Page 26 of A Brilliant Match
“Of course I remember you,” Dorothea rushed to assure her. “It was only that I couldn’t recall your name.” She strove to recover from her lapse in memory by engaging her in conversation. “I see that my sister has gone back to my mother’s side. May I introduce you to her?”
“Please,” Miss Kensington said with a smile. “I am not very fond of dancing and would prefer conversation.”
“Oh, not I,” Dorothea replied, smiling. “I could never grow tired of dancing.”
She brought Miss Kensington over to Sophia and her mother and presented her to them. Her mother responded to her curtsy with a nod and some murmured greeting. Her sister curtsied as well and whispered something unintelligible.
Dorothea was disappointed by the colorless reaction of her mother and the shy one of her sister, but she endeavored to draw Sophia in nevertheless. It would do her good to have more acquaintances. After several attempts to include her sister, and even her mother, in their conversation, she gave it up. She and Miss Kensington drifted toward a more intimate conversation between the two of them.
Dorothea learned that Anne had grown up in Essex, the second child of five, four of whom were still alive. Although her mother had married an impoverished gentleman, their family had always been a happy one—made even happier when in a tremendous reversal of fortune, a spinster great-aunt left her entire fortune to Anne’s father. This led her to embark upon a season under her godmother’s wing without feeling like an encumbrance.
In their short conversation, it did not take long for Dorothea to feel an affinity for her in a way she had not with Maryann. It prompted her to propose they use Christian names, to which Anne instantly agreed.
As the break drew to an end, with the musicians settling into their seats, Dorothea spotted Mr. Shaw walking toward the two of them with what she thought—hoped—was determination to dance with her. He looked too focused to have idle intentions. Again, her mind went to what she had overheard. Surely, his heart could not have been caught by Bernice. She should not care—she knew it. But everything felt wrong about his marrying her.
Before she could summon a measure of good sense, her heart gave a wild thump at the sight of him walking toward her. And it did not cease to thump when he stopped in front of her with that smile of his that was so impossible to resist.
“Lady Dorothea, good evening. And, if I am not mistaken, it is Miss Kensington?” He lifted an inquiring brow as she confirmed it. “I was wondering—”
His words were interrupted by the untimely arrival of Lord Hastings. Dorothea should have been deeply gratified. After all, Lord Hastings had sought her out to tell her—in a way she could only consider to be significant—that he had postponed his journey and would be in London for an indeterminate length of time. And he had requested this second set so close upon the heels of the first. But his presence fell flat next to Mr. Shaw’s. His lacked the spark that Mr. Shaw seemed to elicit in her without trying.
She clamped down on the unreasonable turn of her thoughts and gave Lord Hastings her most welcoming smile. “Is it time for our dance again? I am quite ready.”
She nodded to Anne and Mr. Shaw before stepping away at his side. And if she could congratulate herself on her will of steel in pursuing her course to marry a man worthy of her position, she could not quite keep herself from casting longing glances at Mr. Shaw as he danced with her new friend, drawing from her all the smiling rejoinders Dorothea could hope for—if she’d wished for Anne to attract a suitor who must be so beneath her station.
Throughout the rest of the evening, Dorothea passed from one partner to the next. Nearly every invitation had been someone Maryann had introduced her to, and she delighted in presenting her as Lady Dorothea, and then addressing her quite pointedly as Dorothea to show the intimacy of their connection. It had, at least, the desired effect of giving Dorothea a slew of suitors who had begun to show her the attention she longed for—an attention she felt was her due as an earl’s daughter. If only Mr. Shaw’s words had not stuck with her and caused her to doubt her quest. He had said her worth as a friend, and she supposed, as a prospective wife, did not depend upon her status and title. The unspoken part must be that a gentleman’s worth did not depend on that either. Perhaps that was true…but it could hardly be a factor in matrimonial considerations.
Her only unclaimed dance was the last one, and she was mulling over Mr. Shaw’s words again when the man himself appeared before her. It took every ounce of her strength not to show him how glad she was to see him. As a result, she gave only the tightest smile.
He appeared not to notice her reserve. “Please tell me this dance is unclaimed, for it is the last one, you know.”
She shook her head and softened when she looked at him. She could not help it. There was something trustworthy in him that seemed to be missing in all the court the other gentlemen paid. With them it was pretty compliments meant to please, but which felt empty when heaped on. Or it was polite conversation that did not stimulate her in the slightest. But Mr. Shaw seemed to come to life before her whenever she appeared.
“My dance is still free,” she replied.
His answering smile set her heart beating again.
“Come, before there is no more room for us. If the Answorths had not suggested a closing hour for their ball, we would still be here until the sun came up, I believe. As it is, we must make haste.”
Mr. Shaw led her to the floor, and they took their places for the dance called the Hole in the Wall. She remembered once again how much she loved dancing with Miles Shaw. Although it was a line dance, her heart bubbled with happiness when she turned around him and met his gaze as they turned back. It seemed that she floated at his side rather than danced. And when their hands joined, it sent a shock through her arm each time. When their eyes met, he smiled at her in an intimate way he did not reserve for others.
Time spent reflecting on this as they danced brought her clarity at last. When she was with him, she feltseen. She was not another face to him. She was Dorothea. And that was something she had never known before.
Oh, heavens. She would truly have to guard her heart.
Chapter11
Miles walked along Bond Street, tipping his hat to the few acquaintances whose paths he crossed. It was an effort for him to wear his usual carefree look. The smiles cost him, for he had just received the most unwelcome letter from his mother. In it, she stated that the entire roof of their rambling house had caved in. The worst of the disaster had thankfully occurred in the guest wing, she wrote, but even in her bedroom she had needed to place a dish to catch the drips from the melting snow that had seeped through from the attic above her. And if he’d harbored a secret hope that perhaps his mother might have overstated the case, he was quickly disabused of the notion upon opening his steward’s letter, which listed in greater detail the extent of the damage and the estimated cost to repair it. It was not an amount his scant coffers could cover. Not by any stretch.
He had seen Lady Dorothea at times since the Answorth ball, but they had not been given a chance for a deeper connection. At one point, they crossed paths in Hyde Park, but she had been riding with her groom and he was on foot, which made a prolonged conversation impossible. On another occasion, they’d met at a musicalsoirée, and he was almost certain her gaze had followed him as he went to greet the hostess. But when he went to greet her, she was already seated, with Lord Hastings beside her. The sight of them together once again had almost induced him to give up his suit. How could he compete with Lord Hastings?
But then they met at the theater the next night and had a brief exchange during the intermission before they were interrupted. He’d felt the strong tug of attraction that was always between them and suspected she felt it too. She froze as he drew near, her lovely eyes widening at the sight of him and her cheeks growing pink.
With his downturn in fortune, it would behoove him to set about wooing Lady Dorothea on an accelerated path. He knew this. It made perfect sense. But he felt increasing hesitation over the idea. She would never believe that he liked her for herself when he needed her dowry this badly. If at one time he’d had the noble idea to offer for her without touching her dowry, that hope was now as futile as a puff of smoke. He was forced into a position of needing her portion more than ever.
He could try his suit elsewhere, Miles reasoned. There was no need for him to marry into the peerage, he argued to himself. Especially since he strongly suspected his absence of a title would be a stumbling block to her accepting the offer of his hand. It should be a simple matter to turn his attention to an heiress who was less…discerning. It would certainly bring the matter to a successful resolution more quickly.
Miles transformed his expression of furrowed brows into a smile as he lifted his hat to a passing matron he knew. As soon as she walked by, a frown settled back on his features. He liked Lady Dorothea too well to give another woman a thought. He liked the tiny glimpses beyond her façade she’d afforded him. They were by turns vulnerable, playful, and intrepid. She was capable—an incredible woman, really—and yet she seemed to open up to him in a way she did not with other men. Surely she was not indifferent to him. But was non-indifference enough?
