Page 30 of A Brilliant Match
“I am finished.”
He turned and held out his hand to assist her to rise, but for a brief instant she was too frozen to take it. The warmth of his proximity brought home the intimacy of the moment and how vulnerable it was to be in his presence. She looked up at him reluctantly, and he smiled, his eyes crinkling, oblivious to her warring internal thoughts.
She placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her up. He did so, pulling her with enough strength so that he had to place a hand on her arm to keep her from stumbling into his chest. She looked up at him, startled as he froze in place, his eyes wide.
“Thank you,” she said, turning to break the spell. She cleared her throat very quietly. They had been so close. If she had not turned away, what would he have done? This occupied her mind as she moved forward.
After a couple of steps, he held out his arm. She slipped her hand around it and subtly breathed in whatever it was that made him smell so good. They directed their steps back to the street, but his steps were slow, as though he was in no hurry to leave the green haven in which they found themselves.
He cleared his throat. “Dorothea.”
She shot him a look of surprise at his intimate use of her name, but found she liked it on his lips too much to protest. He amended it nevertheless.
“Forgive me—I mean to say, my lady. I wished to tell you how glad I was to see you today. I have… I’ve been hoping for a sight of you these three days past, if you must know. In fact”—he glanced at her almost nervously, which caused her pulse to race—“I could not help but look for you everywhere I went and endured no small frustration that our paths never seemed to cross.”
Dorothea breathed out, her heart beating a wild flutter to hear him all but admit to having atendrefor her.
This would not do. It would not do! She must not allow him to go on.
“I don’t know what you would have me say to that.” The words were out, and it felt an eternity before they had a response.
“Say you will align your path to mine.” It seemed to her that he swallowed hard.
She slowed her steps and met his gaze, forcing her expression to show an unyielding front she did not feel. Perhaps he would not force her to the point.Please, please, do not ask me what I fear you will.
“What exactly are you asking of me, Mr. Shaw?”
He pulled her to a stop and turned to face her as close as when he had all but pulled her into his arms. He settled his blue eyes on her and she had only to tilt her head up a very little bit to meet them. In his gaze she saw uncertainty and nervousness.
“I am asking you to accept my proposal of marriage. Allow me to express—”
No, no, no!Dorothea wrenched her arm away, turned and marched forward, forcing him to hurry at her side. She set a pace that would not allow him to speak to her, and he did not attempt it as he strode with her.
They exited the park and were on the street, but her house was still another block away. An entire block in which she had to suffer from the discomfort of refusing a man she liked all too well. But she had to put an end to this now and somehow make it to the safety of her room where she could attempt to still the whirlwind of emotions that had stirred in her breast. If only her voice could be steady when she spoke.
“I am most sensible of the honor you do me in offering your hand in marriage,” she said, her voice even but breathless. She refused to look at him, continuing to walk at as rapid a pace as she could without exciting any curious glances. It was torture. Wishing to put as much distance as she could behind them before the final knell tolled, she marched on. Eventually, she could not continue to keep him in suspense, even if they had not quite reached her house.
“I am sorry, but I cannot accept it, Mr. Shaw.”
“No?” His voice cracked on the word, which made her feel more guilty than anything else. It felt odd to be so far from him when she had grown used to taking his arm. When he spoke again, his soft tone almost broke her remaining will.
“I understand that in my eagerness I have rushed my suit. Can you give me any hope at all of changing your mind?”
Their house was now in sight at last, and Dorothea’s steps drew quicker to her destination. She refrained from answering him until they had arrived at the bottom of the stairs.
“I am afraid I cannot give you any hope.” She turned and held her hand out to him. “My answer is final, Mr. Shaw.”
There was a look she could not entirely decipher, something else in addition to the hurt and disappointment it contained, as Mr. Shaw bowed over her hand.
“Well, then, I must bid you good day, Lady Dorothea.” He had reverted back to her title, and when he lifted his head, there was none of the playful charm she was used to seeing.
“Good day,” she replied softly, wondering if she would see it again.
Hesitating only an instant, she hurried inside, gulping back an inexplicable desire to cry. She had most certainly made the right decision to refuse his offer of marriage. Even though she didn’t think he had proposed because he was in need of funds—she trusted his assurance that he was not looking to marry for wealth—the fact remained that he was impoverished. And besides that, he could do nothing to elevate her position in Society. He would not be instrumental in bringing her sisters into fashion. There was nothing that recommended him to her.
Nothing except attraction and feelings, and those were fickle things, were they not?
Inside, she gave a tight smile to Turton as she walked past him. Noises filtering down from the stairwell indicated the presence of more than one of her siblings upstairs. It would be impossible for her to meet them with any semblance of placidity, and she would not reach her bedroom without having one of them spot her and require something of her. She turned instead into the drawing room and inside found blessed silence at last.
