ellen. ‘Thank you!’
‘If there is one thing I envy young people, it is their energy,’ murmured Sophia, smiling after them.
‘If they had your wisdom it would make them truly formidable,’ remarked Richard, holding out his arm to his aunt. ‘Let me escort you to your room, ma’am.’
* * *
Phyllida watched them ascend the main staircase while she waited with Lord and Lady Wakefield for Mrs Hinton, the housekeeper, to come and show them to their rooms.
‘There is something very attractive about a reformed rake, I think,’ remarked Lady Wakefield, with something very like a sigh.
‘I admit I was a little suspicious of him at first, but I have never seen anything of the libertine about him,’ replied Lord Wakefield. ‘I believe he spends a deal of time gambling at Burton’s, but that is true of so many gentlemen. It seems to me his name has been tarnished by gossipmongers with nothing better to do.’
Phyllida said nothing. They had clearly fallen under his spell and without explaining her own encounters with Richard Arrandale it would be impossible to change their opinion of the man. For herself, if he was reformed let him prove it.
* * *
In Phyllida’s opinion, the rooms allocated to her and Ellen could not have been better. All the guest rooms were reached by a long shadowy corridor on the opposite side of the galleried hall to the family’s apartments. The rooms were connected by a dressing room that included a bed for Matlock, who would be acting as maid to them both
during their short stay. The windows looked over the drive rather than the prettier formal gardens of the south front but Phyllida did not mind that. They were as far away from Richard Arrandale as possible, and that was all that was required.
* * *
Dinner was an ordeal. Really, thought Phyllida, it was very kind of Sophia to place Richard beside her and keep him away from Ellen, but the marchioness did not realise how unsettling she found his proximity. He behaved with perfect propriety but she was painfully aware of him, his thigh, encased in the tight knee breeches, just inches from her own. She was conscious of every look, every word he bestowed upon her.
‘You are not hungry?’ he asked, his voice low and concerned as he watched her push her food around the plate.
‘Y-yes, of course. It is all quite delicious.’
* * *
Richard felt a warm smile spreading inside him as he watched the hectic flush mantle her cheek. She might deny it but she felt the attraction just as much as he. If they were not in company he would kiss her, here and now. Instead he tempted her appetite with succulent slices of chicken and a little of the fricassee of mushrooms. She was wearing lilac, as if to remind everyone that she was a widow, yet the lacy white overdress shimmered in the late afternoon sunlight, giving her an ephemeral grace. Like an angel. He found it difficult to drag his eyes away from her, to respond when anyone else spoke to him. He wanted to dine with her alone, to kiss her while her lips tasted of the honey and Rhenish cream she was currently enjoying, before savouring every inch of her body as he slowly removed the fine silk that clung to each delicious curve.
He shifted on his seat, his body hot and aroused by the very thought of it. Enough. If she suspected his thoughts she would shy away from him like a frightened colt. She might be a widow, but she was so delightfully innocent.
All too soon the ladies withdrew and Richard was left alone with Lord Wakefield to enjoy their brandy. He had never found it so hard to converse, to contain his impatience to see Phyllida again, but thankfully Sophia had given him an excuse not to linger. She was clearly fatigued by the journey and had announced that she would retire immediately after dinner, but she ordered Richard to show their guests the gardens before the sun went down. He therefore allowed Lord Wakefield no more than one glass of brandy before he escorted him to the drawing room.
The Chaperon's Seduction Page 19
