The Chaperon's Seduction(35)

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.’

‘Nor 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.’