Their progress was slow, for Lady Hune was well known in Bath and they encountered many of her acquaintances, all of whom wished to stop and enquire after her health. They were distantly polite to Richard, making it very clear that he was only tolerated because of his connection to the dowager marchioness. He expected nothing else, given his reputation. After all, he was an Arrandale: they lived hard, played hard and devil take the hindmost.
* * *
The Pump Room was busy and noisy, echoing with chattering voices.
‘I know now why I have not been here since I arrived in Bath,’ muttered Richard as he led his great-aunt through the crowd. ‘The great and the good—and the not so good—gather here to gossip about and pass judgement upon their acquaintances. By George how they stare!’
‘Most likely they are wondering who my handsome escort can be.’ Sophia chuckled.
‘Oh, I know most of ’em,’ he replied bitterly. ‘It is more likely they think no son of the shamed house of Arrandale should be allowed to sully these hallowed portals, especially one whose brother was branded a murderer.’
Sophia tapped his arm with her fan. ‘Enough of that nonsense, Richard. You forget that I, too, am an Arrandale.’
‘But you married your wealthy marquess, ma’am. That lifts you out of the mire surrounding the family’s name. Look at them all. They smile now, but when trouble descends they will not hesitate to tear one apart, like hounds scenting blood, as I know only too well.’
‘Not all of them. The Wakefields, for example, are charming people. I see Lady Wakefield is here today, would you like me to introduce you?’
‘No need, I am acquainted with the son and I agree, they set no store by my wicked reputation. But they are the exception. The rest live for gossip. You told me how they all gloated over Cassie’s elopement, how can you bear to be polite to them now?’
‘Easily,’ she replied. ‘We nod and smile and return each other’s greetings with equal insincerity. Hush now, Lady Catespin is approaching.’
‘My dear Lady Hune!’ A gushing matron bore down upon them, her generous proportions swathed in yellow sarcenet and a feathered bonnet perched on her improbably black curls. Richard was forcibly reminded of a galleon in full sail and was obliged to hide a grin as his great-aunt responded to the lady’s fulsome greeting.
‘And Mr Arrandale, too, what a pleasure to see you here, sir. I heard you were in Bath, but our paths have not crossed since we met in town—when was it—Lady Whitton’s rout, I believe?’
He bowed. ‘I believe you are right, ma’am.’
The matron turned back to Lady Hune, saying with blatant insincerity, ‘It must be such a comfort to you, ma’am, to have Mr Arrandale staying with you in Royal Crescent. The house must feel so empty with poor Lady Cassandra gone.’
Sophia’s claw-like fingers dug into Richard’s arm and he covered her hand with his own, giving it a little squeeze of support.
‘Yes, Lady Cassandra has married her beau,’ he said easily. ‘We received a letter from her only the other day, did we not, Aunt? She is ecstatically happy.’
Lady 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.