Читать книгу Regency Surrender: Infamous Reputations: The Chaperon's Seduction / Temptation of a Governess - Sarah Mallory - Страница 15

Chapter Seven

The season had not yet started in Bath but the Assembly Rooms were crowded for the latest ball. Lady Wakefield had offered to include Ellen in her party, but Phyllida had decided she should go, too. She was concerned at the number of gentlemen who were vying for Ellen’s attention, so much so that she had mentioned it to Lady Hune, when they had met a few days earlier. Ellen was attending her dancing class and Phyllida had taken the opportunity to call upon Lady Hune and enquire after her health, but the dowager’s kindness encouraged Phyllida to confide in her.

‘I had not thought there would be so many gentlemen in Bath on the lookout for a wife,’ she admitted. ‘Ellen’s inheritance is held in trust until she attains her majority in four years’ time but even that knowledge does not seem to deter them.’

‘And does Ellen favour any of these gentlemen?’

‘No, she doesn’t, and that is the most comforting thing, ma’am. She is a minx, and willing to flirt with them, although I make sure she does not go too far, and I allow none of them to be alone with her.’ Phyllida stopped, frowning, trying to make sense of her worries. ‘I wonder if perhaps I made a mistake in bringing her to Bath. Only, she could no longer remain at the school, and to incarcerate her at Tatham Park would have been too cruel. You see, the families of her close friends have moved away and the society there is somewhat limited now.’

‘As you have discovered in the past year.’

She gave a reluctant smile. ‘Precisely, ma’am. Oh, I know I was in mourning, but it would have been a comfort to have at least a few families I could call upon, instead of having to entertain my husband’s relatives.’

‘Is that Walter Tatham?’ asked Sophia. ‘He was always a pompous slow-top. I never met his wife but I suppose she is the same—you need not say so, my dear, I can tell by your face that it is the case.’

‘I do not mean to be unkind, but when one has been the mistress of one’s own household for years...’

‘They tried to browbeat you, I suppose.’ The dowager gave a little huff of exasperation.

‘The thing is, they were against my bringing Ellen to live with me, and I...’ Phyllida bit her lip ‘...I wonder now if they were right.’

‘Nonsense, it is doing you the world of good to be out in society again. You have regained your glow.’

‘You are very kind, ma’am, but it is not about me.’

‘From what I know of your stepdaughter she is well able to look after herself,’ retorted Sophia. ‘She is a very pretty-behaved young lady, confident, yes, and spirited, I always like that in a girl, but she also appears to be quite sensible. She will do very well, as long as none of these fellows steals her heart.’ She fell silent and from the shadow of pain that crossed her face Phyllida thought that perhaps she was thinking of Lady Cassandra, her granddaughter. Phyllida waited, not wishing to disturb the old lady’s thoughts and after a few moments the dowager gave herself a little shake and resumed, saying briskly, ‘Let her enjoy herself, within the bounds of propriety, and she will do very well.’

Sophia had hesitated for a moment, then changed the subject. Looking back, Phyllida wondered if she had been about to ask if Richard Arrandale was one of those paying court to Ellen, but the old lady was sharp enough to know the answer to that. If Lady Hune would warn him off, then all to the good, thought Phyllida now, as she watched Ellen going down the dance with Henry Fullingham.

Phyllida felt a little guilty because her concern over Ellen was not the only reason she had decided to attend the ball. She had given in to the temptation to put on one of her old ball gowns. When she had seen that Phyllida was prepared to dance, Lady Wakefield had immediately found her a partner, and since she had assured her that she was perfectly able to keep an eye on Ellen as well as Julia, Phyllida gave herself up to the enjoyment of the music. She was not quite lost to all sense of her responsibilities, but Ellen appeared to have a partner for every new set, so Phyllida salved her conscience with the thought that the child could come to very little harm while she was dancing.

* * *

Richard saw Phyllida as soon as he entered the ballroom. She was on the dance floor, the folds of her peach-coloured gown flowing gracefully around her elegant figure as she moved. She was laughing at something her partner was saying, her face was positively glowing with happiness and his breath caught in his throat. She might not be an accredited beauty but there was an elusive charm about the lady that made her stand out from the crowd.

He dragged his eyes away. This was not why he was here, his goal was to secure a fortune by winning the hand of Ellen Tatham. The previous evening at Burton’s gaming hell he had heard the other fellows complaining that it was impossible to get the heiress alone. She was friendly to a fault, blushed adorably at their compliments, but made no effort to dismiss her maid when they were out together, nor would she allow herself to be separated from her friends. And if she was escorted by her stepmother the two were well-nigh inseparable.

Richard had said nothing but he was faring no better. In fact, whenever he met Ellen and Lady Phyllida the chit seemed to delight in palming him off on her stepmama. No, the only chance of a private word with Miss Ellen Tatham was on the dance floor and he quickly scanned the room for her. She was partnered by young Naismith, who was gazing at her with blatant adoration as they trod the final measure of a lively country dance. The music was ending and Richard saw his chance. He moved forward as Naismith escorted his partner from the floor. Ellen was already smiling but her smile widened when she saw him. Naismith was dismissed even before Richard had begged the honour of leading her out for the next set.

‘Mr Arrandale, how delightful!’ She tucked her hand in his arm and began to walk away with him. ‘I would be very happy to stand up with you, sir, but first you must dance with my stepmama.’

‘What?’

His step faltered but the little hand on his sleeve pulled him on. He could see Phyllida standing only feet away. She had just walked off the floor on the arm of an elderly brigadier.

‘It is a rule I have made for tonight,’ Ellen told him. ‘Stepmama, here is your next dance partner!’

The brigadier bowed and walked away. Lady Phyllida looked around, her smile slipping a little when she saw Richard arm in arm with her stepdaughter. Then, as the meaning of Ellen’s words sank in she blushed scarlet.

‘My dear child, do not be absurd!’

‘I told you I would not stand up with any gentleman tonight unless he had first danced with you.’

‘Does that include the brigadier?’ murmured Richard.

‘No, but he pounced on Phyllida without my having to ask him.’

‘Ellen, you cannot order people around in this way!’ hissed Phyllida, frowning at her.

Richard put up his hand.

‘Believe me, ma’am, I should be delighted to stand up with you.’

‘Thank you, sir, it is not at all necessary.’

‘Yes, it is, Philly, or I shall not be able to dance with Mr Arrandale, and you said yourself he is quite the best dancer in Bath.’

‘I said no such thing! Really, Ellen—’

Lady Phyllida was looking very flustered and Richard felt obliged to protest.

‘Miss Tatham, I cannot dance with Lady Phyllida if she is averse to it.’

Ellen’s face grew suddenly serious. She reached out and took Phyllida’s hands.

‘I only want you to enjoy yourself, Philly. Do you truly not wish to dance any more tonight?’

* * *

Phyllida hesitated. She could lie, and spend the rest of the evening sitting on the benches, watching everyone else enjoying themselves.

‘I would, of course, like to dance...’

‘There, I knew it.’ Ellen was triumphant. She stood back. ‘Off you go now. And, Mr Arrandale, I shall save the next dance for you!’

This was said so much in the manner of granting a child a treat that Phyllida, catching Richard’s eye at that moment, burst out laughing. It relieved the tension and he grinned back at her.

‘We have been outmanoeuvred, Lady Phyllida.’ He took her hand and led her away. ‘Your stepdaughter is very persuasive.’

‘She is outrageous,’ replied Phyllida. ‘I do not know what she is thinking of.’

‘Your happiness,’ said Richard, remembering the conversation he had had with Ellen during the ride to Farleigh.

She shook her head at that and took her place opposite him. The hot blush had cooled to a faint staining of her cheeks. It was very becoming, and in keeping with the smile that curved her lips and glowed in her eyes.

The music started, they saluted one another, stepped up, back, joined hands, moved away. They were in perfect time, thought Richard, their steps matching as if they had always danced together. A memory surfaced, clear as crystal. He suddenly remembered Phyllida at her come-out seven years ago: pale and shy in a room full of strangers. He had been pursuing his latest quarry, a dashing matron who had been throwing out lures to him for weeks, but every time he entered the hallowed walls of Almack’s the patronesses seized upon him and he was obliged to dance with any number of débutantes before he was allowed to escape. Some became simpering idiots as soon as a man spoke to them, others were so forward he indulged them in a fast and furious flirtation before disappearing into the crowd.

One night there had been a débutante who neither simpered nor flirted. She was tall and thin, pale as her gown, pushed forward by her mother and clearly being offered up to anyone looking for a bride. No wonder they called the place the Marriage Mart! Richard had taken pity on the girl, treated her kindly and taken her back to her dragon of a mother when the dance was over. Then he had returned to his dashing matron and forgotten all about the poor little dab of a girl.

Except, he recalled now, how it had felt to dance with her. True, during the first few bars of the music she had made a mistake and cannoned into him, but he had recognised that she was crippled with nerves and he had exerted himself even more to put her at her ease. After that she had danced beautifully, so beautifully he had thought at the time it was like holding hands with an angel.

That same angel was dancing with him now, holding his hand, circling, crossing, skipping around him. How could he have forgotten? All too soon the dance ended. Richard was unprepared for it, he was still confused by his memories. Mechanically he made his bow to his partner. Phyllida was not smiling, she did not meet his eyes and was reluctant to take his hand. In fact, he thought with dismay, she could not wait to get away from him.

Ellen was waiting as they left the dance floor, compliments on their dancing tripping from her tongue.

‘Yes, well, now I have done my duty and it is your turn,’ Phyllida responded, a shade too brightly, Richard thought, before excusing herself and hurrying away.

He led Ellen out to join the next set but he found it difficult to concentrate. His head was still full of Phyllida, how well they danced together, how he had enjoyed having her tall, graceful figure beside him. The way the candlelight glinted on the golden strands in her hair, the elusive, seductive scent of her. For pity’s sake he must stop this sentimental yearning and concentrate upon his partner. After all, Ellen Tatham was the prize he had set himself to win. Never had a dance seemed longer, or less enjoyable, but at last it was over. Richard surrendered Ellen to her new partner and took himself off to the card room, but the games held no allure and after a wasted hour he returned to the ballroom, his eyes immediately seeking and finding Phyllida, who was dancing with Sir Charles Urmston.

Richard frowned. Was that at Ellen’s instigation? If she was playing off her tricks on Urmston she might find herself undone. He stationed himself against one wall and watched until the dancers reorganised themselves for the next set and he was relieved to see Ellen stand up with Adrian Wakefield. Phyllida, he noticed, had detached herself from Urmston and was standing on the far side of the room. She looked composed now. Had she enjoyed dancing with Urmston? More so than standing up with himself? The idea annoyed him.

As if aware of his scrutiny she looked across at him and their eyes met, but she looked away again immediately. That annoyed him, too, as did the temptation to cross the room and join her. What was he thinking? A little dalliance was one thing, sufficient to win the lady over, but anything more would not help him to win Miss Tatham’s hand and that was his objective. Wasn’t it?

He wanted to leave, to clear his head, but Tesford and Cromby were clearly waiting to pounce on Ellen when the dancing ended and he knew he should stay. It was not in his interests to let any of them gain an advantage with the heiress. He glanced at his watch. There would be a break for refreshments next and Richard knew what to do. A quiet word with George Cromby came first, telling him that his wife’s bosom friend was looking for him. That sent the fellow scuttling away to the card room. The music faded and young Wakefield was leading Ellen back to Phyllida. Urmston and Tesford were already closing in, determined to escort the ladies into supper. Richard made his move. A judicious nudge sent a waiter’s tray flying and claret cascaded over Tesford’s white-quilted waistcoat, forcing him to retire. He then intercepted Sir Charles on the pretext of asking him about the mare he was selling. By the time Urmston had shaken him off it was too late for him to do any harm: young Wakefield had carried off Ellen and her stepmother to join his family. Richard sank down on the fast-emptying benches in the ballroom. He needed to think.

* * *

Phyllida listened to Ellen chattering away to the Wakefields but the words did not make sense. Nothing had made sense since she had danced with Richard Arrandale. The moves, the touch of hands, the closeness of their bodies when the dance brought them together—it had stirred emotions within her that she had never felt before. The crowd had disappeared; for a while it had been just her and Richard, alone together. Of course it did not last and she was foolish to wish it could. It was just a dance and however much he might smile into her eyes, however much she might read into his look, he was merely being courteous, as he had been all those years ago.