Page 3 of A Well-Trained Lady

“I am Arabella,” I said curtly. Lady Beatrice and Miss Browning ducked behind their fans, muted whispers adding to my impatience. “But to those with whom I’m not well acquainted, I am addressed as Miss Godwin.”

The girl’s face turned scarlet, and her smile faded. “Forgive me. I assumed you would recognize me.”

I tried to place her unremarkable face. She hardly appeared old enough to be attending a ball, yet something about her did seem oddly familiar. “I’m sorry, but I have no recollection of you.” I glanced toward Miss Browning who had peeked over her fan. She looked as though she were about to start another fit of giggles when she lifted the fan again. How I wished this homely child would seek companionship elsewhere. How had she even managed to obtain an invitation?

“It’s me.” The young woman’s large, brown eyes implored me to remember her. “Ruth.”

My legs threatened to give out beneath me. “Ruth Seton?”

She nodded, and her exuberant smile once again brightened her face.

“Forgive me for not knowing you directly, but it has been ages since I’ve seen you.” I reached out, clasping her hands in mine, searching for a likeness of the girl I once knew. “How much you have grown.”

“And you look precisely as I pictured you, though your hair is a touch more golden than I would have thought.” She leaned in closer. “But your eyes are the same dark blue.” She sighed, taking in the rest of me. “You must be the most beautiful lady in all of London!”

My amused laugh did not drown out the huffs from behind me. “You were always one for exaggeration.” I released her hands and glanced behind me at the affronted expressions of our onlookers. “Lady Beatrice, Miss Browning, may I introduce you to Miss Seton?”

They lowered their fans further and nodded in unison, Ruth waving her hand in a gauche manner.

“She was our neighbor at Fellerton when I was young,” I said, feeling a sudden need to clarify our connection.

“Well then,” Lady Beatrice said, taking hold of Miss Browning’s arm, “we have no desire to prevent the two of you from becoming reacquainted.”

Uncertain if I felt relief or aggravation at their prompt departure, I inclined my head in farewell, all too aware of the giggles trailing behind them as they left us.

“Is it not wonderful that we have crossed paths after all these years?” Ruth’s smile widened. “I only wish Augustus were here.” I stiffened at hearing his name, but she did not seem to take notice of it. And why would she? She did not know the agony he’d caused me. “I’m certain he shall scarcely believe me when I tell him I happened upon you this evening.”

“Your cousin is not here, then?”

“No. He abhors balls and would not be persuaded otherwise.”

The tension in my body eased at knowing I would not be forced to pretend polite ignorance at seeing him again. “That does not surprise me in the least. Too constricting for him, I daresay.”

Ruth laughed. “How well you know him.”

Knew him. “But I do hope he is well?” I asked, out of obligation.

“Oh, very well. He has taken over the role of patriarch most admirably since my uncle’s death.”

I reached out and touched her hand. “Oh, Ruth. I’m so sorry to hear of your loss.”

Her smile lessened. “It was most unexpected, but we are managing.”

I tipped my head to the side. “That must have been hard on all of you. I know how fond of him you were, as were your cousins.”

She nodded, her eyes glistening in the candlelight.

I glanced around, having no desire to bring her to tears at the Brimhall’s ball. “And has Augustus settled down, then?” I asked it with a tone of indifference, as though the answer would not affect me, for it most certainly should not.

Ruth nodded. “He certainly has.”

My heart dropped at her confirmation, despite how I reprimanded it. Of course he should be married by now. It had been years since I had last seen him.

“In truth,” Ruth said, “you would hardly believe him to be once so full of mischief. Though, he does still tease us from time to time, and we are always glad to see it.”

I tipped my chin downward, uncertain whether she was still answering my question or if she had misunderstood me entirely. “Does his wife appreciate his teasing?”

Ruth quirked her head to one side. “Augustus is not married.” Her hand lifted to her mouth. “Oh, is that what you meant by settled down? How silly of me. Of course I should have known that. No, he is still most eligible despite him being the kindest, most handsome man in all of Dorset. All of England, really.” She paused. “Though I admit I likely hold a biased opinion on the matter.”