for it was well known that his older brother had killed his wife and run away with the family jewels. Nothing had been proven, the matter had been hushed up as was the way with rich, powerful families, but everyone knew it all the same. Bad blood, they said, and Phyllida knew she should be grateful not to have attracted the notice of such a notorious rake as Richard Arrandale. But sometimes as she lay in her bed with her kind, worthy husband snoring beside her, Richard’s image would return and she could not help sighing for what might have been.
* * *
Too late had Phyllida recognised the tall figure standing beside Lady Hune in the Pump Room and recalled that the dowager marchioness was an Arrandale by birth. She was already committed to approaching, but when Richard had taken her hand and kissed it the years had fallen away and she was once again the awkward girl in her first Season, being saluted by a man who was the embodiment of her dreams.
Only, Richard Arrandale was not the heroic figure of her girlhood fantasies. She knew that only too well and looking up into his face she had seen the faint lines of dissipation about his mouth and eyes. There hung about him a world-weariness that made him seem older than his years, for he could not possibly be more than five-or six-and-twenty. Richard Arrandale was a rake and it was only his connection with Sophia, Dowager Marchioness of Hune, that made her acknowledge him and introduce him to her stepdaughter.
Phyllida took Ellen on a full circuit of the room but afterwards she could never recall just whom they had met, nor what was said. All she could remember was Richard Arrandale’s laughing eyes and the touch of his lips against her gloved hand. As she and Ellen left the Pump Room arm in arm she risked a last look back. He was still watching them, or, more correctly, he was watching Ellen.
‘What is wrong, Philly?’ Ellen stopped in the doorway and turned an anxious gaze upon her. ‘You are shivering, but it is not at all cold. Are you unwell?’
‘What? Oh, no, my love, no, not at all.’ She shook off her uneasy thoughts and summoned up a smile. ‘We elderly ladies are prone to sudden chills, you know.’
Ellen gave a little trill of laughter.
‘Very well, my aged Stepmama! I shall take you home, tuck you up in a shawl and feed you gruel.’
‘That will certainly do the trick.’
‘I hope so, because you promised we could go shopping today.’
‘Very well, let us do so immediately. It will be infinitely preferable to eating gruel,’ said Phyllida, laughing.
The sun came out at the moment and her spirits lifted. She was foolish to allow an old memory to make her so fanciful. She squeezed Ellen’s arm, quickened her step and set off for Milsom Street to indulge in a few hours of frivolous expenditure.
Having decided to pursue the heiress, Richard lost no time in making his plans. The Bath season did not start until October, but he was determined not to wait until then to advance his acquaintance with Miss Ellen Tatham. At breakfast the following morning he made his first move.
‘Do you wish me to come to the Pump Room with you again today, Sophia?’
‘Thank you, no. Duffy had the offending tooth removed yesterday and is quite recovered now. You must have more entertaining things to do than attend an old lady.’
‘It is always a pleasure to escort you, ma’am. And I was heartened to find that not all those attending the Pump Room are valetudinarians. Lady Phyllida, for example.’
‘Yes. She’s a quiet gel, but very sensible, and makes a good partner at whist. I have always liked her.’
This was very encouraging. He said, ‘You knew her before she came to Bath?’
‘We have mutual acquaintances in Derbyshire, near Tatham Park. I met her there often when Sir Evelyn was alive. Glad to see she is out of mourning now and back in the world where she belongs.’
‘What’s her background?’ Lady Hune shot him a swift, suspicious glance and he added quickly, ‘Lady Phyllida looks familiar, and I would judge her age to be similar to my own. I thought perhaps I might know her.’
‘She is possibly twelve months your junior. One of the Earl of Swanleigh’s two girls. The elder married Lord Hapton and Swanleigh wanted a similar success for Phyllida. She was presented in...let me see...’ninety-six and caught the eye of Sir Evelyn, who was then a widower and looking for a new wife to give him an heir. They were married within the year. Of course there was a lot of talk, but those who prophesied disaster were only half right. The hoped-for heir never materialised but the marriage seemed happy enough. When Tatham died last year it was assumed Lady Phyllida would go to live with her sister or with Tatham’s brother and dwindle into mediocrity as some sort of live-in companion, little more than a glorified servant. But give the girl her due, she refused to relinquish her independence. She retired to her house in Derbyshire for her period of mourning.’
‘And now she is in Bath.’
‘Yes. She has taken a house in Charles Street for herself and her stepdaughter.’ Sophia shook her head, adding darkly, ‘How that will work out I don’t know.’
‘Ninety-six.’ Richard’s brow creased in thought. ‘Hmm, seven years ago. I had left Oxford and was in town then.’
‘Aye, you were, and already kicking up a dust!’
‘I must have danced with her. Trouble is, ma’am, I danced with a deuced lot of young ladies in those days.’
‘It’s no wonder if you don’t remember her. Her looks were never out of the ordinary, nothing to attract you. Tatham, however, was desperate for an heir. I think he would have taken anyone.’ She looked up, saying sternly, ‘She is a fine young woman, Richard, and I count her a friend. I would not have you doing anything to upset her.’
He looked pained.
‘I promise you I have no intention of upsetting her.’
* * *
No, he had no intention of upsetting anyone, he thought, as he presented himself at the freshly painted front door in Charles Street later that day. He was shown into the drawing room, where Lady Phyllida received him with cool politeness.
He bowed. ‘I was pleased, yesterday, to renew my acquaintance with you, my lady.’ Her brows went up and he continued smoothly, ‘We met in town did we not, at your come-out. We danced together at Almack’s.’
This was a chance shot but he thought it had hit its mark. An added flush of colour painted her cheeks, but she spread her hands and gave him an apologetic smile.
‘I vow I cannot recall. I know my mother bullied every gentleman present to stand up with me, however reluctantly.’
‘There was no reluctance upon my part, ma’am, I assure you.’
‘But after, what is it...five years, six?...I am flattered that you should remember.’
She doesn’t believe me.
Richard kept his smile in
