* * *
The mood around the gaming table was very cheerful, which was not surprising, Richard thought. None of them had won the wager to seduce the heiress, and the agreement they had drawn up now meant that each of them would be getting back the majority of his stake. Burton himself had brought the betting book and his cash box and was even now counting out the money and taking a small commission for himself.
Sir Charles Urmston’s voice made it heard above the general conversation.
‘So Arrandale, the widow outfoxed you in the end.’
Richard instructed a hovering waiter to attend to a guttering candle before replying, ‘It would appear so.’
‘Miss Ellen Tatham and her reputation are unblemished and I hear the widow is taking her out of Bath at the end of the week.’
‘Can you blame her?’ declared George Cromby. ‘Keeping an heiress out of harm’s way must be an exhausting business. To be honest I am glad this damned affair is over. If my wife had got wind of it I should have been in the suds!’
‘Nevertheless it grieves me to let a fortune go begging,’ muttered Tesford. ‘What say you, Urmston?’
‘One should know when to admit defeat,’ murmured Sir Charles. He shot a malevolent glance towards Richard. Neither man had spoken of their encounter at Shrewton but it was there, between them. It did not worry Richard. Urmston was a bully. He had a sharp tongue, but he was unlikely to cause any more damage.
‘The gel is being presented next year,’ said Cromby. ‘You single gentlemen could go to London and try your luck there. It may prove easier in town.’
‘I doubt it,’ grumbled Fullingham. ‘If Arrandale with all his famous charm couldn’t win the chit in Bath I don’t see any of us succeeding in London, where a host of more eligible suitors are likely to be pursuing her.’
‘And the stepmother has proved herself a veritable dragon,’ drawled Urmston. ‘Surprising for one who looks so insignificant.’
It was all that Richard could do to stay in his seat, but if he leapt to Phyllida’s defence that would only rouse conjecture. No, he thought as he made his way back to Royal Crescent in the early hours of the morning, he had done enough damage to Phyllida. Best that he should stay well away in future. At least he had the best part of his thousand pounds back. That would go some way to the repairs needed at Brookthorn. If only he could get back there, but Sophia insisted she was not yet well enough for him to leave her. Most likely she was lonely, he concluded, but although he sympathised he knew he could not remain much longer. Bath held too many painful memories for him.
* * *
The following morning he tried to persuade his great-aunt again that she could do without him, only to be met with the same story. The journey from Shrewton had taken its toll and she was not yet recovered.
‘And Phyllida’s decision to quit Bath has overset me,’ she continued. ‘Do you tell me that has nothing to do with you, Richard?’
‘I shall not tell you anything,’ he replied, shying away from even thinking about it.
‘Have you tried talking to her?’
‘Phyllida does not believe in reformed rakes.’
‘By heaven, boy, then you must persuade her!’
He put up his hand as if to ward off a blow.
‘Sophia, please, do not continue with this. It does not concern you.’
‘You are my family, Richard, of course it concerns me.’ She stared at him for a moment, until his implacable look convinced her he was not to be moved. She sighed. ‘Very well, I will not tease you more with it. But perhaps you will do a little errand for me? I have a book from the circulating library in Milsom Street and wonder if you will return it for me?’
‘With pleasure, ma’am, but do you not wish to come with me? It is a fine day for a stroll.’
‘Thank you, Richard, but, no. I shall wait here for your return.’
* * *
Richard set off immediately, pondering upon his great-aunt’s health. Whingate was currently in the country but as soon as the doctor returned he would ask him to call. It was unlike Sophia to be so lacking in energy. It did not take Richard long to reach the library and his task was soon completed. He was turning to leave when he heard someone call his name.
‘Miss Tatham!’
She beckoned him towards the shelves where she was standing. She drew a book from the row before her and, pretending to peruse it, said quietly, ‘I have been waiting for you.’
Richard kept his distance. He picked up a book.
‘This is not wise, Ellen,’ he said warily. ‘We should not be seen together.’
‘Oh, fiddle, I know you have no designs upon me.’
‘That is not the point.’
‘How long do you stay in Bath?’
‘Another week, no more. As soon as Whingate pronounces my great-aunt fit I shall leave.’
‘Where will you go?’
‘I do not know, and if I did I should not tell you,’ he responded bluntly.
She pouted but did not pursue the matter. Instead she said, ‘I saw a man following me yesterday. Is he your creature?’
‘Why, yes, although I doubt if there is a need for it now.’
‘Oh, pray do not take him away just yet.’
His brows rose a little. That damned wager must have unsettled the girl more than he had realised.
‘If you wish I will leave the men in place until you leave for Tatham Park.’
‘Thank you. Phyllida would be overcome with grief if anything should happen to me.’
Richard barely noticed the blinding smile she gave him, his thoughts distracted by a stab of jealousy. Would Phyllida grieve if anything happened to him? He doubted it.
‘I feel much safer knowing you are looking out for me,’ murmured Ellen. She looked around. ‘You had best go. I sent Matty off on an errand but she will return any moment and I would not have Phyllida know we had been speaking together.’
He could not help himself.
‘How is your stepmama?’
Ellen gave him a thoughtful look.
‘She is in very low spirits.’
Her words twisted like a knife, but he forced himself to say cheerfully, ‘No doubt she will revive once she is back at Tatham.’
‘I think she is more like to go into a decline.’
He said quickly. ‘Why do you say that?’
Ellen gave him an innocent look.
‘Oh, I do not know, but she has been quite out of spirits since we returned from Shrewton. I wonder why that should be?’
‘I have no idea, Miss Tatham.’ He lifted his hat. ‘Good day to you.’
He hoped Sophia’s doctor would give him a good report of her health when he returned at the end of the week. He needed to get out of Bath, whether to lose himself in the distractions of London or immerse himself in the business of restoring Brookthorn he did not care, as long as it helped him to forget Phyllida Tatham.
* * *
Phyllida carefully folded another gown and laid it on top of the clothes already packed into the trunk. Tomorrow they would set off for Tatham Park and everything must be in readiness. Matlock had offered to do the packing for her, but Phyllida had instructed her to accompany Ellen to Laura Place to join Lady Wakefield’s sketching party. The invitation had included Phyllida but she had used the excuse of their imminent departure to cry off.
In truth she had no spirits for company and she knew Ellen would be perfectly safe with Lady Wakefield, who had assured her that no gentlemen would be accompanying them. It had been impossible to refuse all the invitations that had come in over the past week but Phyllida had accepted only those where she could be certain she would not meet Richard. Her plan had worked, she had not seen him, but he was there, in her mind, ready to fill her thoughts as soon
as she let down her guard.
He crept in now as she laid the peach silk in the trunk. It was the gown she had worn to the Denhams’ party. How her spirits had soared when she had danced with Richard. Her heart had beat so heavily it had almost drowned out the music, especially when he had smiled at her and she had felt her own smile spreading until it felt as if her whole face was beaming with delight. With an impatient huff she turned away from the trunk. What a simpleton she was and how he must have laughed at his easy conquest. Even then, with ample evidence to the contrary, she had been prepared to believe he was a good man.
But no more. At Shrewton Lodge he had shown his true colours, he had seduced her and shown no remorse. Instead he had laughed at her. Going down on one knee he had ridiculed her with actions that brought back memories of their one dance at Almack’s and her foolish daydream that she might reform him. She had felt quite sick then, much as she had done when she was a girl, sitting on the benches while the gentlemen passed her over in favour of those who were prettier, livelier, richer...
Angrily Phyllida dashed away a tear. She was no longer that shy innocent girl but a woman of independent means with a stepdaughter to consider. She had been foolish enough to fall in love with Richard Arrandale, but she would not let that break her. Life would go on and she would survive her mistake. Her hands slid protectively across her stomach. Whatever the consequence of giving into her passion, she would survive.
* * *
Through the open door voices floated up from the hall below. Matty had returned and was even now coming upstairs. Quickly Phyllida wiped her cheeks. No one must know her weakness, the constant aching loneliness that filled her waking moments. It would pass. Pray heaven it would pass quickly.
She heard Matty’s firm tread on the landing and prepared to greet her, but when the maid appeared she was far too distressed to notice Phyllida’s forced cheerfulness. She burst out wildly,
‘Oh, my lady, I’ve lost Miss Ellen!’
Chapter Fourteen
‘What do you mean, you have lost her?’
Phyllida stared at Matlock, whose usually severe countenance was wild and ravaged by tears.
‘Miss Ellen said she wanted to buy a little present for Miss Julia so we stopped in Milsom Street on the way to Lady Wakefield’s, to buy some ribbons. Miss Ellen asked me to wait outside. Well I thought nothing of that, for there was her parasol to hold, and her sketchpad and pencils, and the shop was very crowded. So I waited, and when she didn’t come out after ever such a long time I went in, but she wasn’t there. The assistant said she thought Miss Ellen might have left by the side door, the one that comes out into the passage. I went on to Laura Place, thinking somehow I had misunderstood her. But she wasn’t there, my lady. She had never arrived.’
‘Oh, good heavens!’ Phyllida put her hands to her cheeks but Matlock hadn’t finished.
‘The family had already set off for Beechen Hill. Lady Wakefield’s butler told me they had received a note from Miss Ellen crying off from the sketching party.’ Matty sank down on to a chair and pulled out her handkerchief. She said, between noisy sobs, ‘Oh, my lady, I do fear Miss Ellen has run away.’
‘I do not believe it,’ declared Phyllida, but in her heart there was already a numbing chill when she recalled the fierce hug Ellen had bestowed upon her before setting off that morning. She ran into Ellen’s room and her heart shrank into a hard icy block when she saw the note propped against the trinket box on the dressing table. With trembling hands she picked it up.
‘Oh, my lady, what does she say?’
Matlock’s shaking voice came from the doorway.
‘It would seem you are right, Matty, she has run away. Eloped,’ Phyllida replied calmly, but inside she was burning up. How had she missed the signs? Ellen had shown no preference for any of the gentlemen who clustered about her. Who had stolen her heart? Phyllida knew that only the deepest passion would have persuaded Ellen to take such a rash step. She closed her eyes.
Please, please let it not be Richard....
‘I beg your pardon, ma’am, but Mr Arrandale is below, and insists upon speaking to you.’ The butler’s voice was like the answer to her silent prayer. ‘I am very sorry, my lady, but I couldn’t keep him out, leastways not without an unseemly scuffle on the doorstep, so I’ve put him in the morning room. If you like, I could fetch Patrick and the scullery boy to try to eject him...’
‘No. Thank you, Hirst, I will go down to him.’
Pulling herself together, Phyllida followed the butler to the morning room, where she found Richard pacing the floor. Almost before Hirst had closed the door upon them he spoke.
‘Did you know Ellen was going out of town today?’
She shook her head.
‘She was engaged to join the Wakefields for a sketching party to Beechen Hill. Her maid has just returned to say Ellen gave her the slip in Milsom Street.’
His brow darkened still further.
‘My man tells me he saw Ellen climbing into a travelling carriage at the White Hart. The blinds were drawn down so he could not see who else was in the carriage, but there was a quantity of luggage on the roof.’
Phyllida swayed. She put a hand out and gripped a chair back.
‘So it is true. She has eloped.’
‘This is no time for weakness, madam,’ he said roughly. ‘I have sent runners to find out which road they are taking. My curricle is outside, if you will allow me to drive you, we should be able to catch up with them before nightfall.’
His brusque tone steadied her. She could send a message to the stables for her own carriage, but that would take half an hour at the very least, and by that time who knew where they might be?
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘You are right. There is no time to lose. I will fetch my cloak and bonnet.’
‘Good girl. I shall wait for you outside. I told my people where to find me, if there was any news.’
Phyllida ran back up the stairs. She must keep her mind upon the task of finding Ellen. Questions about why Richard should be going to so much trouble could wait.
* * *
Minutes later she was heading out of the door, tying her cloak strings as she went. Richard was standing beside his curricle, talking to a soberly dressed man in a plain brown frockcoat. With a nod he dismissed the man and turned to hand Phyllida into the curricle.
‘They were taking the London Road,’ he said shortly. ‘We can ask after them at the turnpikes.’ He added, after a brief hesitation, ‘I have not brought Collins, I thought you would prefer that we should travel alone.’
‘Yes, thank you. The fewer people who know of this the better.’
They set off at a cracking pace. Phyllida clung on to the side of the curricle at first, until she grew accustomed to the speed.
‘Tell me,’ she said then. ‘Who was that man?’
‘One of those I hired to keep watch over Ellen. I apologise, I know I had no right to do so, but I wanted only to keep her safe. You cannot know how much I regret I did not prevent that damnable wager from ever taking place.’
Her hand fluttered. She said shortly, ‘All that matters now is that we find them.’
Phyllida’s worries about losing track of their quarry soon eased. At every turnpike the keeper recalled seeing the travelling carriage occupied by a fashionably dressed gentleman and a beautiful young lady in a pale-blue walking dress.
‘At least we can be confident they are not heading to Gretna,’ remarked Richard, setting his team in motion again after quizzing the pike keeper at Bathford.
‘Nor London,’ said Phyllida as they set off towards Melksham.
‘No.’ He frowned. ‘That surprised me, for they might be expected to hide in town for weeks, certainly until they could persuade someone to marry them.’
‘Perhaps this...thi
s gentleman, whoever he is, has no thoughts of m-marriage.’
‘From what I know of your stepdaughter I would not expect her to settle for anything less,’ he retorted. ‘What exactly did she say in her letter?’
Phyllida clasped her hands together hard and tried to stop her voice from shaking. ‘That the task of protecting her was too much to ask of me. That she w-wanted to relieve me of the burden. I s-suppose she thinks a husband is the answer.’
Richard gave a crack of laughter. ‘Heaven help the husband!’
Phyllida racked her brains, trying to think back for any clue, any sign she had missed that would have told her what Ellen was planning. With a gasp she clutched at his arm. ‘Richard! She was talking to your great-aunt about a special licence. That means they only have to hide out somewhere for a week!’
‘They would still have to convince a priest that she is of age. And even then the marriage would be illegal.’
‘But the damage will have been done.’ Phyllida bit her lip. ‘She will be ruined. Oh, who can have persuaded her to embark upon this outrageous scheme? I would like to think it is a young man who truly loves Ellen, but I very much fear it is someone who has designs upon her fortune.’
‘Someone like me, perhaps?’
She said quietly, ‘I no longer think you want Ellen for her fortune.’ It was true. His concern for Ellen argued that he cared a great deal for her. Her hands were locked together so tightly it was almost painful. ‘My biggest worry is that it might be Sir Charles Urmston.’
‘Urmston left Bath yesterday morning,’ he told her. ‘Let me put your mind at rest on one point, Phyllida. Whoever it may be, if he does not make Ellen happy then he shall answer to me. She shall not be tied to him, even if I have to make her a widow to prevent it.’
So there it was. Even through her anxiety for Ellen she could feel her heart breaking.
* * *
They continued in silence, until they reached the village of Atford, where the road forked. Richard pulled up outside the church. Phyllida looked at the diverging roads and beat her fist upon her skirts in frustration.
The Chaperon's Seduction Page 23
