Regency Surrender: Infamous Reputations. Sarah Mallory

if the weather has been very inclement. And there is a labyrinth, too, but there was no time to go in and Mrs Desborough says we should buy a plan before we attempt it.’

      ‘Then we shall do so, when we visit.’ Phyllida smiled.

      ‘Perhaps I might escort you.’

      Phyllida acknowledged Richard’s offer with a slight inclination of her head but she did not encourage him. Unperturbed he returned his attention to Ellen.

      ‘I understand you are attending the ridotto on Monday, Miss Tatham. I hope you will stand up with me. If your stepmama allows it, of course.’

      ‘I should be delighted, sir—and you will consent, will you not, Philly?’

      Phyllida was tempted to refuse, but Ellen would be sure to demand the reason and she was not at all sure of the answer.

      ‘Of course,’ she said at last. ‘There can be no harm in you dancing with a gentleman.’ Would he notice the slight stress she put on the last word? ‘After all, the reason for bringing you to Bath was to accustom you to a larger society.’

      ‘And I have any number of acquaintances in Bath now,’ declared Ellen happily. ‘Not just Penelope Desborough and Julia Wakefield, who are my especial friends. Mrs Desborough was good enough to present several gentlemen to me today when we were in the gardens.’

      ‘Did she?’ murmured Phyllida, slightly startled by this revelation.

      Ellen threw her a mischievous glance. ‘I have no doubt some of them will be seeking you out soon, Philly, for they, too, mentioned the ridotto. However I made it very clear I could not dance with any of them unless they had your approval.’

      ‘I am glad to hear it.’

      ‘And you will approve them, will you not, dearest Stepmama?’

      For once Phyllida did not feel any inclination to laugh at Ellen’s sauciness. She was aware of Richard watching her and, disconcerted, she responded rather more tartly that she had intended.

      ‘Since I have approved Mr Arrandale, I doubt I will have any choice with the rest!’

      ‘But they are all very respectable, Philly, or Mrs Desborough would not have introduced them to me.’

      Ellen was gazing at her, puzzled, and Phyllida pulled herself together.

      ‘No, of course she would not. I am sure they are all pillars of Bath society.’

      A scratching at the door diverted her attention and she looked up as Matlock entered the room.

      ‘Signor Piangi has arrived, my lady. I have put him in the morning room.’

      ‘Oh, is it time for my Italian lesson already?’ cried Ellen. ‘I will come with you directly, Matty. If you will excuse me, Mr Arrandale.’

      He bowed.

      ‘Until Monday, Miss Tatham.’

      Phyllida watched Ellen skip out of the room. Matlock hovered by the door, as if unwilling to leave them alone, but Phyllida waved her away.

      ‘Go with her, Matty. You will remain in the morning room until the signor leaves.’ Richard was watching her and she added, as the door closed upon them, ‘It is important to me that no hint of impropriety should touch my stepdaughter while she is in Bath.’

      He inclined his head. She thought for a moment he would resume his seat but instead he picked up his hat and gloves from the table.

      ‘I have an appointment I must keep.’ He hesitated. ‘If you and Miss Tatham would like to visit Sydney Gardens on Sunday, I should be very happy to escort you there.’

      ‘Thank you, sir, but, no. We are, um, otherwise engaged.’

      It was not true, and she prayed he would not ask what that engagement might be.

      ‘Of course. Until Monday, then.’

      He bowed and was gone.

      Phyllida sank back into her chair, her spirits strangely depressed. She would like to believe that Richard Arrandale had merely come to pay his respects to her, that he had truly remembered dancing with her all those years ago, but she doubted it. After all, she had never been rich enough or pretty enough to attract much attention in her one and only Season. Who wanted a soft well-modulated voice when they could enjoy Miss Anston’s trilling laugh, or Miss Rollinson’s lively tones? The more direct of the mothers with daughters to wed had called her thin and unattractive.

      Phyllida gave herself a little shake. That was all in the past. She had lost her girlish ranginess, her glass told her that her willowy form and firm, full breasts showed to advantage in the high-waisted, low-cut gowns that were so fashionable. Yet, for all that, she paled to insignificance when compared to her lovely stepdaughter and she would be a fool to think otherwise.

      Richard Arrandale had clearly set his sights upon Ellen. She remembered how he had been watching her in the Pump Room. She might ask Lady Hune to warn him off, but although she was very fond of the indomitable marchioness she could not imagine that Sophia would have much influence over her rakish great-nephew.

      No. Phyllida knew it would be up to her to keep Ellen safe.

      * * *

      Richard strode away down Charles Street, well pleased with his first day’s work. The widow was cautious, which was as it should be, but Ellen was friendly enough. Very young, of course, but a taking little thing. He frowned when he recalled how she had spoken of the fellows in Sydney Gardens clamouring for an introduction. He had no doubt that some—if not all—of them were involved in the wager, but he had the advantage and he intended that it should stay that way. However, he knew better than to rush his fences. He would dance with the chit on Monday night. None of the others were likely to steal her heart before then.

      * * *

      By the time Phyllida went to bed that night she had made a decision. Jane was waiting to braid her hair and help her to undress, but as soon as she had donned her nightgown Phyllida threw on her silk wrap and went to Ellen’s room.

      ‘May I come in?’

      She peeped around the door. Ellen was already in her bed, propped up against a billowing mass of pillows, reading by the light of a branched candlestick that was burning perilously close to the bed-hangings. As the door opened she jumped and attempted to hide the book under the bedcovers, but when she saw it was Phyllida she heaved a sigh of relief.

      ‘Oh, it is you. I thought it was Matty.’

      ‘What are you reading? Is it so very bad?’

      Ellen nodded, her eyes shining.

      ‘Ambrosia, or the Monk,’ she announced with relish. ‘It is quite shocking. When I told Matty she promised to burn it if she found it.’

      ‘I am not at all surprised. How did you get a copy?

      ‘Oh, it has been circulating at school for months, but I did not have the opportunity to read it so I brought it with me. You need not worry, Philly, it is the later version, where Mr Lewis has removed the most salacious passages. Although I would dearly like to know what they were, because the story is still quite horrid in places!’

      ‘Then you should not be reading it.’

      Phyllida lunged for the book but Ellen was too quick and thrust it under her pillows, saying loftily, ‘You know Papa decreed that ignorance was the worst of all sins. He always said I could read whatever I wished, as long as I discussed with him or you anything I did not understand.’

      With a sigh Phyllida curled up on the end of the bed, unequal to the task of physically struggling with Ellen.

      ‘Unfortunately I have a lowering suspicion that there is much in Mr Lewis’s Gothic tale that I would not understand,’ she admitted. ‘I am wondering if I have done you a grave disservice in bringing you to Bath, Ellen.’

      ‘No,