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