Page 20 of A Well-Trained Lady

I glanced over at him. “Am I so very difficult to read, Mr. Brundage?”

“You are an absolute conundrum.” He grinned, but there was little humor in his eyes. “In truth, I have been trying to make sense of you since arriving at your Town house yesterday.”

I swallowed. “Is that so?”

He nodded. “I suppose I thought I’d find you so very changed, and in many ways I have.” He paused, and I warmed under his thoughtful consideration, against my better reasoning. “But in other ways, you have not changed at all.”

I moved away from him, disappointed he should not have found me entirely changed from the ingenuous girl I had once been. And yet, though I was loath to admit it, I was also not oblivious to the conflict raging within me—the desire to revert back to that very person Augustus and Ruth had once known. But it would not do. I was no longer that person. I set my gaze on the stall where we had just stopped, eager to move on from his appraisal. “Now tell me of this next horse.”

Augustus’s regard lingered on me for another uncomfortable moment before he gestured to the horse. “This is Sarah’s mare, Blossom. She is the tamest of all the horses, which is most fitting.” We walked on further. “The empty stall here is where Owen keeps his horse while he’s visiting.”

“And how is your brother?”

“He is well.” Augustus moved to the stall across from the empty one, and I couldn’t help but wonder a second time why he didn’t care to speak of Owen. “And this little lady is Mother’s. We call her Buttercup.”

I stifled my amusement at how uncreative some people were. With the same golden color from mane to foot, I should have thought to name her Hesperides, after the nymphs of golden light. Though I had to admit the horse was left wanting at being compared to a divine spirit of the Greeks. Perhaps Buttercup did suit her better.

Augustus lifted his arm when we reached the last stall, and a large, dark stallion walked toward his outstretched hand.

Despite my lack of experience, I was certain this horse was one of the most magnificent I’d seen. “Now that is a stunning horse, Mr. Brundage.”

He ran his hands along its jaw and down its thick, muscular neck. “You should see him run.” His voice was quiet, as though in reverence for the beast.

“I’m certain it is quite the sight.” My words conjured an image of Augustus atop the large stallion, and my cheeks began to warm at my inability to push it from my mind.

“Then join us for a ride.”

I met his imploring stare. “I was truthful when I said I no longer ride. I haven’t since my fall. Papa hired a riding instructor to help me conquer my fear, but I refused his tutelage and haven’t ridden since.” I looked back at the stallion, slightly embarrassed I had felt a need to say so much.

Augustus took a step closer. “I’m terribly sorry for it.”

“I did not tell you to earn your sympathies, Mr. Brundage, but simply to assure you of my reason for not accepting your invitation.”

“But it was my fault.”

“Yes, it was.” I hesitated. “But had you not been the cause, sooner or later I would have come to the same conclusion—some things are simply not worth the risk.” I felt Augustus studying my profile, and I shifted away from him.

“Yet some things are.”

The air was stagnant as I drew it in, and I glanced back at Ruth. “Shall we return?”

The warmth of his hand on my arm penetrated my defenses, nearly toppling the wall I had been building between us. One touch. I was absolutely pathetic.

“Come, Bella.” His voice was soft. “Can we not make things right between us?”

I spun toward him, yanking my arm free. “I asked you not to call me Bella.” The uncertainty touching his features did nothing to prevent the anger rising inside me, my blood boiling from years of pent up, unresolved frustration. But I managed to maintain my composure. “You can hardly claim to know me anymore, let alone take such privileges.”

His outstretched hand retracted, dropping to his side. “I wanted to stay in touch. Surely you must know that.”

My hands clenched into fists at my sides, and an odd sensation prickled my spine. I longed to simply walk away, precisely as he had done to me, but I could not convince my feet of the wisdom. “How would I have known? You never told me.” Tears blurred my vision as I glared at Augustus, but I refused to let them free. I had no intention of providing more evidence of my foolish care.

His shoulders dropped. “Please understand—”

“—that I was nothing more to you than a friend of convenience? A willing distraction from your boredom when you would visit Blacksley?” The accusation tumbled from my lips before I could stop it.

Grief etched deep into Augustus’s features. “That is not true.”

My chest rose and fell in quick succession, and I attempted to convince myself to say no more, to not let him affect me. I was resolute on adhering to the training I’d undergone. But the words had been held in too long, and I was powerless to contain them. “All those years and not a letter. Three Seasons. Three! And not a word from you. When you and Ruth left, I had no one.” I looked away from his sorrow-filled eyes. “And you didn’t even care.” A blasted tear escaped down my cheek, and I swiped it away.