Page 46 of A Brilliant Match
As for the scented letters, she burned those. There was no need to torture herself or dishonor her mother by holding on to them. And when these particular ladies were pointed out to her at the opera, she knew they were to be avoided at all costs. Unsurprisingly, neither did they attempt to seek an introduction. Dorothea was gratified that her popularity had not seemed to dip, despite the distinct cooling in relations between Maryann and herself. Instead, she was busy greeting acquaintances almost everywhere she went. The only disappointment to mar this gratifying rise in popularity was that her mother and Sophia were too reserved to do the same.
A knock on the front door echoed in the entryway, and Dorothea paused in surprise, an invitation in hand. It was not the time of day for morning calls, and they were not expecting anyone to come. When she heard a deep male voice coming from the hall, her heart pounded and she stood suddenly, lightheaded as the blood drained from her face. The invitation dropped from her nerveless fingers.
Was it…? She could not resist stepping out of the drawing room to have her suspicions confirmed. Dorothea opened the door, and her breath hitched in her chest.Miles.
He went still, greeting her with a hesitant look, a tiny furrow between his eyes.A guilty look, she thought.
“Good afternoon, my lady.”
At least he did not attempt to use her Christian name after what he had done. Well! It was as well he did not. Her blood coursed with the desire to vent her spleen, especially after days of adding fuel to the fire of her wrath with no avenue for its outpouring.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” she asked him at her haughtiest, congratulating herself on how steady her voice was.
“I am here to see your brother.” He glanced down the hallway where the stairwell was. “We have made plans to meet my cousin and go to the races.”
He has not even come with the intention of begging my forgiveness?
The minute she had caught sight of him, Dorothea had been eager to hear his apology, so she might throw it back in his face. But apparently, apologies were the last thing he had in mind. No! He was here for a pleasure jaunt.
Turton seemed to sense the air crackling between them and murmured, “I will go and inform my lord of your visit.”
She nodded and slid her eyes back to Miles. They listened as the butler’s steps sounded down the hallway until he turned the corner and climbed the stairs.
“Mr. Shaw, I wish to see you in the drawing room,” she said in polite, clipped tones. “It won’t take but a minute of your time, and then you may go on your way to visit the races.”Or the club. Or the northern tip of Scotland. Anywhere but here.
Dorothea swept into the drawing room, sure that Miles would follow. As she strode to its center, the anger inside of her warred with her curiosity over why Miles would be taking Evo with him and Lord Pembroke. The curiosity was unhelpful at the moment, for despite herself, she was grateful Miles was taking her brother in hand. It provided an opportunity for Evo to frequent the company of Miles’s cousin—an earl Evo could look up to, and one who had no need to marry for a fortune. What was more, after her brother had come and apologized for his behavior at Lady Berkley’s residence, she’d had to work at rekindling her anger toward Miles over his base conduct. Such an unusual apology could only be owing to Miles’s influence.
However, none of that changed anything. She had fully trusted him to behave honorably, which was why it had hurt so much upon discovering the true nature of his situation. To learn he had not been authentic was difficult to forgive.
When she’d reached the middle of the drawing room she turned. “Close the door, if you please. What I wish to say to you is of a private nature.”
Miles did as she bade him and came into the room to stand in front of her. His bearing was somber and unlike the charming, teasing gentleman she once knew. Dorothea did not offer him a seat, for she did not intend for him to stay long enough. Besides, she was too agitated herself to be able to sit down.
“Did you or did you not propose to me because you needed my dowry, Mr. Shaw?” She held her fists at her side, afraid she would cross her arms—and a lady did not cross her arms in company.
Miles looked away for a brief instant before returning his eyes to her. “I did, but—”
“Thank you,” she cried hotly, cutting him off. “That is all I need to know. For all you might have hinted at wishing for a match based on the more tender affections, you have, in the end, acted upon very mercenary ones. You have proven yourself to be exactly like every other gentleman in Society, and I congratulate myself for not being quite so naive as to be deceived by it. Although I was naive, was I not? You must have sensed it and preyed upon me for that reason.”
He stepped forward, putting his hands out. “Dorothea, allow me—”
She would not hear it. “Although, you did not precisely speak of any of the more tender affections when proposing to me, did you? I suppose I imagined those all on my own.”
To Dorothea’s horror, tears traced down her cheeks. She whirled around and swiped at them.
“No, please don’t.”
His voice sounded in perfect agony as Miles came over and put his arms around her, then turned her gently. With one hand, he wiped the tears from her cheeks and leaned forward until he rested his forehead against hers.
Dorothea was unable to move as his fingers softly caressed her cheeks. Then his other arm encircled her, pulling her close. To be held tenderly was something she had only dreamed of. No one—no one—had ever held her in that way. It was more affection than she had ever thought possible coming from a man.
Time stretched, filled only with the sound of their breathing. She grew dizzy from remaining still but not for the life of her could she move. And then he was rocking her back and forth, murmuring something her senses were too befuddled to understand. He leaned down and kissed where her cheek met her temple, and she dared not draw breath.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Dorothea’s eyes snapped open. After a stunned moment, she pulled away slightly to look at him, her dream coming to an abrupt end. She saw the confusion on his face, but she knew better than to trust it.
He is lying!He did not love her. He had only feigned to, and was pretending still. Dorothea wrenched herself from his embrace and stood back to look at him, her chest heaving. She had been fooled into letting down her guard. It would not happen again—she would be sure of it.
