Page 2 of A Well-Trained Lady

Lady Brimhall now looked to her husband. “We are quite fortunate. 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.