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 place as he met her gaze. He had thought yesterday her eyes were grey but he saw now that they were flecked with green and her look was surprisingly direct. He had a sudden urge to tell the truth and confess that he didn’t remember her at all. Impossible, of course. He must hold his nerve.
She invited him to sit down.
‘How are you enjoying Bath?’ he asked her as he lowered himself into a chair opposite her own.
‘Very much. After the isolation of Tatham Park, Bath seems very busy.’
‘And will you put your name down in the book when the subscription opens later this month? That is necessary, I believe, if you wish to attend balls in the Upper Rooms?’
‘I shall indeed.’
‘But there is still dancing to be had, even now,’ he persisted. ‘There is a ridotto on Monday night, did you know of it?’
‘Yes, I am taking Ellen.’
‘Then we will be able to dance together again.’
The tell-tale rosiness deepened on her cheek.
‘I am going as Ellen’s chaperon, Mr Arrandale. I shall not dance.’
There was a wistful note in her voice. Faint, but he detected it.
‘Is it in the rules that widows are prohibited from dancing? I have never heard of it.’
Now why the devil had he said that? It was not the widow he wanted to dance with.
* * *
Phyllida’s nerves fluttered. Had she been mistaken? Had he really remembered standing up with her at Almack’s? She stole another look at him. He was being perfectly charming. Perhaps the lines that creased his lean cheeks might be caused by laughter rather than dissipation and wild living, despite the gossip. She did not think they detracted from his charm, either. If anything she thought him more attractive than ever, especially when he smiled at one in just that way...
She started guiltily when the door opened and Ellen came in, chattering even as she untied the ribbons of her bonnet.
‘There you are, Philly! Such fun we have had, I wish you had been there to share—oh, I beg your pardon. Hirst did not tell me you had company, but then, I did not give him time!’ She came forward, greeting their guest with her sunny smile and no hint of shyness. ‘Mr Arrandale, good day to you.’
He had jumped up when Ellen appeared and Phyllida watched him greet her, his charming smile and nicely judged bow perfectly civil. Too perfect, she thought, her earlier suspicions rising again.
‘How do you do, Miss Tatham. Have you been shopping, perhaps?’
‘No, sir, I have been to Sydney Gardens with Miss Desborough and her mama. Do you know the Desboroughs, Mr Arrandale?’
‘I’m afraid not, I have not been in Bath that long myself.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, we were introduced yesterday and Penelope and I found ourselves in such accord that Mrs Desborough invited me to join them in a walk to Sydney Gardens today. Oh, I wish you