Page 15 of A Brilliant Match
Evo didn’t look up again, but answered with cloying sweetness. “I’m an earl and can do what I like. Did you not know?”
“Perhaps. But agentlemankeeps his oath, even when it hurts,” she replied gently.
When he didn’t reply, or even look at her, she stood to leave the room. Her words had not penetrated his heart, not even a little bit.
* * *
At five o’clock,the sound of a knock on the front door alerted Dorothea to Mr. Shaw’s arrival. She put down the embroidery she was working on, thankful to have an excuse to leave it behind and go where there were more interesting things to see. Even if that was in the company of Mr. Shaw. Sophia did not appear to begrudge her the afternoon out and was content to stay with their mother.
Dorothea’s nerves quivered inside of her as the sound of the butler’s footsteps neared to announce their visitor. It couldn’t be from nervousness at seeing him, so she could only assume it was because she would join the fashionable crowds in Hyde Park, where she would be under the scrutiny of theton.She stood as soon as he entered, as did her mother and sister.
Mr. Shaw looked hale, having come in from the outdoors. His cheeks were ruddy, his eyes bright, and the combination of those colors only made his teeth shine all the whiter when he smiled. He came to stand in front of her and bowed.
“Lady Dorothea.” He then greeted her mother and sister. When he turned back to her and glanced at her gown, he hesitated. “It is rather cold outside. I fear to take you out if you are not covered well.”
A flash of annoyance went through her. He was right, of course. As soon as she saw his red cheeks, she realized she had not thought about the weather when she’d chosen her gown. It was not yet close to summer, and she was not going for a quick ride in a closed carriage, only to sit inside for a visit. She would be riding out in his open carriage, exposed to the elements for a sizeable length of time.
“I will be fine,” she assured him, unwilling to change or admit she had not thought everything through. “My redingote is quite warm.”
He did not appear convinced and looked to her mother and sister for assistance. But as she suspected, they were of no help to him. Her mother did not trouble herself with matters that did not concern her so nearly, and Sophia was too shy to speak out in public. She merely managed a whispered, “Enjoy your ride.”
Mr. Shaw thanked her and seemed to feel his case was lost. He held out his arm for Dorothea. She had not expected this courtly gesture in her own drawing room and thought it quite unnecessary, but she could not snub him. That was to be unkind for no good reason. She placed her hand on his arm and allowed Mr. Shaw to escort her out.
In the entryway, the butler helped her with her redingote, which was indeed lined and went to her ankles. It might have been smarter to change her dress for a thicker cotton and to have added a pelisse underneath, but she did not wish to prolong the moment. She tied a bonnet under her chin and allowed Mr. Shaw to lead her outside, where a street urchin was holding the horses. The handsome pair of chestnuts were connected to a phaeton finer than what she had expected of him. Perhaps he was not so impoverished as he had led her to believe.
After he helped her to a seat, she wrapped the skirt of her gown and redingote around her and tried to tuck the fabric under her knees for additional warmth. Mr. Shaw climbed up and reached behind him where he pulled out a blanket. He shook it out, keeping the reins in one hand as he spread it over her, leaning his arm against hers as he did so and causing a sensation of shock at the intimacy of the movement—and the kindness of it. Her breath grew unsteady until he pulled away.
“I can’t quite tuck it around you in the manner that would keep you most warm,” he said, “but I hope you will make free use of it.”
“Thank you,” she said, touched by his thoughtfulness, as the carriage started forward.
It was indeed colder than she had anticipated. She feared that even with the blanket it would not be long before the frigid air seeped into her and made the outing uncomfortable. The blanket was a nice gesture.
But then, she reasoned, any man who had the merest gentlemanly notion must think of such a thing. Mr. Shaw’s gesture was not so very out of the ordinary.
Would Father have thought of it?she asked herself. The answer required no deliberation.
Mr. Shaw was skilled at driving. He easily wove the carriage around the traffic and did not seem perturbed when another carriage drew too near to his. She allowed him the quiet he needed to focus and looked around her instead as they approached the park. It was pleasant to be in London and would be pleasanter still when it began to warm up.
As they drew near to the gates of Hyde Park, he glanced at her. “Not too cold?”
“No,” she replied, although her teeth had the ridiculous urge to chatter as though to prove her wrong. She clenched them.
It was not quite so cold underneath the blanket, but the blanket did not reach up to her chin. Or at least, she refused to pull the blanket up to her chin and so humiliate herself.
“You have a nice phaeton.” She had to clamp her lips shut to refrain from speaking the rest.I did not expect it.
“It is not mine,” he replied, cheerfully unaware how he must appear to others at such an admission. “I convinced my brother-in-law to lend it, which required a bit of ingenuity. He does not lend out his possessions easily.”
“I see,” she replied, attempting to keep the censure out of her voice.
Never had she had a conversation with someone who spoke without embarrassment about his financial situation, despite needing to borrow the most basic necessities. Strange that he did not seem at all shy about it, for it hardly recommended him to her. This was what made her think her sister had been misled in thinking he was interested in her simply because he’d asked about her. He certainly put no effort into displaying his most brilliant feathers.
“I did not ask you the night of the ball, but when did you arrive in London?” He did not appear to notice they had just entered the famous Rotten Row and that there was so much more to see there than the ends of their noses. How could he think to hold a conversation with all this around them?
She had to refrain from swiveling in her seat to catch sight of everyone who congregated there and barely managed to return a reply.
“We arrived the day of the ball, as a matter of fact. Lady Berkley had sent us an invitation in advance and we accepted it, but our delay in arriving had to do with Tilly, who had caught a cold.”
