Page 21 of A Well-Trained Lady

He took a cautious step forward. “But I did.”

I ignored both the perceptible trembling of my body and the sincerity in Augustus’s countenance. “Do not try to pacify me. Not now. Not when I’ve finally convinced myself to let it alone.”

“And yet I entreat you to believe me.” His voice was gentle and far too near when his hand found mine. At his touch, a peculiar ache surged through me—a longing to be what we once were. I glanced down, suddenly conflicted if I should pull away or welcome it. “If it had been my choice—”

“Are you claiming that you are not to blame for your disregard?” I lifted my gaze to his, curiosity nearly diffusing my anger. Nearly.

“That is precisely what I am claiming. And though I wish I could say more, I cannot.”

I set my jaw. “Of course you cannot. Why should I expect any different from you?”

Augustus glanced back in the direction we’d come, dropped my hand, and took a step from me. I followed his line of sight to discover Ruth nearly upon us.

I forced a smile to my lips and stepped to meet her. “I was just about to retrieve you.” Linking my arm with hers, I started us toward the stable entrance. “And where are we off to next?” I focused my gaze forward, my bonnet shielding my reddened eyes.

“Considering we don’t have much time before we must dress for dinner, I figured you’d like to see the rose garden. With the roses in bloom, the smell is intoxicating.” Ruth glanced behind her. “Are you coming, Augi?”

I did not look back for the echo of heavy footsteps told me what I needed to know.

“And have you concluded that your Guinevere has missed you as much as you have missed her?” I asked, desperate to draw my thoughts away from Augustus and the confusion he had just elicited within me.

“Oh, yes. I’m certain she has. I only regret that I cannot take her out until tomorrow.”

“And where do you typically ride?”

“Oh heavens. So many places.” The mind-numbing chatter on the different routes that were typically ridden was enough to settle me. As Ruth continued, my thoughts wandered back to my conversation with Augustus and what he could have meant by if it had been his choice. He had seemed reluctant to speak of it, which only strengthened my resolve in discovering his meaning. Yet why should he confide in me after I had made it quite clear we were no longer friends?

I glanced over my shoulder to find Augustus several strides behind us, his gaze cast downward. The pensive expression on his face reminded me of another time I had seen him appear so downtrodden—the days following the deaths of his aunt and uncle—and the memory stirred an all-too-familiar desire within me to forgive him.

The very thought of resuming the friendship we had once known made my pulse race. No. We would never be what we once were, as I was no longer an impressionable and naïve young lady. Besides, I needed to tread carefully considering my intentions to secure Lord Thorton. I could not risk everything I had worked toward, and I had no intention to hurt Augustus by allowing him to believe otherwise. It was not only best for all involved, but absolutely necessary that I keep my distance from Augustus. Or was it? A small sigh escaped me.

“Am I boring you?” Concern touched Ruth’s expression.

“No. Not at all.” I offered a reassuring smile. “Please go on.”

With only a brief pause she picked up wherever she had left off. I kept my focus on her this time, refusing myself another thought of Augustus or a glimpse in his direction. Neither would strengthen my resolve in the least.

“Look at all the variations.” Ruth dropped my arm to point out the exquisite shades of color. “Is the sight of it not spectacular?”

I scanned the rows of bushes with brightly colored blooms. “It is.” There was no need to pretend delight. I drew in the sweet fragrance. “As is the smell.”

“I told you it was intoxicating!” Ruth wandered onto the next row and stopped. “How extraordinary,” she called. “These roses here have yellow at the base and red on the tips. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen the likes of it anywhere but Fairhaven.” She leaned in closer to examine the petals, leaving only the top of her bonnet still visible to me. “I wonder if they grow that way naturally, or if the gardener has used some strategy to make it happen. Regardless, I think I must declare this variation to be my favorite.” She straightened, becoming once again visible, and glanced at a nearby bush. “Though those purple ones are also very lovely.” Her focus changed again. “And I must admit that most days I tend to favor roses of the pink variety.” A woeful sigh met my ear. “Perhaps it is unwise to make such declarations when I am not yet completely settled on my opinion.”

“I do believe that is very wise of you. How tragic it would be to proclaim something so adamantly only to refute your selection later.”

Ruth nodded, a sober expression on her face. “You are entirely correct. I shall continue to deliberate on the matter,” she said, her voice in earnest as she meandered farther down the other aisle, stopping to study the flowers on each bush as she went.

“And what color most suits you, Miss Godwin?” Augustus rounded the corner of the walkway where I stood, causing me to tense. But his expression was softer now. “Or perhaps you are not yet certain of your choice either?”

“I am always certain of my choice, Mr. Brundage.” At once I felt a hypocrite with the way my whole soul pushed me to change my resolve and forgive him. The nearer he came, the more I longed to forget all I’d come to know these past years and digress into the girl I’d once been—the girl who could never refuse Augustus anything, not even her heart.

No. I was not her any longer. I was stronger and wiser. Reason must be my guide, as Mother had taught, not whimsical sentiments. “I prefer the white ones.” I touched the soft, velvet petal of a newly budding rose. “It is refined yet still breathtaking.”

Augustus stopped next to the bush I was admiring. He reached out and carefully pulled the bud from the branch before extending it to me.

I looked down at his offer. “I cannot accept that.”

“It is only a rose, Miss Godwin.”