Page 6 of A Brilliant Match
By way of answer, she set her hand on his arm, and he led her forward, dodging a couple as the ballroom had begun to fill.
“Are there just the three children of the late Lord Poole? You, your sister, and your brother, the young earl?”
She shook her head, slowing as they reached the table that held the refreshments. “You are missing the three sisters who are still in the schoolroom. Or should I say, two are in the schoolroom. Camilla is old enough to be out, but we all thought that three Rowlandson ladies making their débuts at once would not be quite the thing.”
Miles spoke a few words to the servant standing near the refreshment table and procured two glasses of cold lemonade for them both.
“Camilla, you say? With the Ladies Dorothea and Sophia…dare I guess that each one of the daughters has a name that ends with ana?”
“You might guess, and you would be right,” Lady Dorothea said before lifting her cup to her lips, her smile revealed only in her eyes. “My father must have given way to my mother’s insistence on that score, for he was not at all sentimental. There are still Joanna and Matilda to bring out at some distant date.”
“And the Earl of Poole? Does his name end in anaas well?” Miles teased. “Roberta? Fredericka?”
“It does not,” she replied primly. The twitch of her lips convinced him that for all her chin’s signs of stubbornness, she did not lack humor. “His name is Everard.”
He accepted this with a nod and let a natural silence fall. He watched her drink and look around the room. She seemed to take naïve pleasure in the sights. It was refreshing.
This time she turned to him to ask, “Do you have… Where is your estate located?”
The question caught him off guard, and he fought the natural wariness that rose up in response. He’d always maintained he would be completely honest about his financial situation. He might go about wooing like a hunter with his sights on the prey, but no one would be deceived. The woman he chose would know what she was getting into when she accepted him. That was what he had told himself.
“My estate is located in Lancashire, near Manchester,” he replied. “It is not immense, which I must suppose to be a blessing at the moment, for I am in the process of restoring it to solvency.”
The look in her eyes led him to suspect she already knew it. Miles had not thought his situation to be so generally known.
He gave an involuntary laugh and said the first thing that came into his mind. “You must not worry, however. I am not on the hunt for a wealthy wife. I plan to restore it without the help of a dowry.”
As soon as the words were out, his insides froze. He had just dissembled to the point of dishonesty. But before he could modify his claim, she visibly relaxed as though her mind was relieved of one worry—that he would not go on the hunt forher—and he found he could not utter the words to correct what he had just said. His guilty conscience tapped at him. Had he not decided he would be open about his situation?
But then, he actually liked this woman. How could a man openly admit he was on the hunt for a wealthy wife if he was in the early process of trying to charm her? He could not, and must hope that her feelings developed naturally in a way that would forgive any pecuniary considerations that accompanied his pursuit.
Lady Dorothea’s reaction made him aware of his situation’s precariousness as a man whose estate did not pull in any income to speak of. He could not let it circulate that he was hanging about for a rich wife. Besides losing his chances with her, such a thing would be the death of his social prosperity in London. And without invitations, there would be little chance of crossing paths with her or any other eligible lady.
He struggled with how to turn the conversation from there and was thankful that, after his last disclosure, it was she who opened her lips next.
“It is noble of you to attempt to restore your situation without resorting to the age-old ways of men and women.” She smiled at him kindly, expounding, “To try to better your situation by attempting a favorable alliance.”
Miles had lifted his glass to his lips and was in the process of swallowing when her words caused him to breathe in the liquid. It was therefore through bouts of coughing that he managed his reply.
“You are very kind, my lady.”
He looked away and attempted to marshal his thoughts. It was not well done of him to intentionally mislead her. Perhaps this was something he ought to remedy.
But that was something to think about at another time.
Chapter3
Dorothea peeked at Mr. Shaw, then slid her gaze away. She had never met anyone as attractive as he—both in physical appearance and in allure. But what in the world had come over her to share her circumstances so openly with a man she had only just met? First, she had gone on about her father’s death and the subsequent delay to their season, and then she was effusing about how much she loved to dance. Encouraging him over his skills as a dance partner in a way that could only be described as flirting.Flirting!
Dorothea could almost be disgusted with herself for her lack of restraint were it not for the fact that she recognized in Mr. Shaw a man who possessed an unnatural abundance of charm. With his piercing blue eyes settling on her in that expectant way, and his focused smile directed at her as though she were the only woman in the ballroom, such attention was nearly impossible to resist. Her sheltered heart responded to it like a wilting flower whose roots had just been drenched. After all, the only people who paid her any mind at all were family members, and then it was only because they required something from her.
In an effort to break free from Mr. Shaw’s power of attraction, she used the excuse of drinking her lemonade to turn and stare at the other guests. As she thought of her uncharacteristic behavior in Mr. Shaw’s presence, so out of line with her goals for the season, she silently admonished herself with creased brows and firm lips. She should not bestow her affection so cheaply! Had not her first reaction to his invitation been one of dismay, although she credited herself with hiding it? The fact remained that he was simply ineligible.
It had taken very little effort on his part to worm his way in, and she wondered at her ill luck. How could she have come all this way to London seeking a most brilliant match, only to begin her search by being paired for the first dance with a penniless man of no title?
“Lady Dorothea?”
Mr. Shaw interrupted her thoughts, and when she turned, he was holding out his hand for her empty cup. She handed it to him, and he placed it on a tray.
