Regency Surrender: Infamous Reputations: The Chaperon's Seduction / Temptation of a Governess

He said with feigned carelessness, ‘It gives one a certain...standing, don’t you know, to have a murderer for a brother. I attracted all the choicest spirits at Oxford, most of ’em older, all of them ripe for mischief. I did not last a year before they kicked me out.’

‘Why, what did you do?’ The question was voiced before she could prevent it.

‘Gambling, drinking. Women. Then I moved on to London, where I found even more of the same pleasures to be enjoyed.’ His mouth twisted. ‘After all, I had to maintain the family reputation. Although I stopped short of murder.’

Her heart went out to him.

‘I do not believe the Arrandales are as black as they are painted. As for your brother—it was a long time ago but I know the whispers, the rumours, continue.’ She tried to smile. ‘They are probably much worse than what actually happened.’

‘I doubt it.’

‘Would you like to tell me?’

She spoke the words softly and wondered if he had heard them for he ignored her, idly swiping at a thistle with his riding crop. Phyllida waited and eventually her patient silence was rewarded.

‘I am no better informed than you about how my sister-in-law died. I was spending that winter with my great-aunt at Shrewton and my parents decided it would be best if I remained in ignorance of what had happened. Of course that state of affairs could not last, Sophia’s acquaintances soon informed her of the situation and she took me back to Arrandale but by then it was too late. Florence, my sister-in-law, had been dead three months and my brother was gone.’

He turned and began to stroll on. She fell in beside him.

‘How did she die?’

‘Fell down the stairs. Florence was pregnant at the time and the fall brought on the birth. The child survived but Florence died that night. Everyone thought Wolf had killed her. Oh, the death was recorded as an accident, my father saw to that. After all he’d had plenty of practice covering up his own transgressions.’ His lip curled. ‘I come from a family of wrongdoers, Lady Phyllida. My family history is littered with murder, abduction and thievery, the stories of Farleigh Castle pale in comparison. Wolf was merely following the family tradition.’

She shook her head, but did not contradict him, merely asked what had happened to his brother.

‘My father sent Wolf abroad immediately after the tragedy. Then Florence’s parents demanded the return of a diamond necklace. It was a family treasure, apparently, to be passed to the heir, in this case Florence’s twin, but she had borrowed it for her wedding and had kept it to wear on grand occasions. Only it wasn’t there. It would seem that Wolf took it to pay his way abroad.’

‘And do you believe that?’

His scornful glance scorched her.

‘Does it matter what I believe? My father refused to talk of it. I was sent back to Shrewton Lodge with a tutor to finish my schooling, then I was packed off to Oxford and by the following spring my parents were dead. Officially it was scarlet fever, there had been a particularly bad outbreak at Arrandale, but I think it was more likely the shame of it all that overcame them, at least for my mother.’

‘Or the heartbreak,’ she murmured sadly, thinking of how the tragedy must have ripped apart the family. ‘What happened to the baby?’

‘It was a girl. When my parents died she was sent to live with a distant cousin, the Earl of Davenport.’ A wry smile broke through for a moment. ‘Another Arrandale, but James is as sober as the rest of us are dissolute and he was thought the best guardian for the girl. He has a daughter of the same age, so it was deemed the best thing to do with the child.’

‘And Wolfgang? Where is your brother now?’

He spread his hands. ‘We never heard from him again. I made enquiries, hired men to search for him, sent letters.’ A muscle worked in his jaw. ‘It may be that he did not want to be found. Or he may well have been drowned on the crossing to France, there were some exceptionally vicious storms that winter.’

‘How sad, that he never had a chance to explain himself.’

Richard stopped.

‘I desperately want him to be innocent,’ he burst out. ‘Wolf is seven years my senior and I always looked up to him. Oh, I know he was hot tempered and rash, but he was never unkind, not intentionally. And I really cannot believe—’

He broke off. Phyllida saw the muscle working in his cheek. He was wrestling with profound grief and she wanted only to comfort him.

‘You really should believe he is innocent, Mr Arrandale, until it is proven otherwise.’

He did not answer. He did not appear to have heard her but remained staring at nothing, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Unhappiness wrapped about him like a cloak and there was nothing she could do to relieve it. A small cloud momentarily blocked out the sun and Phyllida shivered. The faint movement recalled his wandering attention. He was once again his usual, urbane self.

‘You have not yet seen the chapel, Lady Phyllida. Perhaps we should go back there now, if you have seen enough?’

He extended his arm.

‘Yes, please.’ She slipped her hand on to his sleeve. ‘These broken walls have lost their charm for me.’

* * *

As they made their way back across the ruins she noted that Lord and Lady Wakefield were still sitting on their stone seat. Ellen, Penelope and the two younger Wakefields were exploring what was left of the gatehouse. She eased her conscience with the thought that she was keeping Richard Arrandale away from Ellen. Wasn’t she?

* * *

The little chapel was built within the curtain wall of the castle and had been restored sufficiently for visitors to go inside. Richard stood back for Phyllida to pass before him into the narrow building. Odd that he had told her about Wolf. He had never said as much to anyone before. After all, what was the point? Everyone believed Wolf was guilty, he was just another in the long line of scandalous Arrandales. So why had he spoken so freely to Phyllida? Was it because she had seemed genuinely interested, prepared to think something other than the worst of an Arrandale?

Richard followed her into the centre of the chapel. Her soft boots made no sound on the stone flags, her skirts floated out as she moved, a silent figure in pale grey. She looked so ethereal that he could not help himself. He reached out and touched her shoulder. She turned and he found himself subjected to her enquiring gaze.

‘I beg your pardon,’ he said. ‘I needed to reassure myself that you were real.’

‘Of course I am real.’ Her mouth curved into a smile. ‘Did you think me a ghost?’

‘No, an angel.’

An angel sent to redeem him.

She was surprised into a laugh. The warm, delicious sound echoed around them, breaking the sepulchral calm of the stone building. Quickly she put a hand over her mouth but her eyes still gleamed with merriment, green as emeralds. His blood quickened. She no longer looked ethereal, she was a living, breathing woman and he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her.

He was aware of the change immediately and he knew she had read his thoughts. Her eyes were no longer alight with laughter but something else, an instinctive response to him. He felt the connection, the sizzle of excitement that held them immobile. They were less than an arm’s length apart, beneath her mannish jacket and white shirt her breast rose and fell as she took a deep, ragged breath. When she lowered her hand he reached for it, felt the quiver of excitement as their fingers touched, not in the least dulled by the soft kid of their gloves. They were caught in a bubble that tightened around them, moving them slowly but inexorably together.

The air shimmered with anticipation. He saw the tip of her tongue flicker nervously over her lips, as if she knew that they would kiss, that it was inevitable and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Looking into her eyes, he saw a shy smile there and he knew with startling clarity that she did not wish to prevent it. He was holding her hand, drawing her closer. They were breast to breast, he had only to lower his head now for the sweetness of a first kiss from those full, inviting lips.

* * *

Laughter, the chatter of familiar voices intruded upon the silence, breaking the spell. Phyllida jumped back, shaken. She felt very much as she did when she dreamed of falling and awoke with a start. What was she doing, standing so close to this man, wanting him to kiss her? She forced herself to turn away, to face the door where the Wakefields now appeared, the others crowding in behind them. Thankfully they all stopped in the doorway, blinking as their eyes grew accustomed to the dim light and that gave her the opportunity to recover herself and school her face into a semblance of calm.

‘Why, Lady Phyllida, you are here before us. We thought you were still wandering through the ruins.’

She forced herself to acknowledge Lady Wakefield’s cheerful greeting, to smile and make a suitable reply. The moment was gone, the small chapel was now full of people and noise. Phyllida linked her arm with Ellen’s and accompanied her around the small church, admiring the ancient tomb and the arched window with its elegant tracery. She did not look back at Richard. She could hear his voice, cool and steady with just a hint of amusement, but in her mind’s eye she recalled his face when they had stood alone in the chapel. The blaze of passion that had set her heart racing and then something quite different when they were interrupted. The look of shock, of horror, at what had almost occurred.

* * *

They did not tarry in the chapel and soon the party made its way back to the stables to collect the horses. Henry Fullingham was waiting for them, sitting on a mounting block and chatting with Parfett and Lady Wakefield’s groom. Phyllida blinked. She had not even noticed he was not with the others. To be honest she had noticed very little since that moment alone with Richard in the chapel. She heard Lady Wakefield murmur to her husband as they followed Phyllida into the stable yard.

‘If you were to ask me, Mr Fullingham is not at all interested in the romantic ruins.’

‘I quite agree, my dear,’ chuckled Lord Wakefield. ‘He lounged off in a sulk when it was clear the girls preferred Adrian’s ghoulish tales to his flirting. And look now, if he was hoping to help any young lady on to her horse he is foiled again, for the grooms are there before him!’

Lady Wakefield turned to Phyllida, saying as they watched the younger ones mounting up, ‘Well, ma’am, are you glad you came?’

‘I have enjoyed it very much, ma’am. I am grateful to you for arranging it.’

‘Thanks, too, should go to Lady Hune for her introduction,’ put in Lord Wakefield. ‘Without it I doubt our reception would have been quite so hospitable. The refreshments were truly exceptional. Pray, Mr Arrandale, tell Lady Hune we are obliged to her, when you get back to Royal Crescent.’

Phyllida had been lost in her own thoughts and had not realised Richard was so close. He had filled her thoughts and now the unexpected sight of him at her shoulder caught her unawares. The erratic beat of her heart disturbed her breathing. She was obliged to concentrate very hard to prevent herself from simpering and blushing like a schoolgirl when he asked if he might help her into the saddle.

She accepted in as dignified a manner as she could manage, trying not to think how strong he must be to throw her up so effortlessly. She forced herself to appear calm and unruffled while he checked the girth and adjusted her stirrup but her nerves were still on edge. She could not prevent her thoughts from racing ahead. What if he helped her down when they reached Charles Street? She would slide into his arms. They would envelop her, of course, and hold her close while he smiled down at her. His eyes would be gleaming with tender amusement and that would draw from her an answering smile before he bent his head and...and...

‘We must behave ourselves on the return journey, Lady Phyllida.’

Richard’s quiet words made her jump guiltily. He was standing beside Sultan, one hand resting on the gelding’s neck and only inches from her knee. She looked down at him, dazed, and saw just such laughter in his eyes as she had imagined. It stirred something deep inside her, something that disturbed and excited her in equal measure.

From across the yard Ellen called out with mock severity, ‘Indeed you must, Stepmama. Such a bad example you would be setting us!’

Phyllida was at a loss to answer her. She knew Ellen was referring to the madcap race across the turf, but she was aware that in the chapel she had come perilously close to being discovered locked in an embrace with Richard Arrandale. The look of smiling understanding in that gentleman’s eyes compounded her confusion. There was such warmth, such friendship in his glance that she could not resist smiling back at him, but as they set off on the long ride back she regained command of her senses and forced herself to face the depressing reality of the situation. Richard Arrandale had no interest in her, he was merely trying to put her at her ease in order to advance his pursuit of Ellen.

Chapter Six

The afternoon was well advanced by the time they rode into Bath and the party broke up in Laura Place.

‘What a delightful day,’ exclaimed Ellen. ‘Thank you so much for inviting me, Lady Wakefield.’

‘It was a pleasure to have you with us, my dear.’ Lady Wakefield’s smile encompassed everyone. ‘I think we all enjoyed it.’

‘Well, Lady Phyllida?’ Richard brought his horse alongside Sultan. ‘Did you enjoy yourself?’

She had had time to regain her composure and now answered cautiously, ‘The castle was well worth seeing.’

‘But originally you did not intend joining the party. Why did you change your mind?’

‘Does there have to be a reason?’ she parried lightly.

‘Well, I am very glad you did come,’ he said. ‘I have enjoyed renewing our acquaintance, my lady.’

Her brows went up.

‘Trying to turn me up sweet, Mr Arrandale?’

He grinned. ‘Could I do so?’

‘Never.’ She was in control of herself now, and felt confident enough to add, ‘I am no longer a shy ingénue, sir, to be impressed by your blandishments.’

She inclined her head, dismissing him, and walked Sultan across to where Ellen was taking her leave of Julia and her family. A brief word with Lady Wakefield and she drew her stepdaughter away, saying it was time they went home.

‘Oh,’ said Ellen. ‘Perhaps Mr Arrandale and Mr Fullingham would like to—’

‘No, I think not. We have imposed upon them quite long enough today. Good day, gentlemen.’ Phyllida’s voice was firm, she would brook no argument.

Richard touched his hat as they rode past him and once he had taken his leave of the Wakefields he was left with only Henry Fullingham for company. They turned their horses and made their way together towards Pulteney Bridge. Fullingham chuckled.

‘Well, I am indebted to you today, Arrandale. In trying to ingratiate yourself with the mother you left the field clear for me to cut you out with the heiress.’

‘Perhaps that was my intention,’ drawled Richard. ‘I knew she would soon grow weary of your inane chatter.’

‘Not a bit of it. Miss Tatham was as friendly as can be.’

‘Not when we were at the castle,’ Richard pointed out.

Fullingham scowled at him.

‘Not then, perhaps, but on the ride there and back she was clearly delighted with my company. Urmston’s right, she is a ripe plum, ready for plucking.’

‘Do not be too sure. There is a sharp intelligence behind Miss Tatham’s pretty face. She’ll not easily fall for your charms, Fullingham.’

‘Pho, Arrandale, that is sour grapes.’ He laughed. ‘Admit it, man, you have caught cold on this one. The widow has your measure. She’ll be spending her time keeping you away from her precious daughter and won’t spare a thought for the rest of us!’

They had reached the junction and Fullingham went on his way, still laughing. Richard rode slowly to the stables behind Royal Crescent. He couldn’t help thinking that the fellow was right, Phyllida might well be blind to the danger posed by the other men. She might even welcome their attentions towards Ellen, even those of Sir Charles Urmston. There was no doubt the fellow could be very charming, but underneath he was a villain. Richard’s mouth tightened. He meant to win this wager. When it came to women he had never yet lost out to a rival, and he had no intention of starting now.

And what of Phyllida?

Richard’s hand tightened on the reins. That incident in the chapel should never have happened. He had felt curiously lightheaded, probably from the wine they had been served at the house. It could certainly not have been anything else; he was not one to lose his head over any woman, especially one who was only tolerably pretty.

Although she did have particularly fine eyes.

And her smile. When she smiled she illuminated a whole room—

No! His only interest in Lady Phyllida was as Ellen Tatham’s guardian and as a friend of his great-aunt. If she were to confide her worries to the dowager that would make life difficult. Not impossible, but he should not like to fall out with Sophia. A bitter, humourless smile twisted his mouth. Phyllida had told him she did not believe the Arrandales were really so scandalous. This little adventure would show her how wrong she was.

* * *

For the next few days he concentrated upon fixing his interest with Miss Tatham. He paid morning calls in Charles Street, and when Ellen hinted they were going shopping he tarried in Milsom Street until they arrived, or he sought them out at the Pump Room and curtailed his own visit to walk them home. Lady Phyllida was cool, even a little reserved, but not overtly hostile and when Ellen informed him innocently that she and Lady Phyllida would be taking a stroll in Sydney Gardens with Julia Wakefield the following morning he made sure he was there, just in case he needed to head off any of his rivals.

‘Mr Arrandale, what a surprise to find you here,’ declared Ellen when she saw him approaching, not long after they had entered the gardens.

‘Yes, isn’t it,’ muttered Phyllida.

‘We are going to the labyrinth,’ explained Julia Wakefield.

‘Then I will walk with you, if I may.’

‘But we are going in the opposite direction to you, Mr Arrandale,’ Lady Phyllida pointed out. ‘Are you sure you have time?’

He ignored the challenge in her eyes and replied with a smile as false as her own, ‘All the time in the world, ma’am.’

He turned to walk with Ellen but Phyllida stepped between them.

‘Then that is very civil of you, Mr Arrandale.’

She proceeded to converse with him as they strolled along the wide path. Occasionally they were obliged to move aside to allow a carriage to pass, but every time they recommenced their walk she was there, at his side, and engaging him in conversation.

He wondered briefly if she was trying to fix his interest, following their time together at Farleigh Castle but he soon dismissed the thought. Then she had been open and relaxed with him. Now her cool friendliness did not ring true. She was on her guard and he thought it much more likely that she was suspicious of his motives. Clearly she did not intend to allow him a chance to converse with either of the young ladies and he knew better than to attempt it. When they arrived at the labyrinth he thought it politic not to offer to accompany them inside, and prepared to take his leave.

‘Oh, but you must stay and keep Phyllida company,’ Ellen protested. ‘She does not like the maze and means to wait for us outside.’

‘No, Ellen, that will not be necessary. I am sure Mr Arrandale has better things to do with his time.’

Lady Phyllida’s answer was delivered firmly. Clearly it was designed to dismiss him. He knew he should retire with good grace but his particular devil prompted him to stay.

‘I should be delighted to wait for you, Miss Tatham.’ He patted his pocket. ‘And I have a plan of the labyrinth, so if you get lost you only need to call out and I shall come to your aid.’

Phyllida’s eyes sparkled with indignation, but Ellen was duly admiring.

‘How gallant, and enterprising,’ she remarked. ‘Come along, Julia. Phyllida, pray you, wait on that bench for us—we will not be too long.’

* * *

The girls ran off, leaving Phyllida with Richard Arrandale. It was the first time they had been alone together since the chapel at Farleigh, when she had come close to making a complete fool of herself. It had not been mentioned, of course, and since then she had been careful to keep a distance between them. Until today, when she had put herself in his way and kept him talking. She had not been comfortable about it, but she was determined that he should not be allowed to give his arm to Ellen or Julia Wakefield.

She had to admit that he had taken it in good part and had behaved like the perfect gentleman, conversing with her as if there was nothing he would rather do. He had a knack of setting her at her ease, of making her feel important. Cherished. That was what made it so difficult to dislike him.

Yet it did not mean she should encourage him. She moved towards a bench.

‘I must not take up any more of your time, Mr Arrandale, so I will bid you good day.’

‘I assure you, Lady Phyllida, I am at your disposal.’

She sat down, saying with finality, ‘Really, Mr Arrandale, it is not at all necessary for you to wait with me.’

‘But I have a plan of the labyrinth.’

It gave her no little satisfaction to respond, tapping her reticule. ‘So, too, have I.’

‘Ah.’

It was then she made the mistake of peeping up at him. She saw his rueful look and burst out laughing.

‘Admit it, sir, you have been brought to the point non plus. There is no reason to stay now.’

‘Would you have me be so unchivalrous as to agree with you?’ he said, sitting down on the bench beside her. ‘It has never been my practice to abandon a lady when she is on her own.’

‘But I shall not be on my own once the girls return.’

‘Then I shall keep you company until then.’

His cool response flustered her.

‘But I do not wish for your company.’

He shifted to the far end of the bench and twisted in his seat to look at her, resting one hand negligently along the backrest. Phyllida remained rigidly upright, staring straight ahead. He really was the most infuriating man. Well, she hoped he appreciated her profile.

‘We could converse,’ he said at last.

‘We have already done so, on the way here.’

‘But there must be something we have not yet talked about.’

‘No.’

She could feel the warmth of his gaze upon her. It sent little shards of excitement to pierce the armour of cool civility with which she had surrounded herself. If only he would go away! She recalled reading somewhere that the best form of defence was attack and she turned to face him.

‘Yes, there is something. Why do you remain in Bath, Mr Arrandale?’

‘I enjoy spending time with my great-aunt.’

‘Is that truly the reason?’ She subjected him to a searching look.

‘Yes, truly. She was laid very low when Cassandra eloped, and I know how cruel the gossipmongers can be. None better.’ He raised his brows. ‘You look sceptical, Lady Phyllida. Do you not believe me?’

She pursed her lips.

‘I can believe you came to Lady Hune’s assistance when she wrote to you, but she is much better now and the image of you playing companion to an elderly lady does not quite fit with your reputation.’

‘Perhaps you should not put too much store by all you hear of me, ma’am. I am extremely fond of Lady Hune. When I was younger she was the only one of my family who had any faith in me and while she needs me I shall remain in Bath.’

‘But it is hardly London, is it? Do you not find it dull here? After all, Lady Hune demands very little of your time.’