‘Not Richard.’ She added, observing Phyllida’s look of shock, ‘He is my friend, we are on first-name terms.’
‘Oh, no, you are not!’ Phyllida drew herself up. ‘Ellen, this has gone far enough. I cannot condone your behaviour this evening. It was most improper of you to go off alone into the gardens. I should not have to tell you that. And if you do not mind me then I shall...I shall pack you off to your Uncle Tatham.’
‘You would not!’
‘Believe me, I would. It is for your own safety.’
Phyllida met Ellen’s reproachful glance steadily. This was too serious for cajolery, the girl must realise that she was deadly serious. After a moment Ellen sighed.
‘I beg your pardon, Philly. Are you very cross with me?’
Phyllida was not immune to the beseeching look in those blue eyes. She said more gently, ‘You are very young, Ellen, a mistake now could ruin your whole life. I have to do all I can to avoid that.’
‘But it was not your fault. Richard said—’
‘Mr Arrandale, if you please, Ellen. He is a dangerous character and I have no wish to hear what he said to you. Neither do I wish you to speak to him again this evening.’
For a moment Phyllida thought Ellen would refuse to obey her, but something in her face made the girl pause.
‘Very well,’ said Ellen at last. ‘If that is your wish, but you are very wrong about him, Phyllida. He really did rescue me from Mr Fullingham. If he had not been there I fear it would have been more than my gown that was undone.’
‘Ellen!’
‘Well, Philly, it does not do to be mealy-mouthed about these things.’ Ellen looked past her. ‘Oh, Julia and Penelope are waving to me. May I go to them? Please, Philly, I promise I shall be as good as gold for the rest of the evening.’
Phyllida frowned.
‘I should take you straight home,’ she said severely.
‘Oh, please do not do that, Philly. If you drag me away like a naughty schoolgirl that really would set tongues wagging. I have learned a valuable lesson this evening, I promise you. Let me show you that I can be a model of decorum and respectability.’
Fighting down the desire to insist they leave immediately Phyllida nodded and Ellen went off to join her friends. She was right, if they left so precipitately there would be questions and conjecture, and who knew what gossip might arise. Besides, Phyllida had brought the Desboroughs with her and she could not abandon them. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, fearing the next few hours would feel interminable.
‘Lady Phyllida, are you unwell?’
She heard the soft voice, warm with concern, and her eyes flew open.
‘Lady Denham, I beg your pardon. I have a slight headache, that is all.’
She tried to smile, to alleviate the anxious look upon her hostess’s face.
‘Ah, ’tis a migraine, I have no doubt. I suffer from them myself.’
‘No, no, merely the heat, and the noise. I shall be well again immediately.’
‘You will recover more quickly if you have a little peace.’ Lady Denham took her arm and led her from the ballroom. ‘There, that little door in the corner. It is my own little room and you may sit there quietly, if you wish.’ She laughed when Phyllida hesitated. ‘You are thinking someone might already be in there? No, you will be quite safe. The room is locked and the key is behind the very ugly vase you see on the console table over there.’
‘You are very kind, but I cannot leave Ellen—’
‘I will keep watch on Miss Tatham while you are gone, I know how you worry about her.’
Her hostess’s kindness almost overset Phyllida. She murmured gratefully, ‘Just ten minutes, then.’
Lady Denham patted Phyllida’s shoulder. ‘As long as you wish, my dear.’
Phyllida let herself into the little room. Candles burned in two of the wall sconces, not enough for sewing or reading, perhaps, but sufficient for Phyllida to make her way to one of the padded armchairs and sink down. The noise from the crowd was muted and she leaned back and closed her eyes. Really, when had she grown so old that parties such as this exhausted her? Honesty compelled her to admit her exhaustion had little to do with the party and everything to do with Ellen and Richard Arrandale. He knew about the wager, he had not denied that, but both he and Ellen denied that he had been flirting with her. Phyllida sighed. Ellen was a minx but she was not deceitful and if Richard had truly rescued her from one of her beaux then she should be grateful for it.
There was a sudden rush of noise. Someone had entered the room. Phyllida opened her eyes and sat up.
‘I saw you come in. I thought you might be ill.’
Richard turned to close the door behind him. It was only partly true. He wanted to talk to her. For once in his life he had been acting honourably and he wanted her to believe it. He needed her to believe it.
‘I am not ill, so you may return to the party and leave me in peace. But you will stay away from my stepdaughter.’
‘Blast it, Phyllida, why can you not understand that I am not trying to harm Ellen?’
With a cry of frustration she flew out of the chair.
‘Then just what are you trying to do?’
‘Damn it all, woman, I am doing my best to protect her!’
He pressed his lips together to prevent a further outburst. He was a man noted for his sang-froid, what was it about Phyllida that made his even temper desert him? She was facing him across the room and even in the dim light he saw her eyes were shadowed with pain. He wanted very much to go to her, take her in his arms and kiss away that troubled look.
Richard opened his mouth to speak but she put up her hand to silence him. She came towards him, her hands clasped across her stomach and when she addressed him the words were slow and delivered with an obvious effort.
‘Mr Arrandale, as Ellen’s guardian it behoves me to ask you what your intentions are towards my stepdaughter. You say you wish to protect her. Can...can it be that you, that you are in love with her?’
Oh, lord.
Richard looked into those soft eyes raised so anxiously to his and the truth hit him like a runaway horse. He was not in love with Ellen. In fact, he had no interest in the girl at all, except that she was Phyllida’s stepdaughter and if Phyllida’s happiness depended upon Ellen, then his did, too. It was so simple. He was in love with Phyllida Tatham.
The revelation shocked him, robbed him of speech for just a moment too long.
‘Of course not.’ Phyllida drew back, her lip curling. ‘You mean only to amuse yourself, do you not?’
‘No! Phyllida, I—’
‘You have no permission to use my name!’ She cut across him, her eyes flashing. ‘You can have nothing more to say to me, or to Ellen.’ She drew herself up, shoulders back, almost quivering with fury. ‘I shall give orders that you are not to be admitted to my house. We will of course be obliged to meet, since we have some mutual acquaintances in Bath, but believe me, sir, I should prefer to have nothing more to do with you.’
The disdain in her tone lashed him and he retorted without thinking.
‘And what of Ellen, will you forbid her to speak to me?’
‘No. That would be foolish in the extreme. It would merely push her into imagining herself as a latter-day Juliet.’
‘Always so damned reasonable!’
‘Yes, I am. I shall be watching you, Mr Arrandale. You shall not play fast and loose with my stepdaughter.’ She glared at him. ‘If you had any vestige of honour in you at all you would leave Bath now that I have found you out.’
‘Found me out?’ He shook his head, thinking of Urmston and Tesford and Fullingham. ‘Madam, you have it all wrong.’
‘Have I?’ she said furiously. ‘Can you deny you signed up to the despicable plan to ruin my stepdaughter? That you took advantage of my friendship with Lady Hune to effect an introduction with us?’
‘We were already acquainted.’
‘One dance at Almack’s,’ she said contemptuously. ‘And even that you did not remember.’
‘No, not at first, perhaps.’ Even as the words left his lips Richard cursed himself for a fool. He saw the flicker of pain in her eyes, brief but unmistakable, then she raised her hand and pointed one shaking finger towards the door.
‘Get out. Now.’
The words were quiet and all the more effective for it. Richard’s brain was reeling. He knew he was not thinking properly. There was nothing he could say or do to retrieve the situation. In silence he made a stiff little bow, turned on his heel and left.
Phyllida glanced at the clock. She had been in this room for more than the ten minutes she had promised herself. She must get back. She must find Ellen and take her home. A laughing group of merrymakers surged past as she slipped back into the ballroom and she had to flatten herself against the wall to avoid being crushed. Once they had moved on she looked around the room. Lady Wakefield and the dowager had found seats at the far side and Phyllida began to move towards them, wondering how best to explain to Lady Hune that she and Ellen could not go to Stonehenge. By the time she reached the ladies she had realised it was impossible to do so, when only moments ago she had accepted the invitation so eagerly. The dowager would insist on a reason for this sudden change of mind and Phyllida had no answer, without disclosing Ellen’s folly and Richard Arrandale’s dastardly behaviour to his great-aunt.