Chapter-Three

I glanced around for Augustus’s horse, desperate to discover it was saddled and waiting nearby. There was no horse. “Do you not intend to ride, Mr. Brundage?”

He stepped to my side but did not look at me. “I did not bring a horse with me to Town. I hope it is not disagreeable that I shall be riding in the coach also.” His words were friendly enough, but his tone was distant as he offered his hand to assist me inside.

My stomach clenched at the thought of hours in his company, especially after my unkindness toward Leah. “It is not disagreeable in the least.” I lightly placed my hand in his before ascending into the carriage. When he removed his support, I brushed my fingers against my traveling dress to diffuse the sensation of his touch and took the seat across from Leah. I thought to smile at her, but she did not look up.

“Is it not a most pleasant day for travelling?” Ruth asked, ducking her head as she entered the carriage. “I admit I have a small inclination to worry, and I thought of all the ways our travels might be ruined, yet I’m beginning to believe I fretted in vain.”

Had she not yet realized her cousin’s intentions to ride with us as I had?

Ruth gathered her skirts from behind her and positioned herself on the rear-facing seat next to Leah. “Hopefully tomorrow will prove equally amiable for the remainder of our journey.”

I patted the seat next to me. “Will you not sit here?”

“I would,” she said, looking a touch sheepish, “but I fear my stomach prefers it if I face backward. I know it’s odd, but I suppose it is what I grew used to over the years, and now I cannot convince my body otherwise.”

I had nothing to offer besides an unenthusiastic nod before I focused out the window nearest me. I shuddered to think what Mother would say if she were to witness an unrelated gentleman taking the seat next to me—and without a proper chaperone present. But then again, I would not be here at all if Mother had known of Papa’s forced invitation for me to visit Fairhaven.

The carriage shifted under Augustus’s weight, and I sensed him move in beside me. The decently-sized cab now seemed infuriatingly small as he shut the door and gave two distinct taps on the roof. With the initial jerk of the carriage reminding me what I had just agreed to, I attempted to draw in a calming breath. The air was stagnant and heavy.

“And you,” Ruth began, and I glanced at her before realizing she was speaking to Leah. “You must be Bella’s maid? Leah, was it?”

Leah sent me a hesitant look, and I gave her a slight nod of permission.

“Yes, miss.”

“Are you from London?”

“No, Somerset.” Leah did not offer more.

“Somerset? Of course, you would be from near Bath. I spent my childhood there. Oh, how I miss it. Though I must say, you will probably love Dorset just as much if you allow yourself. It is beautiful beyond description. And there are some great footpaths near Fairhaven you must take, for there is no better way to see the surrounding area than exploring. Do you not agree?”

Leah gave a slow nod and looked to me, her expression clearly entreating me to intervene. It was one thing to be made to ride inside a carriage with your mistress and her friends, but it was quite another to be treated as though you were one of them. Poor thing.

“How tired you look, Leah,” I said, eager to make amends for snipping at her on the way out. I tilted my head to the side and examined her. “You must be exhausted from all your labors to have me readied so early. Do you care to rest a while?”

It took only a moment for Leah to realize the liberation I’d granted her. “Thank you, miss. I believe I may just sleep all day.” Leaning against the side of the carriage, she closed her eyes.

Augustus’s gaze flicked to me, but I pretended to not notice.

“The houses in this part of Mayfair are quite large.” Ruth looked out the window again, her hands resting on the shallow sill, taking in the passing scene.

“Is your Town house nearby?” I tried not to feel self-conscious with Augustus listening.

Ruth shifted in her seat to more fully face me. “Oh, but we do not have a Town house. We’ve been staying with the Whitmores just a few streets over. Mrs. Whitmore has a daughter—Candace—who is about to turn one and twenty. Only a year older than me.” She brightened. “And only a few months younger than you. Do you recall me mentioning them at the ball?”

“I recall you mentioning the name Whitmore.” I paused, attempting to keep the jealousy from altering my voice. “Though I did not realize they had a daughter about our age.”

“Oh yes. And she is the loveliest person in all the world. Is she not, Augustus?” I refused to look at him, but Ruth’s eyes danced as they returned to me, evidence that Augustus had not refuted her claim. “You shall love her as readily as I do. I am certain of it.”

“Then I shall look forward to our introduction.”

“I am surprised you do not yet know one another, being that this was her second Season.”

I clasped my hands in my lap, uncertain how to explain, particularly under Augustus’s watchful eye, that I would have known Miss Whitmore had we moved in the same social circles. We did not. True, we both attended Lord and Lady Brimhall’s ball, but that was likely an anomaly, considering the Whitmores had not been invited based off their own merits but as relations. Yet I could not say as much without giving airs to my higher status, and I had no desire to make Ruth, or even Augustus, feel lesser. “Likely the sheer number of young ladies during the Season prevented our meeting.”

“Are there so very many?”

“Oh, yes. Hundreds just among the ton.”

Ruth quirked her brow. “I imagined far less, but I suppose I would not know as I’ve not had a Season.”

I tilted my head. “Is that not why you were in Town?”

“No. Well, obviously we were for a small part of it, but that was not our purpose for coming to London. Augustus had business to attend to, so he brought me along knowing how I longed to visit Candace. And we saw much of Owen in the evenings. You remember Augustus’s brother?”

“Of course,” I said, though most of what I recalled about him came from stories Augustus had told me

“Does he reside in London now?”

“Currently.” Augustus offered a tight-lipped grin in lieu of more information, so I returned my attention to Ruth.

“So how long was your stay?”

“In the end it was just over a fortnight.” She looked at Augustus. “And aren’t you glad we stayed those extra few days, cousin? For had we not, I never would have encountered Bella at the ball.” Unable to refuse my curiosity, I glanced at Augustus. His expression was steeled, but the uncertainty in his eyes was still distinguishable. “To be sure,” he said, his dull tone contradicting his affirmation.

After a brief pause, I covered my hurt with a forced laugh. “Your cousin does seem most overjoyed by our reacquaintance, does he not?” I sent him a wry smile, knowing full well how to pull him from his melancholy, though I wasn’t certain I wished to. “I hardly believed Ruth when she made mention of it, but you have become somber.”

Ruth’s expression filled with contrition. “I … well, I did mention it, Augi, but—”

I gave a dismissive wave of my hand. “Oh, Ruth, do not fret. It was imperative that your cousin should grow up at some point, and I fear such a thing requires a less mischievous temperament.”

Augustus appraised my features before his mouth curved upward on one side. “Mischievous? I believe your memory escapes you.”

My heart lifted as it always had when we used to tease one another, and I looked to Ruth. “Did he not taunt me mercilessly with his boyish tactics during his visits to Blacksley?”

Ruth tightened her lips together, her eyes now alight with glee, and she nodded.

Augustus shifted in his seat to face me more fully, resting his arm on the back of the bench. “What boyish tactics are you referring to exactly?”

I lifted a brow at him, ignoring the accelerated pounding of my heart and the warmth of his hand so near my bare neck. “You rubbed mud in my hair, put frogs down my frock, and hung my favorite doll from a tree.”

“That was before our truce.”

“And what of the time you took me fishing?”

He gave a half-hearted shrug. “What of it?”

My mouth opened in disbelief at his blatant oversight. “The way you bashed that fish with a rock is still seared into my memory.”

He began to shake with laughter, and I resisted the strangely familiar urge to join him. “The blame there should not fall entirely on me. You had to have realized that fish must first die if they are to be eaten?”

I pierced him with my most unamused stare, waiting for him to appear sufficiently contrite.

After a moment he filled his cheeks with air and released it slowly through his mouth, resuming a more appropriate demeanor. “Forgive me. I never meant to distress you.”

“Not even the time you nearly shot me with an arrow?”

He removed his arm from the back of the bench and pointed a lighthearted finger at me. “That was an accident, and I apologized.” “Or the time you carried on as though William Morris, the pig man’s son, was fond of me—writing me those horrendous love letters?”

His lips squeezed shut, and he placed his clenched hand atop them to conceal his growing amusement. “Not an accident, I admit, but they were not horrendous. I heard you telling Ruth how well-written you thought them.”

My mouth parted. “You spied on us?”

He paused, then dipped his chin in mock contrition. “I now see that admitting it does not help my plight.”

I took in Ruth’s contented expression, unable to conceal my pleasure. “After everything I suffered at your cousin’s hands, I’m beginning to wonder at my decision to come along.” My intention was to tease, but the smile melted from Augustus’s lips. Time seemed to stop at seeing him so altered in countenance. Yet why should I be bothered that his conscience was pricked by my words? The guilt was not mine but his own. “Luckily for him,” I said, unable to prevent myself from righting the situation, “I have always been willing to overlook his troublesome ways.”

The corners of his lips curved upward again, though the smile lacked its previous radiance.

Unsure how to proceed in the ensuing silence, I focused on Ruth. “Tell me of Fairhaven. I long to know everything about it.”

She beamed back at me, needing no further insistence to fill the quiet. “Fairhaven must be one of the finest houses in all of England.” Ruth paused. “Well, to be completely honest, I don’t believe that would be a fair assessment, as I have not visited many houses outside of Dorset.” Her brows pulled low. “In truth, I haven’t visited many houses within Dorset either. Yet I have seen a great many from the outside, and Fairhaven, though not as large as some, is equally beautiful. Not to mention that the countryside gets more mesmerizing the closer you get to the coast. Do you not agree, Augi?”

Augustus nodded in my periphery.

Ruth leaned forward. “Do you think we could take Bella to the seaside?”

“If she desires it.”

Ruth reached out and touched my knee. “Would you like that?”

“Very much. I have never been to the sea.”

Ruth sighed. “There is nothing like it in this world. The waves crashing against the beach. Oh, and the smell. Cousin, tell Bella of the way the air smells. It is almost as though you can taste the salt in the air. And the way the water covers your feet … it feels as though you are being pulled out to sea, like the ocean is yearning to keep you if you’d only let it.”

I attempted to hide my dismay at such a notion. “I am certain I shall not be brave enough to venture in.”

Ruth blinked rapidly. “But to go all the way to the ocean—and for the first time—to not go in?”

I sensed Augustus watching me again, and I tilted my head, allowing a kind smile to touch my lips. “Observing your enjoyment will be quite enough to satisfy me.” I glanced at Augustus. “And do you enjoy the ocean as much as your cousin, Mr. Brundage?” I asked, hoping to make him aware of his unpleasant habit of staring.

He did not look away but offered a thoughtful grin. “I’m not certain anyone can enjoy the ocean as much as Ruth, but I certainly try.”

I gave a nod and looked back to his cousin.

Taking it as permission to continue, we listened as Ruth described the shells, the sea birds, the quality of sand and on and on with whatever came into her mind. By the time we reached our first stop, I felt desperate for some quiet.

Augustus saw to acquiring the next team of horses while we took our midday meal inside the posting-house. Ruth was thrilled with the food and spoke of her love of all types of pies, from minced meat to fresh blackberry. At the second stop she recounted the first time she had tasted ice cream and by the next we had discussed her favorite teas to alarming detail.

By the time we reached the coaching inn that night, I felt strangely exhausted. I hardly received as much interaction in a day with my parents as I did in five minutes with Ruth. Now, after ten hours of her endless chatter, I realized that the constant pace had worn me down more than I cared to admit.

Eager to sleep, I went directly to my room. But the lumpy bed and the rancid smell of the place made sleep hard to come by. I tossed and turned with dreams of Papa and Mother quarrelling with the Setons. Then came my repeated nightmare, one I thought I had finally quelled.

In the dream, I stood at a window staring out at countless people passing by, none of whom I recognized. Each movement, each sound, disquieted me, but I waited. And waited.

Augustus never came.

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