Page 56 of A Well-Trained Lady

“And what is that?”

I repressed a moan. “Pedigrees and breeding.”

Her eyes flew to Mr. Treynor as he finished filling the glass for me. “But I know nothing about any of it,” she said, her voice a forced whisper.

“You needn’t know a thing. All you must do is encourage and compliment him along the way.”

Panic filled her features. “Why don’t you do it? You said you’d show me how it’s done.”

“Because I know you can.” I paused. “And because I’m quite certain I glimpsed a spark of intrigue when he looked at you just now.”

“Here you are, Miss Godwin,” Mr. Treynor said, approaching with my drink.

I took hold of it. “Thank you.” My gaze flickered back to Ruth, who stood motionless with her mouth agape. “In your absence, Ruth mentioned that the reason she does not care for pedigrees is because she knows so little about them. But, if perhaps someone could assist her …”

A small grin appeared on Mr. Treynor’s lips.

“I do long to know more,” she said, her blush absolutely perfect. “That is if you don’t mind sharing some of what you know.”

A smile filled Mr. Treynor’s features. “I would be most pleased to oblige you. What is it you desire to understand?”

Her eyes moved to me, but all I offered was an encouraging nod. “Well,” she said, giving him her full attention. “I suppose one must start at the beginning.”

He took a breath. “Well, a pedigree is an ancestral history of the horse. Not simply its sire and dam, nor a step up in generations from there, but the tracing of its lineage to specific and notable bloodlines. You see, a winning thoroughbred will likely have a healthy mix of English and Arabian ancestry.”

“And why is that?” Ruth asked, now completely focused on him.

“Well, Arabian horses are lighter and faster with more stamina. English breeds are of larger size, so when they were first bred the offspring were—”

“Larger than the Arabians, but still fast with stamina.”

Mr. Treynor’s delight mirrored Ruth’s. “Precisely.”

“It is all quite brilliant, I suppose. I can understand why you find it so fascinating.” Ruth faltered ever so briefly before she found her next question. “But how do you know which bloodlines are superior?”

Not wanting to distract Ruth from her purpose, I repressed an excited smile by taking a sip of my drink. She continued on marvelously as Mr. Treynor explained how to ensure the best outcome for siring a quality racing horse. Though I cared little for such information, watching the two of them get along was preferable to watching Augustus and Miss Whitmore doing so.

Augustus stepped to my side, the warmth of him absurdly gratifying. When I saw that Miss Whitmore was no longer with him, I set my drink down and took hold of his arm. “I was hoping to have a word with you.” Mr. Treynor’s gaze flicked toward us, and I hurried to pull Augustus away before the interruption could disrupt Ruth’s success.

We took several steps away, and he leaned in close. “What is it you wish to discuss?”

“I merely did not wish for you to disturb Ruth and Mr. Treynor when they are getting on so well.” Augustus hardly looked thrilled with my reasoning, but I tightened my grip on him so he would be obliged to stay. “But now that you mention it. You have reminded me of something I wish to speak to you about. You see, I asked my maid to update a few of Ruth’s dresses, and we noticed that she is in need of a gown for full-dress.”

“And you wished to see about having one commissioned?”

I gave a small shrug. “If that is agreeable. One should be perfectly sufficient, or perhaps two. For she will require a ball gown also.”

Augustus gave an amused shake of his head. “Two it is, but I trust you will be economical in your selections.”

“I shall be as careful as if it were being made at my own expense.”

His gaze moved over my gown in a way that brought a blush to my cheeks, before a teasing smile lifted onto his lips. “On second thought, you should consider inviting my mother along.”

“So little trust.” I nudged my shoulder into him, feeling no need to confirm I had already planned on speaking with Mrs. Brundage about the matter.

Our regard moved back to Mr. Treynor and Ruth. “And I suppose that is your doing?”

I lifted my chin. “It is.”