Page 20 of A Brilliant Match
“Don’t know her. Fresh out? Who’s her family?” Rock’s dark curls fell over a handsome face, and if they had anything in common, it was their thick head of hair of a similar shade. The difference was that Rock’s hair was properly styled and Miles’s stuck up in all directions no matter what he did with it.
“She’s the daughter of the Earl of Poole—or was. He died last year, and now her younger brother has the title. I like her,” he said simply.
“Be careful now, or you will be getting leg-shackled,” Rock said, grinning.
“I am not above that consideration,” he admitted.
Rock’s eyes widened a fraction, then understanding dawned. “Under the hatches again? I suppose it is the most expedient way to settle a failing estate, although I would really have to be desperate to think of such a thing.”
“Yes, I’m under the hatches as usual.” Miles returned the ghost of a smile at his cousin’s remark. “But it is not only for her fortune that I am courting her. I am even questioning whether some of her dowry might not be reserved for any heirs that would issue from such a union, thereby proving I am more noble than she suspects.”
“Whatever for?” Rock was truly perplexed.
“A thing called love, coz. I want it. Won’t settle for less.”
Miles laughed when he saw the look of shock on his cousin’s face. They were so dissimilar, but he could not help but be fond of him. Miles’s mother had married disadvantageously in the eyes of her family, and Rock would not have been blamed for having cut the connection. But he voluntarily sought him out at school. And Miles would always be loyal to him for that.
“Do you love this Lady Dorothea? Lud, what a mouthful. Why couldn’t they have called her Ann?” Rock held a lump of sugar in the coffee, allowing it to soak through before putting it on his tongue. “Perhaps she has a nickname.”
Miles couldn’t imagine Lady Dorothea having a nickname, but it would be fun to give her one. “It is too soon to associate the word love with Lady Dorothea. All I will say is that the possibilities are there, and at the moment I have my sights set only on her.”
“Well, well.Thisis going to be an interesting season,” Rock said. “—or not. Please don’t fall in love in earnest and go about moping over unrequited love or some such thing.”
“Have you ever known me to mope?” Miles retorted, laughing. “I think you need not fear that.”
“Did you tell her your mother is the daughter of an earl?” Rock asked, his look of skepticism showing that he knew Miles all too well.
“I did not, and will thank you for not mentioning it.”
Rock shook his head. “I think you’ve got maggots for brains. If you want to win a lady, you need to use all the tools at your disposal, and your relationship to an earl is one such tool. I’ve always told you this, but you’ve yet to listen.”
“Technically, I have no relationship to the earl, apart from a bloodline, since he cast my mother off and has never made any efforts to meet me. Attempting to win her that way speaks of hypocrisy,” Miles said as he stuffed two slices of ham into a roll.
“You and I are not likely to agree on that subject,” Rock said. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter.”
They spent another half hournottalking about earls or courtship, but exchanging stories of all that had happened since the last time they had seen each other. It had been all of two years, with Miles working on restoring his estate and Rock pursuing all the activities of a gentleman of leisure. At the end of that time, Rock stood.
“Well, I came to see with my own eyes that you had indeed come to London. I will put your name up at the club—and pay the subscription this year,” he added when he saw Miles about to protest the expense. “It’s worth it. London will be vastly more interesting with you here.”
Miles smiled at him. London seemed vastly more friendly now that his cousin had come.
“Just don’t fall in love,” Rock reminded him before leaving.
Chapter9
Dorothea stared up at the ceiling of the opera house, where a round painting of Helios driving his chariot on the clouds of brilliant blues, whites, and yellows met her gaze. She stared across to the opposite side of the stage where there were situated four tiers of boxed seats mirroring those in which she sat. Her father’s box was conveniently placed in the middle, and she certainly hoped their position and youth would pull the regard of more than one set of male eyes. Of course, any interest they inspired must be attributed to Sophia, for the first glances were always for her.
She allowed her gaze to roam over to the pit, then cast her eyes upward to the farthest box seat on the top tier, where Mr. Shaw was leaning negligently, his elbow over the railing and his head leaning on one hand. At that moment, he glanced her way, and when he saw her looking, he sat up straight, smiled at her and nodded his head in acknowledgment.
Dorothea turned her head, piqued at herself. She had allowed her gaze to linger there for too long. It was not that she liked him. It was just that a person’s regard could not help but be drawn to someone they knew in a sea of strangers. After all, she had not seen Lord Hastings or anyone else she recognized from that first ball. They must either have eschewed the opera or were sitting in a box seat on the same side as her.
She had crossed paths with Mr. Shaw twice since their ride in Hyde Park, but both had been brief meetings with no more than a simple greeting. In one, he held the door for her when she was exiting Hookham’s with some novels wrapped in brown paper that she’d hoped would bring her hours of enjoyment. He’d glanced at her books and said with his charismatic smile, “We are on the same mission, I see.” She had only time to nod and move out of the way for a lady who wished to enter.
The second time was at Gunter’s, where she had enjoyed her first strawberry ice in the company of Sophia—and Tilly, who had begged to be allowed to come. The only people of their limited acquaintance they had met there were the Miltons. Afterward, as they gathered in front of the tea shop, waiting for their carriage, Mr. Shaw appeared, engaged in smiling banter with another elegantly attired gentleman. Her heart had stopped, then chugged to life again at the surprise of seeing him. She had to own how well at ease he was for an impoverished gentleman, and how well he carried himself despite that crucial flaw. The other members of thetondid not seem to hold it against him.
On that day, Mr. Shaw took a step forward as soon as he had caught sight of her. He held out his hand to help her to climb into the carriage, and their gazes met as his fingers touched hers. She murmured a thank you and turned away, aware that her cheeks had heated up. As they had moved forward, she peeked at Mr. Shaw, but he was thankfully not looking at her.
He truly was the most disturbing man she’d ever met. He upset her peace every time he looked at her in that piercing way of his or allowed some casual touch between them. And she would not quickly forget the way he had leapt onto the carriage whose horses had bolted. He moved with athletic grace—no, heflewacross to the other carriage—in a way that did nothing to still those little flutters in her stomach whenever she thought of it. What was more, he had trusted her to be able to drive the carriage and calm the horses.
