Catespin blinked, her look of spurious sympathy replaced by one of surprise.
‘Oh. You...you approve of the match?’
‘We do not challenge it,’ put in Lady Hune, every inch a marchioness. ‘I might have preferred a different husband for her, but one cannot always regulate one’s affections. My granddaughter is lawfully married now, there is nothing more to be said.’
‘Ah, of course. I see.’ The wind might have been taken out of Lady Catespin’s sails, but she was not yet becalmed. ‘And you are here to support your great-aunt, Mr Arrandale. Your family is no stranger to tribulation, is it, sir, what with your brother...?’ She gave a gusty sigh and turned her eyes back to Lady Hune. ‘I am sure your great-nephew will know just how best to comfort you, my lady.’
‘He would, if I needed comfort,’ retorted Sophia, losing patience. ‘What I do need is his arm to push through the crush of gossiping busybodies one finds in the Pump Room these days!’
Lady Catespin drew back at that, flushing beetroot.
‘That’s spiked her guns,’ murmured Richard as they walked away from the speechless matron. ‘I thought you said we should merely smile and ignore their barbs?’
‘I forgot myself. Bad enough that she should goad me about Cassie, but to bring up something that happened years ago was more than flesh and blood can bear!’
Richard shrugged. ‘You have no need to rush to my defence. I have grown used to the censure, even from my own family. Everyone except you thought I was wrong to stand by my brother, ma’am.’
‘I really do not know why they were all so quick to condemn Wolfgang. Nothing was ever proved.’
‘But Father was convinced he murdered his wife. Convinced enough to try to break the entail.’
Lady Hune waved one dismissive hand. ‘Whatever Wolfgang has done he is still your brother. The world is too quick to censure, in my opinion, and in Bath they are more self-righteous than anywhere else.’
‘Dash it, Sophia, if that is the case why do you stay?’
‘For my health.’ She added with a wicked glance, ‘And the fact that I enjoy gossip as much as anyone. There is very little else to do when one is my age!’
They had reached the pump and waited silently while a bewigged-and-liveried footman dispensed a beaker of the warm water to Lady Sophia. She sipped it with obvious distaste while Richard stood patiently beside her. Glancing around the crowded room, he nodded to a few acquaintances, including a couple of gentlemen from the gambling hell. He was just wondering how much longer his great-aunt would want to remain when he heard her exclaim.
‘Ah, I was wondering if she would make an appearance today.’
‘Who, ma’am?’ He was at that moment observing a rather handsome brunette who was casting roguish looks in his direction and so did not look round.
‘Phyllida Tatham. And she has brought her stepdaughter with her.’
The heiress. Richard’s interest sharpened immediately. The dashing brunette was forgotten and his eyes moved to the door, where two ladies were hesitating on the threshold. They were both fashionably attired but his eyes were immediately drawn to the dainty blonde dressed in a cream-muslin gown with a blue spencer fastened over it. A straw bonnet rested on her golden curls, held in place by a blue ribbon, tied at a jaunty angle beneath one ear. This enhanced the startling perfection of her heart-shaped face with its straight little nose and huge, cornflower-blue eyes. Her companion was slightly taller and far less striking in a simple walking dress the colour of rose leaves with a matching cap pinned to her neat brown hair. At least, he considered her less striking until she spotted Lady Hune and a sudden, wide smile transformed her countenance. He was reminded of the sun breaking through on a cloudy day.
‘Ah, good. She’s seen me and is coming over.’
Richard stifled an exclamation. ‘That is Lady Phyllida? Why, she is scarcely older than her stepdaughter.’
‘Tatham married her almost out of the schoolroom,’ Sophia told him. ‘Nice gel, never a hint of scandal to her name, although there was no end of talk at first, because Sir Evelyn was almost in his dotage.’
‘Lady Hune.’ The widow came up and sank into a graceful curtsy before the marchioness. ‘I am very glad to find you here, for I would like to present my stepdaughter to you.’
So this was the heiress. Richard surveyed Miss Ellen Tatham with a coolly professional eye. She was certainly a beauty, from her guinea-gold curls to the dainty feet peeping out beneath the hem of her embroidered muslin. Her figure was good, her tone lively without being strident and she bore herself well, greeting Sophia with a pretty deference that he knew would please. Great heaven, even without a fortune every red-blooded male in Bath would be falling over themselves to court her!
‘...my great-nephew, Richard Arrandale.’
Sophia was presenting him to Lady Phyllida. He dragged his attention back, summoning up a careless smile as he reached for the lady’s hand. Her eyes widened, dilating as he grasped her fingers. What the devil? Richard concealed his surprise: he had not said or done anything to frighten her. She must know of his reputation, he thought as he kissed her hand and felt it tremble, but she replied calmly enough to him and stepped back to introduce her stepdaughter.
Surely the young widow could not have sole responsibility for this piece of perfection? But it appeared to be so, for even as he addressed Miss Tatham, Lady Phyllida was explaining as much to Sophia.
‘Ellen is going to live with me in Bath until the spring,’ she was saying in her soft, musical voice. ‘Then we go to London, to my sister, Lady Olivia Hapton, who is to bring Ellen out.’
‘And will you return to Bath afterwards, Lady Phyllida?’ asked Sophia.
‘Perhaps, I have not considered. I moved here so that I might have Ellen with me. I thought we could enjoy a little society while she continued her education through the winter.’
‘Philly—that is,’ Ellen corrected herself with a mischievous look, ‘Stepmama has kindly organised lessons for me in singing, dancing and Italian. Of course I learned all those things at school, but one can always improve.’
‘Indeed, it is never too late to improve oneself,’ agreed Sophia. Richard felt rather than saw the look she cast at him. ‘No doubt you will be attending the balls and concerts, too?’
‘Oh, yes, ma’am. That is all part of my education, ready for my come-out in London next year.’
* * *
‘A very pretty-behaved child,’ opined Sophia when Lady Phyllida led her stepdaughter away a short while later. ‘Pretty face, too.’
‘Exceptional,’ agreed Richard. ‘A veritable diamond.’
‘She has everything,’ continued Sophia slowly. ‘She is handsome, of good birth and has a considerable fortune, just like—’
She broke off as an elderly gentleman approached and Richard stood back, lost in thought as they conversed. He guessed what she had been about to say.
Just like Cassandra.
Sophia was clearly on good terms with the widow and inclined to approve of her stepdaughter. Thank heaven she did not know about the wager!
* * *
‘So you have stolen the march on us already with the heiress.’
A soft, drawling voice intruded upon Richard’s reverie and he turned to find Sir Charles Urmston at his shoulder.
‘Quite a piece of perfection, isn’t she?’ Urmston continued, raising his glass to study Miss Tatham, who was now on the far side of the room talking with the Wakefields. ‘I had thought Miss Julia Wakefield the most attractive girl in the room, but her prettiness is quite