A Well-Trained Lady (Seasons of Change Book 4)

by Jess Heileman

My throat went dry, hoping Ruth or Mrs. Brundage had the foresight to offer a more permissible excuse to the visitors. “And what reason did you give the Whitmores regarding our absence?”

  Ruth shrugged. “Only that we could not find the two of you, and that you had likely ventured off together as you used to do.”

  I nearly choked on the air I attempted to draw in, glancing over my shoulder at Augustus who appeared entirely unruffled.

  Ruth continued forward, obviously unaware of my dismay. “We told them we weren’t certain when you would return, but they would not be put off with how anxious they are to meet you, Bella.” Ruth looked back at Augustus. “And, of course, Candace is most eager to speak with you.”

  I kept my gaze forward, unwilling to glimpse Augustus’s reaction to Ruth’s declaration regarding Miss Whitmore. “Well, as thrilled as I am to finally meet them, may I freshen up a bit first? I fear in my current state I may be somewhat of a disappointment.”

  Ruth appraised me. “But you look lovely, Bella.” She tightened her grip, as though she had no intention of releasing me. “The Whitmores shall adore you exactly as you are.”

  I doubted that, but as the voices drifted toward us from the open drawing room doors, I realized there was no hope of excusing myself without being noticed. I swallowed down my apprehension and lifted my chin.

  “Here we are,” Ruth said, entering the room with me on her arm. The chatter ceased and not two, but three visitors—a gentleman included—stood in unison with Mrs. Brundage and Sarah. I didn’t allow my consideration to linger on the guests, but smiled at Mrs. Brundage who hurried toward us.

  “Do forgive us for our tardiness,” I said, reaching out a hand toward her. “Had we known there was to be company, we would have postponed taking a turn out of doors until later.”

  Mrs. Brundage took my hand in hers. “It is no matter, dear. We had plenty to discuss in your absence, but now that you have come, let us not postpone the introductions a moment longer.” She did not release my hand, and neither did Ruth relinquish my arm, as she led me forward. The nearness of both women was both unnerving and yet somehow comforting.

  “Miss Godwin,” Mrs. Brundage stopped in front of an elegant woman with dark hair and matching dark eyes, “this is our neighbor and dearest friend, Mrs. Whitmore.”

  Mrs. Brundage released my hand, and I offered a small curtsy. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  The woman gave a tight grin and nod in return, her eyes indiscreetly moving up my figure as she lifted her gaze again. “Yes. We have heard so very much about you these past years, both from the Brundages as well as in London.”

  I straightened my posture at her insinuation, refusing to let her words affect me. It would take more than a subtly placed insult regarding mere rumors to cause me distress. In truth, I had become quite the expert at dealing with vindictive mothers, a necessary protocol I had developed with much success. Afterall, I did not lack practice. “How kind you are to say such a thing, Mrs. Whitmore,” I said, in a saccharine voice. “And I have heard only the best about you also.”

  Her fingers stiffened then closed into fists at her sides, but she offered a tight-lipped smile.

  “And this is Candace,” Ruth said excitedly, neglecting my instructions on the proper handling of introductions. “I am certain you two shall be the dearest of friends.”

  I finally allowed myself a look at Miss Whitmore, not the least bit surprised to find a vexingly handsome lady with dark features that contrasted her almond-shaped, green eyes. Ruth had mentioned we were nearly the same age, but I couldn’t help but think how innocent she looked. Had she truly made it through two Seasons without scathing such a countenance? “Miss Whitmore,” I said most intentionally, giving a nod. “I hope we shall be fast friends.”

  She smiled, though there was a touch of hesitancy in it. “Of course we shall.”

  Eager to move on, I looked to the gentleman, surprised to find a somewhat familiar face staring back at me. It wasn’t that he was particularly handsome or entirely memorable, but the way his large ears reddened under my attention could not be forgotten. “Mr. Treynor?” I asked, confident I had recalled his name correctly.

  He gave a swift bow. “I was not certain you would remember me.”

  “Of course I would. We met at a soiree held by my aunt not a month previous. Your mother”—I paused, trying to recall the connection correctly—“is married to my uncle’s youngest brother, correct?”

  “Impressive, Miss Godwin. And I, of course, remember you. Obviously … as I already said that.” He fidgeted, and I wondered what it was about a beautiful woman that made most men act so inept. “You look lovely … as you did when we met. But you likely know that.” His eyes widened. “Not that I think you vain, simply aware of your natural qualities.”

  I had watched him flounder about long enough. “And what brings you to Dorset?”

  He swallowed, his ears turning nearly scarlet. “I have simply come for a visit, as you have, it would seem. Mrs. Whitmore is my aunt—my mother’s sister.”

  “How splendid,” I said, with not a hint of the wryness I felt. “And even more so that our visits should coincide.”

  The color that had congregated in his ears now spread into his face, and he tugged at his cravat. “It is most delightful, if you don’t presume me too bold for agreeing.” He gestured me to the chair near where he had been sitting. “Would you care to sit a while?”

  Knowing I could not refuse him, I released Ruth’s arm and took a seat. At least there had been no room on the settee next to him, though Sarah’s position in the corner, with a book in hand, looked most ideal. “And what are the latest reports of Town, Mr. Treynor? I know I have been gone less than a week, but much can happen in that time.”

  He took a seat, as did Mrs. Brundage and Mrs. Whitmore, before nodding his understanding. “Where shall I begin?”

  I gave a small lift of one shoulder. “Wherever you see fit.”

  He began with Almack’s last ball of the Season, but even with the lure of an apparent scandal, my attention drifted to Miss Whitmore approaching Augustus on the far side of the room. He greeted her with the smile I had grown accustomed to receiving since my arrival. She leaned in close, spoke, and gazed up at him expectantly. He nodded and leaned back toward her, the low hum of his voice reaching me as she lifted her hand to rest on his arm, her attentive eyes not deviating from him. I steadied my breaths and shifted my regard to Mr. Treynor, struggling to keep my irritation imperceptible.

  Why had Augustus not told me of his obvious attachment to Miss Whitmore? Though I was not so foolish as to be swayed by his constant flirtations, it was inexcusable to treat any lady with such untoward behavior when your affections were bound elsewhere.

  “How mortifying for her,” Ruth said, and I realized she still stood next to my chair. “It makes me glad I have never been to Almack’s. Just hearing of the patronesses makes my skin prickle. I don’t know what I’d do if I fell under their condemnation.”

  Mr. Treynor returned his regard to me expectantly.

  Grateful Ruth had given me an appropriate direction for my response, I gave a nod. “That is most shocking. In all honesty, I’m relieved to have missed the entire incident.” I paused, certain I could not focus on any more news of London. “And how long shall you be staying, Mr. Treynor?”

  “I believe we are set to depart soon, but my aunt has accepted Mrs. Brundage’s invitation to return to dine this evening.”

  “How wonderful,” I said, disappointed at the news I had not requested. “Though I refer to your stay with the Whitmores. Will you be here long?”

  “Oh.” At realizing his error, his face reddened. “I shall only be at Safford a week, I’m afraid.”

  I tipped my head to the side, acting disappointed. “Well, we will have to make the most of your time here, shan’t we?”

  He straightened in his seat. “I look forward to it.”

  Mrs. Brundage rose from her pl
ace near the hearth. “Would anyone care for more tea?”

  “I would not be opposed,” Mr. Treynor called after her. “Nor would I refuse another cake or two.”

  “Let me help.” Ruth stood to assist her aunt.

  My gaze involuntarily slid back to Augustus and Miss Whitmore, both still oblivious to the happenings of the rest of us. How discourteous some people were.

  “Do forgive their desire for privacy, Miss Godwin.” The false sweetness in Mrs. Whitmore’s voice drew my attention. “They were apart for months before Augustus came to visit us in Town.”

  My chest tightened, and I again looked to where they stood.

  “You know how young love can be—a few days’ separation is entirely insufferable.”

  I forced my focus back to Mrs. Whitmore, now fully aware why I had received such an unwelcoming introduction. She thought I meant to steal Augustus from her daughter. What a ridiculous notion. An indirect assurance that I would not interfere with her plans was all that was required for her to begin seeing me as an ally, not a threat. But I could not convince my tongue of my reasonings. “I am all too aware of the effects separation can have on young love.” I blurted the words before I could think better of it, not only undermining my plan to make myself agreeable to Mrs. Whitmore but asserting myself as a formidable threat to her daughter.

  Her posture went rigid, and her eyes became shadowed slits.

  “Mr. Treynor,” I said, focusing again on Mrs. Whitmore’s seemingly unaware nephew, “remind me where your family’s estate is.”

  I suffered nearly a quarter of an hour fretting about my brazen comment to Mrs. Whitmore while Mr. Treynor highlighted the appeals of Cornwall.

  “Miss Godwin,” Miss Whitmore said, ambling up with Augustus just behind her, “if you would not find it too much of an imposition, would you take a turn around the room with me? I do desire to know you better.”

  I did not look at Augustus but set my teacup and saucer on the side table. “Of course.” I stood and looked to Mr. Treynor. “If you will excuse me.”

  He gave a nod as Miss Whitmore took hold of my arm in an all too familiar manner.

  “Do you care to join us, Ruth?” I asked, hoping she’d be inclined to offer me her aid.

  “No.” Ruth moved into the chair I had just occupied. “I will allow you a moment to become better acquainted without my endless chattering.”

  Wondering if discernment could be taught, I allowed Miss Whitmore to lead me forward.

  When we had moved a little way off, Miss Whitmore released a tight exhale. “And how are you enjoying your stay at Fairhaven, Miss Godwin?”

  My gaze was fixed ahead of us. “It has been most pleasant up to this point.” Though her eyes moved to my profile, I did not betray myself by showing more.

  “Well, I am certain Ruth is exceptionally pleased to have you here. She has always spoken so highly of you.”

  I did not overlook Miss Whitmore’s unwillingness to mention Augustus and how he felt regarding my visit. “We are both most grateful for the chance to be reacquainted.”

  She nodded, but I could sense her hesitancy. I thought to be civil and offer conversation, but I knew that would only postpone the discussion she wished to have. After a few more moments of silence between us, she sighed. “In truth, Miss Godwin, I was astonished that you came to Fairhaven at all.”

  I glanced at her. “And why is that?”

  She readjusted her arm on mine, lessening her hold. “Well, for one thing, there are rumors of an understanding between you and Lord Thorton.”

  “Rumors are not often to be trusted, Miss Whitmore.”

  She slowed our steps. “So, it is not true? There is no understanding?”

  I set my gaze ahead again, uncertain of how much to divulge to this near stranger. If I said nothing, she would likely believe I had come to steal Augustus from her. But such a thing would do neither of us any good. “Not yet. Though I will not deny, to friendly ears only, that I do hope to receive an offer from Lord Thorton when he returns from France.” There. It was said. And heaven knew I needed the accountability.

  Another moment of silence passed between us as we neared the group again. “Well, I hope Lord Thorton is deserving of you. From what I’ve been told, you are one of a kind.”

  I glanced toward Miss Whitmore, surprised to see that she appeared genuine. “Thank you,” I muttered, trying not to make it sound like a question. Was she using my own tactics against me?

  She gave me a small smile before releasing my arm and moving toward her mother.

  “What did the two of you find to speak of?” Augustus’s curious expression reminded me of the offense he had given in refusing to warn me of his regard for Miss Whitmore.

  “It is of no consequence to you,” I said quietly, moving to step past him.

  He took a step back, lifting an arm to block my retreat. “I certainly hadn’t thought it to be of consequence until now.”

  I glanced around before fixing him with a scowl. “You should have warned me,” I hissed.

  His brow lowered. “Of what, exactly?” He leaned in close, just as he had done with Miss Whitmore.

  The very thought unnerved me, and I took a step away. “You know precisely what I am referring to.”

  He followed my sight to Miss Whitmore. “Miss Whitmore?”

  My stomach knotted at his acknowledgment. “Fortunately for you, I did not feel inclined to divulge your constant bombardment of flirtations.”

  His expression did not change, but there was a flicker in his eyes that left me feeling unsettled. “And how is what you accuse me of any different than what you are guilty of yourself?”

  I stilled.

  “Or did I miss you mentioning your upcoming engagement to Lord Thorton before I spoke of it when we passed Branbury Court?”

  I lifted my chin, relieved to discover he was not referencing my flirtations toward him. “That is different. There is not yet an understanding between us.”

  “Just as there is not an understanding between Miss Whitmore and myself. We are friends.”

  My heart leapt, but I simply shrugged my shoulders. “Yet you seem quite familiar with one another and most eager to reunite.”

  A corner of his mouth lifted. “Is that jealousy I detect in you?”

  My lips parted at the accusation, and I glanced around again to be sure no one had overheard him mention such a ridiculous notion. “Not in the slightest, I assure you.”

  “Being all too familiar with the sensation, I have become quite efficient at recognizing the same symptoms in others.” The other side of his mouth now lifted until a full and most infuriating smile lit his features. “And you are most certainly jealous.”

  I pressed my lips together, so entirely vexed I could hardly draw a breath.

  “Are you well, Miss Godwin?” Mrs. Brundage asked, stepping to my side.

  I forced my eyes from Augustus. “Yes.” I nodded my head a little too eagerly. “I was simply … we were just …” I could not find the words to continue.

  Mrs. Brundage’s brow wrinkled. “Well, the Whitmores and Mr. Treynor have just announced their intentions to depart. But they will return to dine with us”—she paused—“though our dinner will be a little later tonight, all things considered.”

  My face warmed at the realization that it was Augustus’s and my tardiness she was likely referring to, then I noticed the others’ collective attention already upon us. “It was such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Whitmore. Miss Whitmore.” I hoped my false smile seemed genuine from across the room. “And an absolute delight to see you again, Mr. Treynor. I shall very much look forward to this evening.”

  Both Whitmore women nodded their acknowledgments, but Mr. Treynor moved to me and took hold of my hand. “As will I,” he said, bowing over it.

  The moment he lowered my hand, I freed it from his grip. “Until then.”

  With one final bow, he walked from the room, the others filing out behind him. Only Miss Wh
itmore paused, lifting her hand in farewell before also disappearing out the door.

  “An absolute delight?” Augustus threw an inquisitive look at me. “If I didn’t know better, I would assume you fancied Mr. Treynor.”

  I sent him a scowl, but he only laughed.

  “Poor chap. If you aren’t a bit more cautious in your encouragements, he is destined to be very much in love with you by the end of his stay.”

  I glanced around the now empty drawing room, relieved I no longer needed to whisper. “Language is more than words. Only a simpleton would so willingly misunderstand me, Mr. Brundage.”

  “Augustus,” he corrected, with that smile of his. “And I’m not certain most men are as fluent in this language you refer to as you presume them to be.”

  I took a step nearer him. “Then they should be faulted for having neglected their studies.”

  He looked down at me. “And how would you recommend a man go about learning such a foreign subject?” He paused. “Not that I need it, per se.”

  “Of course, you would not.” I sent him a mischievous grin. “But, if there was such a man who desired to gain insight as to the ways of women, he should consider joining my lesson tomorrow.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

  Though the very thought of Augustus being present for our training sent my heart aflutter, I could not deny rendering aid to a friend in need. For of one thing I was sure. Augustus needed to be enlightened regarding poor Miss Whitmore’s undeniable attachment to him.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I am so glad you and Candace got on so well last night,” Ruth said, as we worked on our samplers. “I know she was most anxious about meeting you, but I told her not to fret as you are the dearest person in the whole world.” She paused. “Well, you and she both.” She glanced at Sarah. “And Sarah, you, of course, would be included on such a list.”

  I hid a smile as I bent over my sampler.

  Ruth dropped her needlework onto her lap, and her expression turned thoughtful. “I once overheard Owen and Augi speaking of Candace, where she was compared to a rare gem with so many lovely facets that she truly shined in comparison to others.” She sighed dreamily. “I loved the imagery so very much that I have not forgotten it to this day. Is that not the most wonderful description of her, Bella?”