Page 1 of A Well-Trained Lady

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.”