* * *
The ladies were gathered around the pianoforte, where Phyllida was playing a lively sonata. Richard started towards the little group but he was intercepted by Ellen Tatham.
‘Richard, I must speak to you privately.’
He glanced quickly at Phyllida. She was engrossed in her music but he would not risk her thinking he was behaving with any impropriety, so he moved to the window, in full view of the others but where they would not be overheard.
‘Well, Miss Tatham, what is so urgent?’
‘Did you know that I am the subject of a...a wager?’
‘How on earth did you learn of that?’
‘I have my sources.’
He laughed. ‘That sounds so much like my great-aunt! Very well, yes, I do know of it, but you are not to let it worry you.’
‘Oh, no, of course not. When I was at school the gentlemen in the town were often making such bets. And it is much better for one to be aware of these things, do you not agree? Does Philly know of it? Is that why she has been so concerned for my safety these past weeks?’
He paused a beat before replying.
‘It is, and you must behave yourself, and not cause her any more anxiety than she already suffers on your behalf.’
‘You are very fond of my stepmama, I think.’
Richard did not attempt to deny it. He said slowly, ‘She is very wary of me and will not accept my help to protect you, but be assured, Miss Tatham, I have taken my own measures to keep you safe.’
‘Really?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Have you set another man to spy on me?’ When his brows snapped together she continued blithely. ‘I know very well that it was you who persuaded Patrick’s last employers to send him to us.’
‘The devil you do!’
‘He let it slip when he was accompanying me to my dancing lesson one day, but you need not worry, I warned Patrick that he is not to speak of it to anyone else.’
‘Miss Tatham, you are a minx.’
‘Thank you. And if you have set people to watch me, then I am very grateful for it. I just wish I might tell Philly, for I know she worries a great deal about me.’
‘No! Ellen, I forbid you to tell Lady Phyllida anything about this.’
‘I will not say a word, if you do not want me to, even though I know it is for her sake that you are going to all this trouble for me.’
With another seraphic smile she wandered away, leaving Richard wondering who else knew of his feelings for Lady Phyllida.
Chapter Twelve
‘Your great-aunt misled us, Mr Arrandale,’ remarked Lady Wakefield as they strolled along the wide paths edged with trimmed box. ‘I was expecting a house in holland covers and romantically overgrown gardens.’
‘My aunt enjoys her comfort,’ he replied. ‘She sent an army of servants ahead of her to ensure everything was in order.’
‘But not the gardens,’ put in Phyllida, looking about her with approval. ‘There are no signs of recent cutting or weeding here, everything is in excellent order.’
‘The gardener has been here since he was a boy and his father before him. One cannot put a garden under holland covers, Lady Phyllida.’
He was smiling and for the life of her Phyllida could not help but respond. A cry distracted them. Ellen and Julia had run on ahead and now they were calling and beckoning to the others to catch up. The girls disappeared around the house and as Phyllida turned the corner she realised what had excited them. A large statue of Neptune surrounded by dolphins dominated the south-facing gardens and from its centre a large fountain of water frothed high into the air before it tumbled back into the surrounding pond.
‘Oh, it is quite delightful,’ exclaimed Lady Wakefield. ‘But, girls, be careful. You do not want to wet your gowns.’
‘Too late, I fear,’ laughed Phyllida, watching as the girls sat on the low wall surrounding the fountain, trailing their hands in the water. Lord Wakefield chuckled.
‘They look like a couple of water nymphs.’ He shot a glance at Richard. ‘You will not tell me Lady Hune keeps the fountain playing when she is not here.’
‘No, sir, she sent instructions that it should be cleaned and set working for the duration of our visit. What do you think of it, Lady Phyllida?’
‘It is enchanting.’ She smiled, putting her hands together and pressing her forefingers to her mouth as she watched the water rise up from the central column, cascading back into the pool below, droplets of water sparkling like diamonds in the setting sun.
‘Good. I am glad you like it.’
There was something in his voice, a note of quiet satisfaction that made her look at him and she felt a light, fluttering excitement deep inside, a delicious sense of anticipation.
Stop it, Phyllida.
‘Come along, girls,’ Lady Wakefield called out. ‘Come away from the water now. We must see the rest of the gardens before the sun goes down.’
Phyllida stepped up beside Lady Wakefield as they moved on to the west front of the house with its terraced lawns giving views of the extensive park and woods beyond.
‘The trees are already beginning to turn,’ said Richard. ‘In a few weeks more they will be a blaze of red and gold.’
‘That must be a magnificent sight,’ observed Lord Wakefield.
Phyllida stared at the trees but she knew Richard’s eyes were upon her.
‘Yes. I wish you could see it.’
He is speaking directly to me.
The tug of attraction between them was so strong it was like a physical thread, pulling them together. A sudden, wild joy rose inside Phyllida as she thought of what he might mean, but she quickly stifled it. She dare not allow herself to think such things were possible, not until he had proved himself, until she could trust him.
And that might take a very long time.
* * *
The next day was dominated by their visit to Stonehenge. By the time they set off the rising sun had burnt off the morning mist and they rode in two open carriages, the better to enjoy the excellent views the journey afforded. Julia and Ellen took along their sketchbooks, determined to capture the magnificent druidical monument on paper, for who knew when they might have another chance? Phyllida had seen pictures of the site, but still their first view of the huge stones rearing up on the flat plain made her catch her breath.
The dry weather meant they could drive the carriages across the short turf and stop closer to the monument. As the party alighted a woman in rags came running up, offering to be their guide. They declined, but Phyllida saw Richard slip the woman a few coins before sending her on her way. The day was warm and the party was happy to roam amongst the stones, wondering at their size and speculating about their origin and purpose. After a lively discussion they all agreed to discount myths of giants and gods in favour of Mr Stukeley’s book with its arguments for an ancient civilisation and Ellen and Julia wandered off to find a good spot for their sketching. The rest of the party broke up to stroll around as they wished.
Phyllida was happy to wander on her own and when she saw Richard start towards her she quickly changed her own direction and moved away. She was still not ready to trust him, but whenever he was near her she dared not trust herself either. She had decided therefore that it would be best to avoid him. From the corner of her eye she saw him stop and turn back. It was what she had intended, but it did nothing for the heaviness that settled over her spirits as she continued to make her solitary progress. A few minutes later she stepped between two of the towering blocks and saw Sophia resting against one of the fallen stones.
‘Are you quite well, Lady Hune?’
‘I am a little tired,’ the old lady admitted. ‘But I would not spoil anyone’s pleasure.’
‘Let me give you my arm back to the carriage,’ said Phyllida. �
�We may sit there in comfort while we wait for the others.’
‘Are you sure, my dear?’
‘Perfectly. I have seen enough here and would like to view the whole edifice from a distance, which I can do perfectly well from the carriage.’
Satisfied, Sophia took Phyllida’s arm and they began to stroll back towards the waiting vehicles.
‘Did my nephew show you the grounds yesterday, Phyllida? What did you think of them?’
‘Quite delightful, ma’am. I hope I shall have the opportunity to explore the park a little tomorrow.’
‘Feel free to wander where you choose, my dear.’
‘Thank you. You said yesterday you had been happy there, was that with your husband, my lady?’
‘Yes, we spent the summer months here when my son was born, and when I was widowed it became my home. Much more comfortable than the dower house at Hune. I brought Cassandra to Shrewton when her parents died and Hune’s cousin inherited the marquessate. Richard, too, spent time at the Lodge with me. We were here when the scandal broke about his brother. I believe it has always felt like home to him. It was never part of the Hune estate, you see. It is mine to dispose of as I wish and it will be Richard’s eventually. Cassandra’s father provided very well for her, so she does not need it. Richard may use it as he will. He may even sell it, since he is foolish enough to spend every penny he has on keeping his brother’s property in order.’
Phyllida looked at her, puzzled, and Lady Hune answered her silent question.
‘Richard is convinced Wolfgang is still alive, but in his brother’s absence he has no access to the Arrandale fortune and he uses his own money to repair and maintain Arrandale House.’
‘Oh.’ Phyllida bit her lip. ‘I am ashamed to say I thought he frittered his money away,’ she confessed. ‘I thought he spent it on drinking and gambling and, and the like.’
‘As does the rest of the world.’ Lady Hune sighed. ‘It has amused him for years to maintain his rakish reputation, but he is paying for it now, I think.’
Phyllida’s head came up. ‘But his reputation is not undeserved, ma’am.’
‘He was very wild, I grant you, but his family and his world expected nothing else. His father was a rogue who showed little affection for his sons. He left them to grow up without the precepts of charity or honour. When Wolfgang’s wife died in mysterious circumstances his father immediately shipped the boy off to France and by that very action he as good as admitted his guilt. Richard was a schoolboy at the time. He was adventurous, energetic but no more wayward than any other seventeen-year-old, yet he was considered by his father to be as dissolute as his brother.
Phyllida was moved to exclaim, ‘Oh, poor boy!’
‘Poor boy indeed. He was expected to behave badly and he did so.’
‘So badly that before he reached twenty he was notorious,’ said Phyllida, thinking back to her one short Season.
Sophia gripped her arm, saying urgently, ‘Show him a little charity, Phyllida. He was never as black as he was painted.’
They had reached the carriage and Phyllida made no reply as they settled themselves on the comfortable seat, but she reflected upon Sophia’s words as she looked back towards the monument. She could see Richard standing behind the girls, admiring their sketches. Even as she watched Ellen looked up and laughed at something he had said, completely at ease with him.
How she would like to believe Lady Hune, but there was so much at stake and if she was wrong it would be Ellen’s life that was ruined.
* * *
However, when the party arrived back at Shrewton Lodge at the end of the day Phyllida allowed Richard to hand her down from the carriage without hesitation. His grip on her fingers was firm and she looked up briefly to meet his eyes, a shy, tentative smile in her own.
* * *
Richard’s spirits lifted as he followed Phyllida into the house. She was melting, just a little. She had every right to be cautious, but he hoped if all went well that by the time they returned to Bath they might be friends. He felt a wry grin growing inside him. It was an unusual term for Richard to use for a woman, but in Phyllida’s case he knew he not only wanted her in his bed, but in his life, too.
Fritt was already filling his bath when Richard went up to his room, and he took particular pains over his dress that evening, laughing to himself as he thought Fritt must think him the veriest coxcomb, changing his coat three times before he was satisfied.
He tried to hide his disappointment when he found himself sitting at the other end of the table to Phyllida at dinner. It did not matter, he would bide his time. He did not wish to rush her. When he and Lord Wakefield joined the ladies after dinner they found Phyllida and Lady Wakefield playing at cards with Julia while Ellen and Sophia were deep in conversation on the far side of the room. He followed Lord Wakefield across to watch the card players.
‘Lady Hune and Miss Tatham have had their heads together since we came in,’ chuckled Lady Wakefield as they approached.
‘I think Miss Tatham reminds my great-aunt of Lady Cassandra,’ said Richard.
‘Ah, yes, her granddaughter,’ murmured Lady Wakefield. ‘Poor child.’
Julia looked up. ‘Why poor, Mama? She married the man she loves and Lady Hune says she is now happily settled in Paris.’
Lady Wakefield shook her head. ‘He stole her away from her family, and may yet turn out to be an unscrupulous rogue.’
‘And there are many such men in society,’ added Phyllida. ‘Even in Bath.’
Richard met her eyes without flinching.
‘I agree wholeheartedly, my lady.’
* * *
Phyllida quickly returned her attention to the cards. Was he trying to convince her he was not one of them? She did not yet believe he had reformed, even if he had convinced Lady Wakefield and Lady Hune.
The evening passed very quietly which was due, everyone agreed, to a combination of the day’s exertions and the unseasonably warm weather. The long windows from the drawing room were thrown wide but the evening air was sultry, though there was little cloud and a bright moon was sailing serenely across the night sky.
But Phyllida did not feel at all serene. She was on edge, nervous. She could not relax. Richard’s eyes were on her, she sensed that he was watching her every move. It was unsettling, and strangely arousing. Her lips and her breasts felt full, ripe as the berries they had picked together so recently. When the tea tray was brought in and she carried his cup to him the merest touch of their fingers heated her blood. She turned away quickly but her spine tingled with anticipation.
* * *
Ellen and Julia were yawning and as soon as they retired she followed them, glad to be away from Richard’s unnerving presence, but she could not forget him. He dominated her thoughts. She went to bed and tried to read, but the flickering candle made the print dance before her eyes and instead of words she saw his face, felt those blue eyes boring into her. Even when she blew out the flame and settled down his image haunted her, achingly handsome in the dark evening coat that clung to his lithe figure and his smile that she found so hard to resist. She pushed the thoughts from her mind at last and drifted to sleep, only to dream of Sir Evelyn, her late husband. They were in the marital bed and she was listening to his breathing, knowing he was not sleeping. But then it was not her kindly husband beside her but Richard. He was turning, reaching for her, wanting her. Her hands clenched on her nightgown and she dragged it up, arching her body, ready to give herself to him.
Phyllida sat up, gasping. She felt hot, dizzy with the tumult of emotions swirling inside. Heavens how she wanted him, so much that he invaded her very dreams. She sank back, willing herself to be calm.
It was then that she heard a noise, the faint click of a door closing and the whisper of hasty footsteps past her room. Quickly she slipped out o
f bed and threw on her wrap.
‘Matty?’
Quietly she opened the connecting door, but the soft regular breathing from the bed told her that the maid was sleeping. She crossed the dressing room and went into Ellen’s chamber. A square of moonlit sky at the window offered sufficient light for Phyllida to see that the room was empty.
Alarm shook her. She hurtled out into the corridor, just in time to see a tantalising glimpse of billowing skirts disappearing around the corner. She followed, but when she reached the gallery she could see no one. Something caught her eye and she strained her eyes to peer across to the opposite landing where she thought she saw a figure, a shape, dim and ghostly, fading into the black-shadowed void of the passage. Picking up her skirts, she dashed around the landing and into that far corridor. Above the thundering of her heart she heard a stifled giggle but when she turned the corner the corridor was empty. Phyllida was alone. She bit her lip and looked at the doors. One of these rooms was Richard’s, Sophia had told her so, hoping its distance from the guest chambers would reassure her.
Silently Phyllida moved forward, straining her ears to listen. Nothing. Then she noticed the faint line of light beneath the second door. Someone was not asleep. She crept towards the door, a board creaked within the room and then she heard the faint but unmistakable sound of girlish laughter. Ellen’s laughter.
She had prayed she was wrong but now rage, dismay and hurt consumed Phyllida. In a fury she grasped the door handle and stormed into the room.
‘Ellen, you will leave here this min—’
Her words trailed away. A single candle burned beside the bed, which was empty. Richard was standing by the open window, but there was no sign of Ellen. The door swung shut behind Phyllida but she barely noticed, for her eyes were fixed on Richard.
The Chaperon's Seduction Page 20
