The Chaperon's Seduction

by Sarah Mallory

  Richard had committed many sins in his career but he had never deliberately set out to hurt anyone but himself. And his name. He had besmirched that with scandal, but any good that was left to the ancient name of Arrandale had been destroyed when Wolf fled the country. But Richard would not seduce a chit merely for a wager. He would leave that to those whose conscience was less troubled. His own conscience reared up uncomfortably, telling him he could not abandon Phyllida and Ellen to their fate but he beat it down again ruthlessly. He was more a knave than a knight in shining armour, even though Phyllida made him feel like one. Ellen Tatham was none of his concern and Lady Phyllida had shown herself more than capable of defending her ward. After all, it was only until Michaelmas. Three more weeks. And Sophia was in much better spirits now. If she could do without him he would quit Bath, and leave Lady Phyllida and Miss Tatham to their fate.

  Having made his decision, Richard rang for Fritt and dressed quickly, hurrying downstairs to join Sophia in the breakfast room.

  She said, without looking up from buttering a freshly baked muffin, ‘I expected Fritt to bring your apologies this morning. How’s your head?’

  ‘Aching damnably.’

  ‘It serves you right. Drinking dubious brandy at that gaming hell, then coming home and keeping me up to all hours and consuming nearly a bottle of my best Madeira.’

  Despite the headache Richard grinned.

  ‘You do not appear to be suffering from the night’s revels, ma’am.’

  ‘No, I am very well this morning. In fact I think I shall forgo my visit to the hot baths and take myself shopping later in Milsom Street instead.’

  ‘Your spirits are clearly restored, Sophia. I am very glad of it, for I think it is time I left Bath.’

  That did make Sophia look up.

  ‘Oh, might one ask why you should suddenly decide to leave me?’

  ‘It is not you, Sophia, but you know it was never my intention to remain here indefinitely.’

  ‘And what about that outrageous wager concerning Ellen Tatham?’

  He frowned. ‘I told you last night I have no wish to be involved in that.’

  ‘But you are involved, Richard.’

  He shook his head, which set off a thudding pain inside his skull. He said irritably, ‘I shall forfeit my stake, but I want nothing more to do with that damned affair.’

  Sophia did not reply, but he knew she would not let the matter rest there. In the ensuing silence he addressed his plate of cold meats. The food and a couple of cups of scalding coffee were beginning to take effect and he began to feel more hopeful. He would convince Sophia that she did not need him and he could be at Brookthorn Manor by the morning.

  ‘So you would leave Ellen Tatham to the mercy of the fortune hunters.’

  ‘She is none of my concern.’

  ‘And Lady Phyllida?’

  Let battle commence.

  How he regretted those words!

  ‘She is perfectly capable of protecting her own.’

  ‘Is she? Do you really think she can keep her stepdaughter safe from the rogues and libertines who are pursuing her? I do not.’

  He put up his hands.

  ‘Even if that is not the case she would not accept my help. She thinks me the villain of the piece. No, ma’am, it is better if I leave Bath.’

  ‘You promised to stay until I was better.’

  ‘You are better, Sophia.’

  ‘I do not think so.’

  ‘There is work to be done at Brookthorn. You are always telling me I should not neglect my estate.’

  ‘Brookthorn Manor has been neglected for many years. It will wait a little longer for you.’

  ‘Sophia—’

  ‘Dr Whingate will tell you I am not yet fully recovered.’

  ‘Whingate will say whatever you tell him—’

  Sophia dropped her knife with a clatter.

  ‘Must I beg you to stay with me?’ she burst out, a slight tremor in her voice that he had never heard before. Immediately he capitulated.

  ‘No, of course not,’ he said quietly. ‘I shall remain, if that is your wish.’

  He thought he saw a flash of triumph in her eyes but it was gone before he could be sure.

  ‘Thank you, Richard.’ She sat back. ‘And you will do your best to protect the heiress?’

  ‘Now, Sophia—’

  ‘I know, she is nothing to you, but she reminds me of Cassandra, and I would not like any harm to come to her.’

  Richard stared at his great-aunt. She had never asked anything of him before, save his company. How could he refuse? The image of Lady Phyllida rose in his mind, indignant, outraged. It would take all his skill to lay her ruffled feathers. A frisson of pleasurable anticipation ran through him at the thought of it, but there was alarm, too. Instinct warned him against tangling with Lady Phyllida.

  ‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘I will remain in Bath until that sawbones of yours tells me you are well enough to survive without me. And I will do my best to foil any attempts to seduce the heiress, but it won’t be easy. Ellen Tatham is as headstrong and spirited as Cassandra, and Lady Phyllida regards me with suspicion.’

  She smiled at that.

  ‘A challenge for you, then, my boy. At least you won’t be bored!’

  Chapter Eight

  For Ellen and Phyllida the round of parties, dances and outings continued unabated. Invitations poured in and it was difficult to keep up with them all, but at least Phyllida knew that with so many social engagements Ellen had little time for secret trysts or meetings, even if she were tempted to agree to them. Phyllida was gratified that Ellen was in such demand and the most pleasing aspect of it all was that Ellen’s head did not appear to be turned by all the attention. She was as happy to visit the library or the Pump Room with Phyllida as to dance the night away.

  Following her confrontation with Richard Arrandale, Phyllida was at pains to keep an even closer eye on her stepdaughter, but although Ellen’s suitors were as attentive as ever, Mr Arrandale was not one of them and it was a full week before they met again. Lady Wakefield had arranged a riding party to see the monument on Lansdown but Phyllida’s sister was due to arrive in Charles Street on the same day. Phyllida had planned to allow Ellen to ride out under Lady Wakefield’s aegis and with Parfett in attendance, knowing that if all else failed the groom was more than capable of quelling the high spirits of a girl he had known from the cradle. However, on the morning of the ride a carefully worded message arrived from Lady Wakefield to say that she had sprained her wrist and that the party would now be chaperoned by her married daughter, who was staying in Laura Place for a few weeks. The message was couched in the friendliest terms, which raised no suspicion in Ellen’s mind, when it was read out to her at the breakfast table, but Phyllida knew immediately what must be done.

  ‘I shall come with you.’

  ‘But what about Aunt Hapton? I thought you wished to stay and make sure everything was ready for her?’

  ‘I am sure I can leave that to Mrs Hirst. Besides, Olivia is not due until dinner time, and we shall be back well before then. Now, if you have finished your breakfast, Ellen, perhaps you would send word to Parfett to bring both our horses to the door.’

  ‘I will indeed. I am so glad you will be able to come with us, Philly, Parfett is always much more strict with me when you are not there!’

  * * *

  The party was to congregate in Laura Place, and when Phyllida and Ellen arrived, Julia and Adrian were already mounted and talking to Penelope Desborough. As the young people greeted one another Phyllida moved closer to speak to Lady Wakefield, who was standing at her door.

  ‘How is your wrist, ma’am?’

  ‘Very well, if I do not use it.’ The lady stepped on to the pavement. �
�A very silly thing. I was playing battledore and shuttlecock with my grandchildren when I slipped and fell.’ She looked towards the house, where Phyllida could see two young boys standing in the window. ‘There they are, Charles and Edwin, delightful boys, but so lively. They really wanted to come with you but Grace, my daughter, thought that at seven and eight years old they were too young.’

  ‘Perhaps next time.’ Phyllida smiled and waved to the little figures.

  ‘I admit I was hoping you would join the ride.’ Lady Wakefield dropped her voice a little. ‘Grace is the kindest soul but she is far too complaisant to keep a close eye on the younger members of the party.’

  ‘I would not have done so if your son was the only gentleman in attendance, but knowing that was not the case...’

  She let the words hang and Lady Wakefield gave her an understanding smile.

  ‘I know how anxious you are to keep Ellen safe, Lady Phyllida. I had hoped to keep it a very private riding party and was not pleased when Adrian told me Mr Arrandale was coming, but then, when Grace met Mr Tesford at the Italian concert last night and invited him to join us, I was most put out! However, it cannot be helped, and to forbid either of the gentlemen to come along would only make them more fascinating to the girls, do you not agree?’

  ‘I am afraid you are right, ma’am.’ She glanced around. ‘Perhaps they will not come.’

  That hope was immediately dashed when Lady Wakefield declared that she could see the gentlemen approaching now.

  ‘Well, you need have no fear,’ Phyllida told her. ‘I will be vigilant on behalf of the girls.’

  ‘I am sure you will and I am grateful, for I fear Grace will be little help to you on that front. Now, let me present her to you.’

  Grace Stapleton was a cheerful young matron a few years older than Phyllida and with a restless manner. She was constantly looking about her and when the two gentlemen arrived she immediately turned her horse and moved off to greet them. Phyllida let her go and afforded the men no more than a distant nod as the little party set off through the busy streets. She positioned herself close to the three girls, ready to head off any gentleman who tried to talk to them but her caution proved unnecessary. A glance ahead showed her that Mr Tesford was riding with Grace Stapleton while Richard had engaged Adrian Wakefield in conversation. She relaxed, satisfied that for the moment there was no danger.

  The open heights of Lansdown were soon reached and with the monument in sight they all cantered across the springy turf towards it. They agreed to leave their horses at a small stand of trees within sight of the monument and by the time Phyllida rode up with the Ellen, Julia and Penelope, the others had dismounted. Two of the gentlemen were already making their way towards the girls and Phyllida quickly requested the grooms to help the young ladies to dismount. Mr Tesford stopped when he saw Parfett run to Ellen’s side, but Richard Arrandale strode on and Phyllida warily watched his approach.

  He put a hand on her bridle.

  ‘Since your groom is engaged, perhaps you will allow me to help you down.’

  She was prepared for Sultan to throw up his head and protest at the strange hand on the reins but instead he stood quietly, unusually obedient.

  Traitor.

  ‘Well, my lady?’

  Richard was already reaching up to her. There was no choice, and just as she had imagined doing in a dozen restless dreams, Phyllida slid down into his waiting arms. They tightened fractionally and she wondered if he could feel the frenzied thud of her heart as she was pressed against his chest. How she would love to give in to the temptation to stay there, to close her eyes and rest her head on his shoulder, which was at such a convenient height for a tall lady. If only he had been a gentleman and not a rake. Disappointment seared and she addressed him sharply.

  ‘Thank you sir, I am perfectly able to stand.’

  ‘Of course.’

  He let her go and she stepped away from him, concentrating on shaking out her skirts so that he might not see the heat in her cheeks. She did not look up until her groom approached.

  ‘We’ll keep the horses here, m’lady, under the trees, until you’re all ready to leave.’ Parfett took Sultan’s reins from her and led the horse away, leaving Phyllida with only Richard Arrandale for company.

  ‘The others are heading for the monument. Will you allow me to escort you?’

  She ignored his outstretched arm and set off, saying as he fell into step beside her, ‘At least while you are here I need not fear that you are seducing my stepdaughter.’

  ‘I would be very unwise to attempt it here.’

  The amusement in his voice struck her on the raw.

  ‘You would be unwise to attempt it anywhere!’

  ‘I think you are right, ma’am.’ Her suspicious glance swept over him and he continued. ‘Would you believe me if I said I had no intention of seducing Miss Tatham?’

  ‘No, Mr Arrandale, I would not.’

  Richard sighed. What else could he expect, when he had teased her so at their last encounter?

  ‘Lady Phyllida, I swear, on my honour, that I have no improper intentions towards your stepdaughter.’

  ‘You have no honour.’

  ‘Does it not occur to you that there may be other men who may be a danger to your stepdaughter?’

  She waved a hand.

  ‘I am aware of the dangers. I will protect her from them all.’

  She spoke with confidence and he admired her spirit, but he was suddenly afraid for her, too.

  ‘Is there no male relative who can help you to look after Ellen?’

  She frowned, surprised by his question.

  ‘There are uncles and cousins enough. As you will discover, should you attempt to compromise her.’

  ‘Confound it, woman, I have no intention of compromising her!’

  ‘Oh?’ She stopped and turned to look at him. ‘What has caused this change of heart? A week since you were only too ready to do battle with me.’

  Richard looked down at the defiant figure before him. She was so slender a puff of wind might blow her away, yet here she stood, toe to toe with him. He felt the smile tugging at his mouth. She was at least talking to him. He would be honest.

  ‘You,’ he said simply. ‘You made me change my mind. I do not want to fight with you, Phyllida.’

  Her eyes widened and darkened as she understood his soft words. He saw the varying emotions played out across her countenance, the flash of understanding, then desire, quickly followed by fear and indignation. He was sorry when she began to walk on, keeping her gaze steadfastly ahead. He set off beside her, tempering his long stride to match hers.

  ‘You will not turn me up sweet with your practised arts, Mr Arrandale.’

  ‘I thought we had already agreed I could never do that. But perhaps I should take inspiration from Sir Bevil.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  He nodded towards the monument, soaring up into the sky and topped by its proud griffin.

  ‘Sir Bevil Grenville. He was a Royalist commander who fought his way up here and defeated the Parliamentarians, who were holding the high ground. Incredible odds, but he succeeded in opening the way for a Royalist march upon London.’

  ‘Really?’ she asked, diverted. ‘I knew the monument was something to do with the Civil War but I did not know its significance—there was a battle on this very spot?’

  ‘Yes.’ They had reached the monument and he followed her as she walked close to the railings that surrounded it. ‘It was erected nearly a century ago by his grandson to commemorate the battle. The griffin on the top holds the Grenville coat of arms.’

  ‘How fascinating.’

  He shook his head, pleased but bemused at the sudden change from frosty ice maiden to eager student. She was quite enchanting. Phyllida turned to
him, her former animosity forgotten, at least temporarily.

  ‘And what happened to Sir Bevil?’

  ‘Sir Bevil?’

  He looked into her eyes and felt something shift, deep inside.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘What happened to him?’

  Richard struggled to think.

  ‘Poleaxed.’ Was he talking of Sir Bevil Grenville, or himself? Something had changed within him, but for good or ill Richard did not yet know. He forced his mind back to Sir Bevil. ‘He was slain as his men gained the high ground.’

  She considered the monument for a moment.

  ‘So the poor man never lived to see his success,’ she said slowly. ‘And in the end it did not make any difference to the outcome of the war.’ She turned back to him and the twinkle in her eyes deepened. ‘Courageous, I grant you, but it is not inspiration you should gain from here, sir. Rather, you should take a warning not to attempt the impossible.’

  * * *

  Phyllida walked away, head held high. She was unable to suppress her smile and a delicious feeling of elation. The gentleman had certainly not been the victor of that encounter. Perhaps Richard Arrandale was not such a threat, after all.

  At least, not to Ellen.

  * * *

  The rest of the party were on the far side of the monument and Phyllida walked around to join them. Adrian Wakefield and Grace were trying to read the poems carved into the stone while the three young ladies were strolling arm in arm with Mr Tesford beside them. When he saw Phyllida approaching he gave a slight bow and moved away. She looked at the girls, her brows raised.

  ‘Have I interrupted something?’

  ‘Not at all,’ replied Ellen with feeling. ‘He is the most tedious character, always trying to separate us. Thank goodness you came and scowled at him.’

  ‘I did not scowl,’ Phyllida protested.

  ‘No, no, of course not,’ agreed Penelope. ‘But you did look a little serious, and the fact that he retreated so quickly confirms Ellen’s suspicion that he is up to no good.’

  ‘Really?’ replied Phyllida, startled. ‘Has he said or done anything untoward?’