to walk on. ‘The gossip has died down now in Bath but it is still mentioned occasionally, even though Lady Cassandra is married and gone out of the country.’
‘I had not thought of it before,’ said Ellen slowly, ‘but as exciting as an elopement is for the couple involved, there must be a great deal of horrid scandal to be endured by the family left behind.’
‘I am glad you realise that, my love.’
Ellen slipped her arm through Phyllida’s and gave it a quick squeeze.
‘Do not sound so serious, Philly, I have no intention of eloping.’ She added, with a mischievous gurgle of laughter in her voice, ‘And woe betide any man who tries to persuade me to it!’
The dancing had already started when Richard arrived at the Upper Rooms on Monday night. Miss Tatham was going down the dance with Henry Fullingham and he had leisure to admire her golden beauty, which was in no way dimmed by the simplicity of her embroidered muslin. As he stood waiting for the music to end he wondered if he had been wise to leave his arrival so late. The other gentlemen present would not waste any time in securing a dance with such a diamond. But his doubt was only momentary, and when Ellen’s partner escorted her back to Lady Phyllida, Richard made his way through the crowd towards them.
Ellen greeted him with a smile of unaffected delight and an assurance that she had saved a dance for him. The widow, he noted, had looked composed, even serene, until she saw him approaching and then a slight frown creased her brow. He must try to reassure her.
‘I hope you do not object, my lady?
‘Not at all, Mr Arrandale.’
The frown was put to flight by a smile and he thought how well it became her, warming her eyes and turning them a soft green. Or perhaps that was merely the reflection from her gown of sage-coloured silk. It was fashioned in the Greek style, falling in soft folds from the high waistline. Her hair was piled up and held in place by bands of matching green ribbon with a single glossy ringlet allowed to fall to her shoulder. It attracted his gaze to the flawless skin exposed by the low neckline of her gown.
A single teardrop diamond was suspended on a gold chain around her neck, drawing his attention to the shadowed valley between the softly rounded breasts. His thoughts strayed. In his imagination he was slowly untying the ribbons of the gown and pushing it aside while he laid a trail of kisses down the slender column of her neck and into that same valley...
‘Mr Arrandale?’
He started as Phyllida interrupted his reverie.
‘The sets are forming for the next dance.’
‘What? Oh, yes.’
His eyes searched her face. Could she have read his thoughts? The hint of a smile in her own and the direct way she met his gaze made him hopeful she had not.
‘Ellen is waiting, Mr Arrandale.’
The gentle reproof in her voice finally recalled his wandering attention. He took Ellen’s hand and led her to the dance floor, but for all the perfection of his dancing partner, Richard could not quite shake off the image of Lady Phyllida’s softly twinkling eyes. She was not conventionally pretty, but there was something very striking about Lady Phyllida Tatham that made it impossible to forget her.
* * *
Phyllida retreated to the benches against the wall to watch the dancing. There was no denying that Ellen and Richard Arrandale made a handsome couple. She noted that Mr Fullingham was still hovering nearby, clearly hoping to secure another dance with Ellen, but there were several other young gentlemen who had not yet stood up with her, and Phyllida would not allow any man more than two dances with her stepdaughter.
* * *
By the time the music was suspended for the interval, Phyllida knew that Ellen was a success. Not that she had ever doubted it, for her stepdaughter had beauty, poise and elegance, not to mention the fortune she would inherit when she reached one-and-twenty. She had danced every dance and there were still gentlemen waiting for the opportunity to stand up with her. Ellen’s present partner was Sir Charles Urmston, who accompanied them to the tea room, where supper was set out on sideboards. Phyllida was pleased to note that Ellen did not appear to favour the gentleman over any of her other admirers. She chatted away quite happily, but showed no sign of discontent when he left them.
‘Are you enjoying yourself, my love?’
‘Oh, immensely,’ declared Ellen, her eyes shining. ‘Everyone is so kind and the Upper Rooms are so grand, compared to the George, which is where we attended the assemblies with Mrs Ackroyd. And the company is superior, too. So many gentlemen, when we were used to dance mainly with the local farmers and their sons. But Mrs Ackroyd maintained that it was very good practice and she was right, for I was not at all nervous when I stepped on to the dance floor here tonight.’
‘Did you expect to be?’
Ellen’s brow wrinkled. ‘I am not sure—yes, I suppose I did, for I had never attended a real grown-up ball before, but it is the most tremendous fun. Oh, Philly! How can you bear to sit and watch? I know you love to dance!’
Phyllida had indeed felt a little pang of envy as she had watched her stepdaughter skipping around the floor, but now she said lightly, ‘I am your chaperon, Ellen. How can I look after you if I am enjoying myself on the dance floor?’
‘Oh, I do not need looking after,’ came the cheerful reply. ‘I am very well able to look after myself. So if we come again, Philly, promise me you will dance. I hate to see you sitting on the benches like an old lady.’
‘As to that, my love, we shall see. I do not want the mortification of having no one ask me to stand up with them.’
‘Oh, that won’t happen,’ replied Ellen. ‘I shall refuse to stand up with any gentleman unless he has danced with you first!’
When the music started up again Ellen’s hand was claimed by Mr Cromby. Phyllida watched the pair closely, not sure how Ellen would deal with the elderly roué. He was clearly paying her the most fulsome compliments whenever the movement of the dance allowed it, but her mind was greatly relieved when Ellen passed close by and threw her a look brimming with mischief.
* * *
It was not far from the Assembly Rooms to Charles Street, but Phyllida had arranged for her carriage to collect them. It was an extravagance, but she deemed it worthwhile, since they need not accept any of the numerous offers to escort them home. As they settled themselves into the carriage she asked Ellen how she had enjoyed her first ridotto.
‘Oh, I liked it very much,’ came the enthusiastic reply. ‘I do not think I missed a single dance.’
‘I can vouch for the fact!’ declared Phyllida. She asked, trying not to show concern, ‘And was there a favourite amongst your partners?’
Ellen was quiet for a moment as she considered the question.
‘Everyone was most kind. Sir Charles Urmston was very charming, was he not? You will recall he was the gentleman who escorted us to tea. And Adrian Wakefield, Julia’s brother.’
