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

‘I suppose we must.’

His look was searching as they turned about and Phyllida realised she had sounded quite regretful. Heavens, she hoped he did not misunderstand her and think she wanted to keep him by her side. She rushed into an explanation.

‘It is a long time since Sultan has raced against another horse. When Sir Evelyn died the family thought it would be best to sell all the horses except Sultan and Ellen’s mare.’

‘Surely that was your decision?’

‘Yes. Yes, of course.’

And it had been her decision, but she could acknowledge now the pressure that had been brought to bear, while she was still coming to terms with her loss. It was not just from Sir Evelyn’s family, but her own, too. She had been brought up to believe that a man must be head of the family and his word was law, that she should always bow to his will, but marriage had changed her. She had enjoyed being mistress of her own house and had grown more confident under Sir Evelyn’s benevolent protection. He had encouraged her to think for herself.

Her parents had died by the time Phyllida became a widow, but her family had descended upon her, discussing with Sir Evelyn’s relatives what would be best for her and it had taken all her newfound strength to stand out against them. Thank goodness she had not allowed them to persuade her to give up Sultan, or to sell Tatham Park.

* * *

Richard was silent, watching the play of emotion on Lady Phyllida’s countenance. The excited glow died from her eyes and her cheeks lost their hectic flush. He thought there was a shadow of sadness about her. She was thinking back to her dead husband, perhaps. Did she miss him? Had she loved him?

Richard shifted in the saddle, uncomfortable with the thought. A sudden and unfamiliar feeling swept through him. He wanted to protect her, to keep her safe. To make her happy.

* * *

The others were waiting for them at the copse, keeping their horses in the shade of the trees. As Phyllida and Richard approached Ellen called out, ‘Philly, are you all right? When I saw you racing on I wanted to follow but Mr Fullingham thought we should wait here, since this is where we agreed to stop.’

‘We were afraid Sultan had bolted with you,’ added Mr Fullingham.

‘No such thing,’ said Richard. ‘We were enjoying the race and decided to go on.’ He glanced at Phyllida. ‘It was my fault, and I beg your pardon.’

‘I knew you were in no danger, Philly,’ said Ellen comfortably. ‘You were always a clipping rider, I had forgotten just how good you are!’

Phyllida chuckled and shook her head. ‘It was most irresponsible of me, but I cannot deny that I enjoyed it.’

Ellen looked back towards the road. ‘I think we should be getting back to the others. I am not sure how much they will have seen...’

‘Not the race to the barn,’ said Richard. ‘That would have been screened by the copse.’

Ellen giggled. ‘Then we shall not tell them how reprehensibly you both behaved.’

‘Thank you,’ said Phyllida meekly.

‘And it has done you good, Philly,’ Ellen continued. ‘I have never seen you looking better.’

Richard grinned. He had to agree, Lady Phyllida was looking radiant. She had surprised him and he thought that perhaps she was not such a mouse after all. He fell in with the others, but as he did so he caught Henry Fullingham’s eye and the fellow winked at him. Richard’s jaw tightened and he cursed inwardly. By allowing himself to gallop off with the widow he had left the field free for Fullingham to advance his cause with Ellen Tatham. And if that smug expression was anything to go by, he had taken full advantage of it.

* * *

Richard hoped for an opportunity to draw Ellen away as they continued towards Farleigh but she fell in beside her stepmother. Phyllida’s unexpected escapade had clearly impressed her and the two ladies rode together, laughing and chattering. Watching them, and listening to them reminisce about past rides and excursions, Richard was again struck by Phyllida’s youthfulness. She could only have been about Ellen’s age when Sir Evelyn had married her. She and Ellen were obviously good friends and he wondered if that had been a comfort to the young bride in the early days of her marriage.

* * *

The question was still in his head when he finally managed to ride beside Ellen, and instead of taking the opportunity to engage her in a gentle flirtation he remarked that she appeared to be on very good terms with her stepmother.

‘Yes. Philly has always been much more like an older sister than a mama to me.’

She turned her head and regarded him for a moment with unwonted seriousness. ‘I would do nothing to hurt her, Mr Arrandale.’

‘I am sure you would not.’ He added, surprising himself, ‘I hope that will always be the case, because it might well prevent you from getting into any serious scrapes.’

She thought about this for a moment.

‘Sometimes I think I am much more worldly-wise than Philly. In fact, I have decided to promote her happiness.’

His lips twitched. ‘And how do you propose to do that, Miss Tatham?’

The solemn look fled and she shook her head, eyes gleaming with mischief.

‘I shall not tell you. It is always best to play one’s cards close to one’s chest, is it not?’

He frowned. ‘Now where did you learn that expression?’

‘From my teacher, Mrs Ackroyd. She explained to us about games of chance. Cards, and dice and the like.’

‘Ah, I did not think you would have heard Lady Phyllida say such a thing.’

‘Goodness, no. Sometimes I think Philly needs me to look after her, not the other way round.’

Before he could respond, a call from Lord Wakefield informed them that they had reached Farleigh and the party reorganised itself to ride up the drive to the house. They were met at the door by the housekeeper, who confirmed that the family were not at home but that refreshments were waiting for them, if they would care to step inside for a little while before they inspected what was left of the castle and the chapel.

Phyllida moved closer to Ellen. She had observed her talking to Richard during the ride, seen the looks, brimful with laughter, that Ellen had thrown at him and she had been conscious of a strong feeling of desolation. It had formed itself into a hard, unhappy knot deep inside. Phyllida wanted to snatch Ellen away but that would do no good at all. She was Ellen’s chaperon, not her gaoler, and would never prevent her merely talking to a gentleman. So she entered the house beside Lady Wakefield and left the younger ones to chatter together while they enjoyed the cold collation that had been set out for their delectation.

* * *

Afterwards, when they went off to look at the ruins of the castle, she made no attempt to keep Ellen at her side, but watched her scamper off with the other girls. Adrian, Mr Fullingham and Richard Arrandale accompanied the group to help them over the uneven ground while Phyllida followed a short distance behind with Lord Wakefield and his lady.

‘Oh, dear,’ murmured Lady Wakefield when the breeze brought snatches of the young people’s conversation floating back to them, ‘Adrian is recounting the castle’s gruesome history. Should we tell him to stop? I would not wish him to give the girls nightmares.’

‘Do not silence him on Ellen’s account,’ replied Phyllida, thinking of the copy of The Monk currently secreted in her stepdaughter’s bedchamber, ‘She will enjoy the horrid stories immensely.’

‘As will Julia and Penelope,’ added Lord Wakefield, with a complacent chuckle. ‘Do not worry, ladies, the children will not come to any harm here.’

Phyllida wondered if that were true, but she soon saw that the young ladies were much more interested in clambering over the ruins and listening to Adrian Wakefield’s blood-curdling tales than in dalliance with any of the gentlemen.

* * *

There was little to see of the castle except the gatehouse and what remained of the thick walls. The rest was merely piles of rubble, much of it overgrown, but this did not prevent the younger members of the party from scrambling around like excited children.

‘Which is what they are,’ remarked Lady Wakefield, watching them with smiling indulgence. ‘The girls are barely out of the schoolroom and Adrian is only a couple of years their senior. I wish I had their energy! The ride and then the refreshments have left me feeling quite languid, so Wakefield and I are going to find a convenient stone block to sit upon, Lady Phyllida, if you would like to stay with us?’

Phyllida declined gracefully. She was not at all fatigued by the ride and glad to have some time to herself. She wandered off, enjoying the solitude. She loved Ellen dearly, but having responsibility for such a pretty girl, and an heiress at that, was proving more arduous than she had thought. Having spent the past year living on her own at Tatham Park she had thought having Ellen to live with her would provide her with the companionship she had lacked since Sir Evelyn’s death, and it did, but Phyllida knew now that it was not enough. Ellen was not a kindred spirit, they could not converse upon equal terms, because Phyllida could never forget that Ellen was her responsibility.