The Chaperon's Seduction(36)

‘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 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.