Regency Surrender: Infamous Reputations: The Chaperon's Seduction / Temptation of a Governess. Sarah Mallory
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think it is very much the point, my love. You were very young and innocent when you became my stepmama, were you not? Seventeen, in fact. As I am now.’
‘Quite. And I was very shy and retiring.’
‘Which I am not, so you may rest easy, my love.’
Phyllida shook her head at her. ‘You may think you know the ways of the world, Ellen, but there are gentlemen in Bath who may seem very pleasant and respectable, yet they are not to be trusted.’
‘Do you mean rakes?’ asked Ellen. ‘There were several residing near the school, hoping one of us would be foolish enough to run off with them. Mrs Ackroyd pointed them out to us.’
‘Heavens, I knew nothing of this!’
‘No, well, I could hardly write and tell you about it, you would have wanted to fetch me away immediately. In fact we had to sit on that sneak Bernice Lingford to stop her from gabbing about the whole. It’s a pity she doesn’t have a fortune, because without some incentive no one will ever want to run off with her.’
‘Ellen!’
‘Well, it is true,’ replied Ellen. ‘She is a spiteful, greedy cat, so no man could like her, even if she wasn’t buck-toothed and fusby-faced.’
‘Let us hope she will grow out of it,’ replied Phyllida, trying to be charitable. ‘However, we are straying from the point—’
‘The point is, Stepmother dear, that we were all perfectly safe at school. That was why Papa chose Mrs Ackroyd’s institution for me, because she is accustomed to having the daughters of the very rich in her care.’ Ellen drew up her knees and wrapped her arms about them. ‘She is very progressive, though, and thinks that education is the best preparation for any young lady making her come-out. She taught us what to expect from a husband, too, because she says mothers invariably make a hash of it. ‘
Phyllida blinked, momentarily silenced by her stepdaughter’s matter-of-fact statement.
‘I am very glad of it,’ she said at last. ‘But I would still urge you to be cautious. It is very easy for a young lady to lose her heart to a rake.’
‘But you said you never had done so,’ objected Ellen.
Phyllida was about to correct her but thought better of it.
Ellen continued thoughtfully, ‘It is not too late, though. We might well find you a husband in Bath.’
‘I do not want a husband! That is not why I came here.’
‘But you said yourself you were lonely at Tatham Park.’
‘That is true, Ellen, but only because I was missing your father. And you. I am very much looking forward to our time here together.’
‘But once I have made my come-out, what then? I have no intention of settling upon a husband too soon but I suppose I must marry at some point and then you will be alone again.’
Phyllida felt the conversation was getting away from her. She said crisply, ‘I am glad you do not intend to rush into marriage with the first young man who takes your fancy, so I need not contemplate my future for a long time yet.’ She slid off the bed. ‘Now, I have said what I wanted to say, although it would seem Mrs Ackroyd has already prepared you for the perils of the world, so I shall leave you to sleep.’ She leaned close to kiss Ellen’s cheek and felt the girl’s arms wind about her neck.
‘Goodnight, my darling stepmama. We shall have such fun in Bath together.’
Phyllida gave Ellen a final hug and made her way back to her own room. The discussion had not gone quite as she had imagined and she was beginning to suspect that looking after Ellen would be far more challenging that she had anticipated.
* * *
The next few days were filled with shopping and visitors. None of the gentlemen Ellen had met in the park were brave enough to call at Charles Street uninvited but when Phyllida took her stepdaughter to the morning service at the Abbey on Sunday it seemed that every one of her acquaintances wished to perform an introduction to Mr This or Sir That. Ellen behaved impeccably, but Phyllida found herself scrutinising every gentleman who came up to her, watching for signs that they might be trying to fix their interest with Ellen. There were several married gentlemen amongst their number, such as Mr Cromby whose jovial, avuncular style was not to her taste. Neither did she warm to the fashionably dressed widower, Sir Charles Urmston, although he appeared to be a favourite of Mrs Desborough, who made the introduction.
Phyllida noticed Lady Hune coming out of the Abbey on the arm of her great-nephew. The dowager looked magnificent, as always, in black and silver but Phyllida’s eyes were drawn to Richard’s lean upright figure. She thought how well the simple lines of the dark coat and light-coloured pantaloons suited him. When he removed his hat to bow to an acquaintance, his short brown hair glinted with gold in the sunlight. He looked like the epitome of a gentleman and she stifled a sigh. How deceptive appearances could be. The marchioness was moving through the crowd towards her carriage, but when she saw Phyllida she stopped and beckoned to her. Ellen was deep in conversation with Julia Wakefield and Phyllida did not call her away, preferring not to bring her into Mr Arrandale’s orbit more than necessary.
Lady Hune greeted Phyllida cordially and invited her to take tea with her later, a singular honour that Phyllida had no hesitation in accepting on behalf of herself and her stepdaughter. Too late did she recall that she had told Richard they were not free. She saw the laughter in his eyes and felt the heat rising to her face.
‘Your previous engagement today has been cancelled, perhaps?’ he murmured.
‘You are promised elsewhere?’ said Lady Hune, overhearing. ‘My dear, you must not break your engagement on my account.’
Phyllida shook her head, saying hastily, ‘I had mistaken the day. We should be delighted to join you, ma’am.’
Richard Arrandale was in no wise discomposed by the fulminating glance she threw at him, merely casting a grin in her direction before he turned aside to greet another acquaintance.
‘I am glad you can come.’ Lady Hune nodded. ‘You will be able to tell me how your charming stepdaughter goes on in Bath. Very well, if appearances are anything to go by.’
Phyllida followed the dowager’s eyes to where Ellen was now part of a lively crowd of young people.
‘She has already made new friends of her own age, Lady Hune.’
‘Which is as it should be—’ The dowager broke off as Ellen and Julia Wakefield ran up, their faces alight with excitement that could barely be contained while they made their curtsies. The old lady’s eyes gleamed with amusement.
‘You are clearly big with news,’ she observed solemnly. ‘You had best get it out before you burst.’
Julia giggled and Ellen, after a blushing smile towards Lady Hune, turned her expressive eyes towards Phyllida.
‘Lady Wakefield says there are the most romantic Gothic ruins just a few miles from Bath at Farleigh Castle. We are on fire to see them and Lady Wakefield says she will set up a riding party, if only you will give your permission, Philly. Dearest, do say I may go. Lord and Lady Wakefield will be accompanying us and Julia has a spare pony that I may ride—’
Laughing, Phyllida put up a hand to stop her.
‘Of course you may go, and there is no need to borrow a horse, for Parfett is even now bringing our own horses from Tatham Park. I thought we might like to ride out occasionally before the weather closes in.’
‘Will you come, too, Lady Phyllida?’ asked Julia in a breathless whisper, ‘It will be delightful if you can, I am sure—’ She broke off, blushing scarlet when she realised her company. ‘And Lady Hune, of course,’ she added hurriedly.
‘My riding days are over,’ replied the dowager, choosing to be amused by Julia’s artlessness.
‘If