The Chaperon's Seduction(37)

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.