Page 46 of A Well-Trained Lady

Mrs. Brundage’s brow wrinkled. “Well, the Whitmores and Mr. Treynor have just announced their intentions to depart. But they will return to dine with us”—she paused—“though our dinner will be a little later tonight, all things considered.”

My face warmed at the realization that it was Augustus’s and my tardiness she was likely referring to, then I noticed the others’ collective attention already upon us. “It was such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Whitmore. Miss Whitmore.” I hoped my false smile seemed genuine from across the room. “And an absolute delight to see you again, Mr. Treynor. I shall very much look forward to this evening.”

Both Whitmore women nodded their acknowledgments, but Mr. Treynor moved to me and took hold of my hand. “As will I,” he said, bowing over it.

The moment he lowered my hand, I freed it from his grip. “Until then.”

With one final bow, he walked from the room, the others filing out behind him. Only Miss Whitmore paused, lifting her hand in farewell before also disappearing out the door.

“An absolute delight?” Augustus threw an inquisitive look at me. “If I didn’t know better, I would assume you fancied Mr. Treynor.”

I sent him a scowl, but he only laughed.

“Poor chap. If you aren’t a bit more cautious in your encouragements, he is destined to be very much in love with you by the end of his stay.”

I glanced around the now empty drawing room, relieved I no longer needed to whisper. “Language is more than words. Only a simpleton would so willingly misunderstand me, Mr. Brundage.”

“Augustus,” he corrected, with that smile of his. “And I’m not certain most men are as fluent in this language you refer to as you presume them to be.”

I took a step nearer him. “Then they should be faulted for having neglected their studies.”

He looked down at me. “And how would you recommend a man go about learning such a foreign subject?” He paused. “Not that I need it, per se.”

“Of course, you would not.” I sent him a mischievous grin. “But, if there was such a man who desired to gain insight as to the ways of women, he should consider joining my lesson tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Though the very thought of Augustus being present for our training sent my heart aflutter, I could not deny rendering aid to a friend in need. For of one thing I was sure. Augustus needed to be enlightened regarding poor Miss Whitmore’s undeniable attachment to him.

Chapter Twelve

“I am so glad you and Candace got on so well last night,” Ruth said, as we worked on our samplers. “I know she was most anxious about meeting you, but I told her not to fret as you are the dearest person in the whole world.” She paused. “Well, you and she both.” She glanced at Sarah. “And Sarah, you, of course, would be included on such a list.”

I hid a smile as I bent over my sampler.

Ruth dropped her needlework onto her lap, and her expression turned thoughtful. “I once overheard Owen and Augi speaking of Candace, where she was compared to a rare gem with so many lovely facets that she truly shined in comparison to others.” She sighed dreamily. “I loved the imagery so very much that I have not forgotten it to this day. Is that not the most wonderful description of her, Bella?”

I pulled too swiftly on my embroidery string, knotting it. “Miss Whitmore was a delight,” I admitted, though somewhat vexed at the concession. It was no easy feat to truly dislike someone of Miss Whitmore’s nature, despite how much I had tried at first. Had she been more like her scheming mother, the task would have been simpler, but Miss Whitmore appeared to be both kind and genuine. With such an agreeable disposition, I might wonder how she had remained unattached throughout her first Season were it not for how her regard had lingered on Augustus throughout the evening before shifting to me. The memory of it did not sit well in the least.

I drew in a steadying breath, recalling Augustus’s assurance that he and Miss Whitmore were no more than friends. I certainly noticed his high regard of her, but, for the most part, his declaration seemed to have been given in truth. Neither had sought another private conversation after the initial one, nor were their following interactions any more flirtatious than Augustus’s were with me—less so, even.

“And what are your thoughts on Mr. Treynor?” I asked Ruth, longing to move on from further scrutinizing the situation. It did not matter where Augustus’s—nor Miss Whitmore’s—affections lay. I was resolved on attaching myself to Lord Thorton, for Lord Thorton was very much my equal.

“He seems a most affable gentleman.”

I glanced up from my attempt to dislodge the knot. “And do you find him handsome?”

Ruth blushed, and her gaze darted to Sarah. “I suppose he is tolerable.”

Sarah’s eyes twinkled. “She finds him more than tolerable. I believe quite fetching were the words she used to describe him.”

“Sarah!” Ruth’s expression of betrayal lasted only moments before she broke out in a fit of giggles, inducing Sarah along.

I smiled at their silliness but shook my head for good measure, refocusing on the blasted knot that would not come free.

“Have you begun today’s instruction without me?” Augustus stood in the doorway, his consideration moving between Sarah and Ruth before settling on me.

My heart thudded in my chest, but I stood and put the knotted sampler on the side table as though unaffected by his appearance. “No. You are just in time.”