Page 31 of A Brilliant Match
Dorothea crossed over to the chairs in the middle of the room and sat. After a moment, with only the company of the ticking clock and the muffled sounds of household noise in the rest of the house, she untied the ribbons to her bonnet and laid it beside her. Then, she removed her gloves and set them on top of the bonnet and leaned back to think.
Mr. Shaw had been disappointed, and she hadn’t calculated how much it would hurt her to have to disappoint him. His eyes had lost all signs of their humorous sparkle, and his face became somber. In his own gentlemanly way, he’d attempted to have her reconsider, but he did not insist.
She had done right to refuse, so why did it feel like she had made a mistake?
No. Mr. Shaw would go on to marry another woman who was more suited to him, and she would marry a peer. It did not matter that she liked how she felt around Miles—that she’d wondered what it would be like if he had sat on the stone bench beside her and leaned over to kiss her…Kissing him must be nice.He was the first man to inspire her with a desire to try it.
The door opened, interrupting her moment of quiet, and she forced a smile as she greeted her mother.
“I am glad to see you’ve made it back. Was Mr. Shaw all that was proper when he escorted you home?” Lady Poole came over and sat on a chair near Dorothea.
“Yes, Mama,” she replied, surprised that their mother cared enough to ask about such a thing. She had never voiced any concerns over Dorothea’s protection, and she’d almost thought she had none.
Yes, Mr. Shaw had been all that was proper. His proposal had been properly delivered and his rejection properly received.
“Well, I am glad. I did not like to leave you, but I was too fatigued to wait.”
Her mother leaned her head back on the sofa, and for the first time Dorothea wondered if she had cause to be fatigued. She had always taken it for granted that it was in her mother’s nature to complain or to try to escape doing anything that required her to exert herself. But theirs was not a relationship to ask such a question, so she kept silent. It was unusual for her mother to sit beside her and not seek the quiet of her own room, but stay she did. And just when Dorothea needed her privacy the most.
A knock resounded on the front door, and Dorothea’s heart performed a somersault despite herself. Could it be Mr. Shaw returning? Would he sit her down and insist that she listen to his suit?Would he sweep her into his arms?She felt wretched enough over having said no that she was almost tempted to reconsider. If he did come—
The door opened and Turton entered.
“Lord Hastings.”
Dorothea’s heart plunged in dismay. Of all the people she did not want to see at that instant, it was Lord Hastings. Carrying on a conversation with him was like pulling teeth. Each word was wrenched out of him painfully, after what seemed like an interminable wait.
Her mother stood, and Dorothea followed suit, attempting to bring her expression into that neutrality she had so often practiced.
“Lord Hastings, welcome,” her mother greeted.
Dorothea forced a smile to her lips as she dipped into a curtsy.
He bowed before both and sent an uneasy glance at Lady Poole before clearing his throat. “I had hoped to have a private word with Lady Dorothea if I may.”
Lady Poole’s face registered understanding, and after glancing at her daughter, she nodded.
“Of course, my lord. My daughter is old enough that she may speak for herself in answer to anything of a confidential nature.”
Don’t leave, Dorothea thought desperately, but her gaze followed her mother out of the room. Then she was alone with Lord Hastings. The moment had come for her to receive what she had always wanted. Before having met Mr. Shaw, she would have been crowing with victory at this moment for it could only mean one thing.
“Will you not sit?” she asked him, and took her own seat so he might take his.
He folded his hands together comfortably, absent of any of the nervousness that Mr. Shaw had seemed to exude. It came as something of a disappointment. His would not be an expression of ardor.
Allow me to express…
“My lady, I think you can have no doubt about why I am here today.” There was a lack of questioning in his voice but he looked to her for confirmation. She nodded.
“Allow me then to come to the point without delay. I wish to offer you marriage. As Lady Hastings, you will be comfortably situated at my estate and will have a small but delightful society at your disposal there. I confess that I do not spend a great deal of time in London, but your encouragement has led me to believe this is not something you would object to. May I assure you that I am in a position to offer you every comfort you might wish for.”
How had she led him to believe she would be happy living in Northumberland?
His speech done, he met her regard. “What answer, then, would you give to my proposal, my lady?”
Dorothea felt cold inside. He hadn’t even attempted to take her hand or say her name the way Miles did. This was what she was supposed to want, but she didn’t want it at all. And it was not just because he had whisked away any hopes she might have of taking an elevated place in London society. It was that he had laid everything out in clinical terms.
Mr. Shaw had not been consumed by passion either—he had not permitted himself a single liberty. But he had stirred something in her. He had provoked in her a desire to say yes, even if her reason forbade it. She could not say the same for Lord Hastings.
