Page 107 of A Well-Trained Lady

A soft knock sounded.

Leah moved to the door and slowly opened it.

“Is Arabella readied enough to see me?”

“Papa.” I was already on my feet as Leah let him in and slid out the door, closing it behind her. “Mother told me you were out with the gentlemen.”

He shook his head. “I informed them I was too exhausted from my travels these past few days to join them.” He lifted a finger. “And it was not a mistruth as it was a very trying trip. Just this morning, on the last leg of our journey, the axle broke on the carriage.”

“Oh, Papa.” Worry pulled at my brow. “How fortunate you did not get injured.”

“Yes.” He stepped near enough to place a welcome kiss on my cheek. “And thankfully we were not far from the posthouse where we’d changed horses. The postmaster recommended a very capable coach-maker who is already working on the repair. He said he could have the carriage delivered as soon as Tuesday.”

I attempted a smile, but my lips would not accommodate me.

“You have had a rough go, haven’t you?” There was discernment in Papa’s eyes.

“Yes.” I hesitated. “And you should know that Mother told me not to speak with you until her return.”

“Yes. She told me likewise. But her presence will hinder my explanation—the explanation you deserve after everything you were made to endure because of my folly. Both past and present.”

“I’ve learned much of it on my own already. And Mother told me of the Setons.” I paused. “And who was accountable for their deaths.”

He nodded, not a hint of surprise in his expression. “Did she tell you why I complied with her demands? Why we kept Ruth from you?”

My throat went dry. “No.”

He moved to the wing-backed chair, gesturing for me to take a seat across from him on the chaise lounge.

There was hesitation in his features as he leaned forward in the chair, his feet wide and his elbows resting on his knees. “Susan—Ruth’s mother—and I had grown up with the understanding we would one day marry. I had loved her since I was a young boy, though I didn’t recognize it as love until too late. You see, your grandfather had gotten into a bit of a financial scrape, so much so that when your mother came along with her tempting fortune, he asked me to consider her instead of Susan. Fellerton was near ruin and we needed the funds.” Papa leaned back, his expression stern. “I was enchanted by your mother’s beauty, the way she mesmerized me with her flattery. I was too young and too foolish to realize the consequences of my choice, not only for me, but for Susan as well. I broke Susan’s heart and married your mother.

“After Susan married Mr. Seton, he moved her away to one of his estates just south of London, and for years we did not see one another. Nor did our neighboring families speak. When Susan’s parents died, she inherited everything and convinced her husband to remove their family to Blacksley. Mr. Seton was often away, and, with your mother finding little delight in my company and motherhood, she too would be gone for weeks at a time visiting one of her sisters.”

I nodded, all too aware of Mother’s neglect those first dozen years or so of my life.

Papa set his gaze on his folded hands. “It was during this time that Susan and I became reacquainted. It might have been wrong, but we were lonely … and you and Ruth took to each other instantly. We used to picnic—”

“Out by the stream.” I offered Papa a sad smile. “I remember.”

“Yes, I suppose you would.” He glanced toward the vacant hearth. “For years we managed to maintain our … friendship. But then one day, her husband happened upon us locked in an embrace on his way home to Blacksley. We didn’t see each other often after that, and it broke us both, but especially her.” Papa’s jaw clenched, and his hands tightened into fists. “The fiend treated her terribly ill, and year by year the life slowly faded from her. I wanted to intervene, but I never did.” Papa lowered his head, lifting his hand to cover his eyes.

I stood and walked to his side, kneeling at his feet.

His shoulders heaved forward with a sob. “I should have done something.” His words were hardly understandable. “I could have saved her.”

I took his hand in mine, my desire to comfort him stronger than all my uncertainty. “You cannot allow yourself to carry the blame for others’ choices.”

“Then let me at least carry the blame for going back on my word, for keeping Ruth from you.”

I swallowed, my fingers tightening around his hand. “What was your reasoning for doing so?”

“Susan wrote to me the day she died, having discovered I would not be at home so I could not stop her. In the letter she explained her intentions. Her reasons. And then …” He blew out a shaky exhale. “She asked me to care for Ruth once she was gone.”

I stiffened. “Mrs. Seton asked you to be Ruth’s guardian?”

“I’m not exactly certain what she meant by her request.” He sniffed and lifted his reddened eyes to mine. “But no, not even I took it as that. Another guardian had been named for Ruth in Mr. Seton’s will, a relative of his, I believe. And when they declined, Mr. and Mrs. Brundage gladly claimed their right, being next of kin.

“But I intended to play my part and ensure Ruth was given everything her mother wanted, including maintaining the friendship between the two of you. Your mother was wholly set against it. She believed any continued interaction with Ruth would make people question my reasoning, make them wonder if Ruth was my illegitimate child or if I’d had a role in the Setons’ deaths. She also mentioned your attachment to Augustus and how, if we allowed it to continue, it would ruin your future prospects. It was all preposterous really, and I told her so. I stated she had always loathed Susan, and therefore loathed Ruth and Augustus also. She did not deny it.”