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‘Perfectly, thank you. Anna, pull the blind down on your side. If we can depart as soon as possible, my lord, I would appreciate it. I have no wish to be seen, under the circumstances.’
‘Of course.’ He closed the carriage door and the vehicle jerked into motion.
Eleven words. I can hardly convict him of attempting to seduce me with his charm this morning, she thought as she huddled back against the seat and hoped that no one could see through the glass at the front of the chaise between her and the bobbing backs of the postillions. But then, all the thoughts about seduction are in your head, your fantasies. Probably.
Then a rider on a raking bay gelding passed the team and she found herself smiling. Why not have fantasies? The man looked magnificent on a horse and she was not made of stone. Fantasies were safe, much safer than yielding to impulses. In her daydreams passion was safe, romantic, pleasurable. Unreal.
‘This will make a nice change,’ she said to Anna. ‘It is a while since we’ve driven out to the country. I wonder what Lord Clere’s great-aunt is like.’
‘An old dragon, I expect,’ the maid said with a sniff. ‘At least, I hope she is. If she exists at all,’ she added.
‘Are you suggesting that Lord Clere invented her and that there will be no one to chaperon me?’ Phyllida demanded.
‘Could be.’ Anna pursed her lips. ‘Or perhaps that’s what you’re hoping for, Miss Phyllida. He’s the gent you were talking about in the park, isn’t he? Handsome as sin, that one.’
‘Nonsense. At least, anyone who isn’t as blind as a bat must agree Lord Clere is good-looking. But he is on the hunt for an eligible wife, so—’
‘It isn’t marriage I’m talking about, Miss Phyllida, and you know it. What’s his lordship going to say if you come home ruined?’
I am ruined. Phyllida bit her tongue more painfully than she had intended as the carriage bounced over a rut. ‘I’m not a green girl, Anna. If Lord Clere has any intentions towards me other than the friendship he professes, I am quite well aware that they would be dishonourable ones and I have no intention of ruining all my plans for the sake of a risky dalliance.’
‘I’m glad to hear it, Miss Phyllida.’ To Phyllida’s relief Anna settled back in her corner and turned her attention to the passing landscape, leaving her to he own, not very comfortable, musings.
What if Ashe did make a move, of any kind? Was she strong enough to resist the temptation? He was attractive, attractive enough to break through all her fears and qualms about a physical relationship, at least at first, she thought with a shiver. Kisses and caresses, so long as she remained in control, would be wonderful. But he was a full-bloodied man, passionate, strong. She had no hope of controlling him and then… Phyllida shuddered. She liked him as well, too much for her own peace of mind.
Her sensible self told her firmly that to become involved with Ashe Herriard risked all her plans, all her practical, prudent schemes for her future. But at the back of her mind a small, seductive voice murmured that if she was never going to marry she ought to experience what she was missing. That as an independent woman she had the right to make her own decisions about her life.
And what would the Millingtons say if there was a scandal? common sense demanded. And I’m probably quite wrong and Ashe has merely been flirting and has no interest in me at all, that way, she added firmly. I am perfectly safe and the only danger is my overactive imagination. Probably.
Lady Charlotte Herriard proved to be a Roman-nosed spinster of formidable assurance and considerable age who had no qualms about saying exactly what was passing through her mind at any moment. Ashe and Phyllida were shown into her drawing room amidst half a dozen lapdogs that skirmished about their ankles.
‘Lord Clere, Miss Hurst, my lady,’ the butler announced. ‘I will have the tea tray brought up immediately.’
‘Plenty of cake, mind, Sparrow.’ She set down the book she had been reading and crooked an imperious finger at Ashe. ‘So, you’re Nicholas’s son by his Indian wife, are you? You’ve got the air of your great-grandfather about you. Come here, Miss Hurst, and let me have a look at you. Who are you, eh?’
‘The sister of Lord Fransham, ma’am.’
‘Ah!’ She raised a lorgnette and studied Phyllida with all the arrogance of age and rank.
‘Those Hursts. Your father always was a fool, even as a child. So you’re a woman of business, are you? Causes a scandal, eh?’
‘No, ma’am. I am very discreet.’ Phyllida kept a bridle on her temper and thought about the significant fee she was going to earn.
‘You’ll need to be, because don’t think I’m going to drag myself over to the house just to act the chaperon all day long! I’ll come to play propriety, but you set out to be independent, my girl, and you’d better be able to look after yourself.’ She smiled thinly. ‘I certainly did.’
Phyllida was digesting that statement and wondering what Lady Charlotte had got up to in her youth as she was waved to a chair, apparently dismissed as a source of interest.
‘Clere, bring those side tables over for the tea and then sit here so I can look at you.’ Ashe did as he was bid and sat down opposite his great-aunt. ‘You going to behave yourself with this young lady or have I got to set a maid to keep an eye on her?’
‘I can assure you, Great Aunt, that I would do nothing that Miss Hurst would not wish.’ Phyllida knew him well enough by now to tell he was amused by the old dragon, but not well enough to tell whether that was a double-edged reply or not.
Lady Charlotte seemed to have no doubts. She raised one thin grey brow. ‘Oh, yes, you do indeed remind me of my father.’
‘Not his son, my grandfather?’ Ashe asked, apparently at ease under the scrutiny.
The tea tray was brought in before Lady Charlotte could answer him. ‘Be so good as to pour, Miss Hurst. And eat some cake and then I can do so and keep you company. My doctor forbids it, old fool.’ She fixed her gaze on Ashe again. ‘No, you do not have the look of your grandsire, for which you may be thankful. Every family mints a bad penny now and again and he was certainly one. Go and have a look at the Long Gallery and the family portraits and you’ll see.’
Ashe rode on from the Dower House after an agonising hour of interrogation, leaving Phyllida’s chaise and his aunt’s travelling chariot to follow him. He told himself that the faint feeling of nausea in the pit of his stomach was partly the acerbic questioning of Lady Charlotte and part the consumption of an unwise quantity of excellent lemon cake. It was nothing to do with apprehension over what was waiting for him at the end of the carriage drive as it wound through the shrubberies to t
