To all those who have helped me along the way.
Contents
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Chapter Twenty-One
22. Chapter Twenty-Two
23. Chapter Twenty-Three
24. Chapter Twenty-Four
25. Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
26. Did You Enjoy “A Well-Trained Lady”?
Also by Jess Heileman
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
“Cursed driver,” Mother hissed, following the abrupt shift of the carriage. “Surely London streets are maintained well enough to avoid such unnecessary jostling.” When neither Papa nor I responded, she gave a disgruntled huff. “I hope the traveling coach is not so poorly sprung for our trip.”
Papa’s regard remained set on the veiled darkness of Mayfair passing by. “I have already spoken to Mr. West about seeing to its maintenance. He assured me it shall be ready by Friday’s departure.”
My gaze shot to Papa’s shadowed features. “Friday? But Parliament will not be adjourned for another month yet. I thought we were to remain in London with you until our removal to Branbury Court for the Thortons’ house party.”
“That had been the plan, but—”
“Considering Lord Thorton is no longer in London,” Mother interrupted, “I do not see a purpose in lingering. I have accepted your aunt’s invitation to Sandson Hall.”
A lump formed in my throat at the memory of my last visit to Sandson and the continuous censure I’d been forced to endure at Aunt Priscilla’s hand. I’d readily deemed Mother pleasant in comparison to her venomous sister, and Mother was a more toxic serpent than most. “Is Papa not to join us then?”
“Of course not.” Mother sent a pointed glare to Papa. “Though it would be easy to make a list of Lords that don’t allow their seat in the House to dictate half their year’s plans.”
“As though you’d wish me along?” When Mother didn’t counter his statement, Papa gave a wry chuckle. “And your list would only serve to condemn the men that shun their responsibility. Selfish, ignorant—”
“Your father will remain behind.” The firmness of Mother’s voice ended Papa’s rant. “But I require a respite from the stench of London.”
I withheld a groan. “And how long shall our stay at Sandson be?”
Mother did not speak for a moment, allowing me to stew in my worry. “Not quite a fortnight. Unfortunately, Priscilla has other plans that prevent us staying longer, so we must return to London for another week before our departure to Branbury Court.”
Despite the promise of our eventual return to London, any amount of time spent with Mother and Aunt Priscilla for company seemed entirely too insufferable. Surely, I was old enough to remain behind with Papa. “Must I join you?” The question slipped from me, and I instantly wished it back.
Even in the darkness, I could sense the full strength of Mother’s glower, and I shrunk under its intensity. “Of course you must, foolish child. You have procured no invitations elsewhere, and I will not allow you to remain behind without a suitable chaperone.” She paused. “Besides, we cannot risk you encouraging any more suitors before Lord Thorton offers for you. The last thing we need is to have him return from France to encounter more tales of your meandering heart.”
Indignation coursed through me, but I masked it with arrogance, an emotion Mother did not consider weak. “It is not my fault that gentlemen so eagerly arrive at the incorrect opinion of where a lady’s affections lay.”
“And yet how many other ladies have as sizable a collection of rejected suitors as you have managed in the past three Seasons?”
Unwilling to speak on it further, I lowered my gaze to my lap.
“Come now.” Papa interrupted the heavy silence that had engulfed the small cab. “Only a handful of those lads you forced at her were even tolerable enough to be considered. And Lord Thorton seems superior to them all. Should we not then rejoice that Arabella has proved herself indifferent to men’s feelings?” I winced inwardly as he continued, regardless of his noble intentions. “To think, if she had accepted the first suitor who came along, we would be attending the Brimhall’s ball tonight in the agonizing company of Lord Penthrop.”
Mother lifted her chin at Papa’s assertion. “Considering that Arabella is likely one rejection away from forever sealing her pretentious reputation, and marring ours along with it, I would say Lord Penthrop is certainly preferable to no husband at all.”
“You cannot be in earnest?” Disbelief saturated Papa’s tone. “Even a title cannot overcome the fact that the man is a spineless cross-bencher.”
“Always politics with you. And yet being your wife, it has become obvious that one’s political abilities have little to do with the true value of a man.”
My lips parted at Mother’s slight, but Papa simply turned his attention from her, his posture slumped from weariness. Poor Papa.
“Close your mouth, Arabella,” Mother said. I was hardly surprised she could see my mistakes, even in the dark. “You will never procure an earl’s affections by such untoward displays.”
The carriage jostled again, and I righted myself and my untoward expression as Mother hissed another remark regarding inept drivers and Papa’s lack of oversight of such matters. I released a muted exhale, gladly turning my attention out the window to the shadowed streets until we arrived at Lord and Lady Brimhall’s Town house.
Papa assisted us both from the carriage, then offered Mother his arm. The two of them started up the stairs as though all was perfectly well between them. The very image of marital contentment. And it was all a lie. But over the years I had discovered that all marriages adhered to the same pretense. Even the supposed love matches within the ton, the ones that were so often touted as an ideal, were nothing but a farce in the end. I would admit those individuals who claimed love as their marital badge of honor were better performers than most, but upon closer examination the truth was there—love always faded.
And though I had once been as naïve as other young ladies, thinking I would one day marry for love, it was no longer the case with me. I wanted a marriage of convenience. A marriage where I would not need to fret about my love for someone fading, nor feel the agony as I witnessed the unavoidable disenchantment take hold of my husband through the years. I was not strong enough to bear the loss of love. Not again.
I followed my parents through the doorway and into sight of our awaiting host and hostess.
“Lord and Lady Godwin,” Lady Brimhall said, nodding her welcome, “I am so glad you could make it.” She looked to me. “And you, Miss Godwin.”
I dipped into an elegant curtsy and rose, receiving approving nods from both Lord and Lady Brimhall. “Thank you.”
“It is such a lovely night for a ball.” Mother looked to Papa, who offered a nod of agreement. “It is not nearly as warm as it has been the past few evenings.”
Lady Brimhall now looked to her husband. “We are quite for
tunate. Are we not, dear?”
I was hardly surprised to find Lord Brimhall’s eyes were still upon me, only removing them when a jab of his wife’s elbow reminded him of his insolence. “Yes. That is … I do believe …” He paused, tilting his head to the side as though he wasn’t certain what he was supposed to be agreeing to.
Lady Brimhall gave a taut smile at her husband’s idiocy, while the three of us pretended not to have noticed his error.
“Oh, see there. It is Sir Tillard and his daughter.” Lady Brimhall seemed a touch too eager in her declaration, and Mother and Papa offered a brief nod before continuing on.
Moving through the crush, countless gazes followed us, and the crowd parted as we neared. There were many gentlemen I recognized, but I skimmed over their eager expressions so as not to be pressed upon for a dance or to engage in unwanted flirtations. After three Seasons, it had become a hardship feigning interest in those with whom I had little desire to interact.
“Miss Godwin!” I turned toward the distinct voice of Lady Beatrice. She gestured with her fan for me to join her. Her incessant gesture meant she would have gossip to share.
“Go on.” Mother peered over her shoulder at me before directing an overdone smile to Lady Beatrice. As the eldest daughter of a higher peer, Lady Beatrice had easily obtained Mother’s approval, a circumstance for which I was most grateful.
Lady Beatrice looked pretty in her ivory silk, though not even a stunning dress and fine jewels could compensate for the angular nose she had inherited from her father.
“Where is Miss Browning?” I glanced around for her ever-present companion.
“Marianne is just finishing the set.” Lady Beatrice leaned closer, and her voice grew to a whisper. “And I daresay she was quite pleased when a certain gentleman asked her to partner with him for the quadrille.”
“Indeed?” I pretended interest, counting the requisite number of seconds Mother had taught me to allow until I could change the subject to something more pressing. “And have you decided if you will accept Lady Thorton’s invitation for the house party at Branbury Court?”
Lady Beatrice whipped her fan open to conceal her features from me. “I have not yet made a decision.”
I forced a smile, confounded by Lady Beatrice’s unwillingness to speak of any invitation without giving airs to her importance. And yet, in part, I envied her. As the daughter of a duke, Lady Beatrice’s delight came not in the invitation itself, for those were expected, but in the amusement of choosing which of them to accept. “Do you have another engagement you are considering?”
Her eyes skirted about the room, as though making certain I was still the most promising person to be speaking with. “The Meads have invited me, and therefore Marianne, to Hampshire at the start of next week. I have already accepted and do not yet know how long our obligation there will be.”
“The Meads?” I concealed my surprise. “How unexpected.”
“Most unexpected. But when you have an unmarried son set to inherit such a fortune, an advantageous match must be sought out.”
I gave a nod of agreement, concealing my irritation. “Certainly. I only wonder what Miss Gilbert will think of the invitation. I do believe she was hoping to be the one receiving it.”
“Receiving what?” Miss Browning stepped directly between Lady Beatrice and me in a most irksome manner.
I removed myself to a more suitable distance with practiced ease. “We were speaking of poor Miss Gilbert, likely beside herself having not received the Meads’ invitation to Hampshire.”
Miss Browning tipped her head to the side. “It is the fate of those of us with little more to offer than our exquisite looks and our incomparable charms.” She gave a small giggle, and I knew she meant to lighten the reality of her situation. It was dreadfully unfortunate that, despite Miss Browning being fairer and a touch more amiable, her father had no title to lure gentlemen to his daughters as Lady Beatrice’s father had.
“Do not fret. I shall find a grand match soon enough.” Miss Browning reached out and rested her hand upon mine as though I required consoling. “And consider yourself blessed that your own father is a wealthy viscount, for there are few gentlemen who would not desire such an agreeable suit.”
I acknowledged her improper comment with a tight nod.
Lady Beatrice flicked her fan with her wrist, pushing a bout of warm air toward me. “And when is Lord Thorton set to return from France, Miss Godwin?”
“I believe just before his house party at Branbury begins.”
She shook her head. “I still think it odd that he should depart midway through the Season, and for a trip to the Continent, no less. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was trying to escape something.”
I veiled my irritation. “And yet the truth is quite the opposite. His mother has assured me it was a last hurrah before settling down.”
Miss Browning giggled. “Oh, what a match you shall be. He is the most handsome of men. And to be the wife of an earl.” She released a dreamy sigh. “You are so fortunate.”
“We are not engaged yet, Miss Browning.” Yet even I knew it was only a matter of time before he would offer for me, and pride filled me. Lord Thorton was an ideal choice. His offer, unlike the others I had received, was one I actually wished to obtain. Not only was he a sought-after earl, but he was handsome and confident. He seemed wise enough to have not lost his fortune in gambling nor poor investments as others had done, and his estate was said to be one of the finest in England. But most importantly, when he looked at me, his eyes were not clouded with emotion and desire. He looked at me as few men did—a woman who met his list of qualities needed in a wife and nothing more. Yes, I was fortunate indeed.
“Bella?”
My eyes fell on the young lady who approached me, a wide, excited grin spreading across her plain features. I scanned her unembellished, muslin gown and unadorned, brown hair. The curls heaped on each side of her head accentuated her heart-shaped face to an unflattering fault.
“I am Arabella,” I said curtly. Lady Beatrice and Miss Browning ducked behind their fans, muted whispers adding to my impatience. “But to those with whom I’m not well acquainted, I am addressed as Miss Godwin.”
The girl’s face turned scarlet, and her smile faded. “Forgive me. I assumed you would recognize me.”
I tried to place her unremarkable face. She hardly appeared old enough to be attending a ball, yet something about her did seem oddly familiar. “I’m sorry, but I have no recollection of you.” I glanced toward Miss Browning who had peeked over her fan. She looked as though she were about to start another fit of giggles when she lifted the fan again. How I wished this homely child would seek companionship elsewhere. How had she even managed to obtain an invitation?
“It’s me.” The young woman’s large, brown eyes implored me to remember her. “Ruth.”
My legs threatened to give out beneath me. “Ruth Seton?”
She nodded, and her exuberant smile once again brightened her face.
“Forgive me for not knowing you directly, but it has been ages since I’ve seen you.” I reached out, clasping her hands in mine, searching for a likeness of the girl I once knew. “How much you have grown.”
“And you look precisely as I pictured you, though your hair is a touch more golden than I would have thought.” She leaned in closer. “But your eyes are the same dark blue.” She sighed, taking in the rest of me. “You must be the most beautiful lady in all of London!”
My amused laugh did not drown out the huffs from behind me. “You were always one for exaggeration.” I released her hands and glanced behind me at the affronted expressions of our onlookers. “Lady Beatrice, Miss Browning, may I introduce you to Miss Seton?”
They lowered their fans further and nodded in unison, Ruth waving her hand in a gauche manner.
“She was our neighbor at Fellerton when I was young,” I said, feeling a sudden need to clarify our connection.
“Well then,”
Lady Beatrice said, taking hold of Miss Browning’s arm, “we have no desire to prevent the two of you from becoming reacquainted.”
Uncertain if I felt relief or aggravation at their prompt departure, I inclined my head in farewell, all too aware of the giggles trailing behind them as they left us.
“Is it not wonderful that we have crossed paths after all these years?” Ruth’s smile widened. “I only wish Augustus were here.” I stiffened at hearing his name, but she did not seem to take notice of it. And why would she? She did not know the agony he’d caused me. “I’m certain he shall scarcely believe me when I tell him I happened upon you this evening.”
“Your cousin is not here, then?”
“No. He abhors balls and would not be persuaded otherwise.”
The tension in my body eased at knowing I would not be forced to pretend polite ignorance at seeing him again. “That does not surprise me in the least. Too constricting for him, I daresay.”
Ruth laughed. “How well you know him.”
Knew him. “But I do hope he is well?” I asked, out of obligation.
“Oh, very well. He has taken over the role of patriarch most admirably since my uncle’s death.”
I reached out and touched her hand. “Oh, Ruth. I’m so sorry to hear of your loss.”
Her smile lessened. “It was most unexpected, but we are managing.”
I tipped my head to the side. “That must have been hard on all of you. I know how fond of him you were, as were your cousins.”
She nodded, her eyes glistening in the candlelight.
I glanced around, having no desire to bring her to tears at the Brimhall’s ball. “And has Augustus settled down, then?” I asked it with a tone of indifference, as though the answer would not affect me, for it most certainly should not.
A Well-Trained Lady (Seasons of Change Book 4) Page 1