Page 37 of A Brilliant Match
“I am afraid you must not say such things in my presence. I am attached to Anne and don’t wish to hear ill of her.”
Maryann slipped her arm through Dorothea’s. “Oh no, I don’t mean anything by it. But have you heard the news about Mr. Shaw? The grandson of an earl! I could never have guessed such a thing. I had been at pains to discourage his attention, but now you may be sure I shall do no such thing.”
“Why had you discouraged him?” Dorothea asked, a funny buzzing beginning in her head.
“Why, the man has not a farthing to his name. My father warned me about him.”
Maryann directed Dorothea’s gaze to a man on the far side of the room with a florid complexion. He appeared to be deep in conversation with an attractive woman well out of her first blush of youth. His eyes were firmly fixed below her face.
“Papa has come tonight, as he does not trust my Aunt Florence to find me a suitable husband. He detests these social gatherings.”
“You said once that your father knew mine,” Dorothea said. She had not dared to ask before, and she supposed it was from an odd fear of what she might find out. Tonight, she was feeling reckless. “In what capacity?”
“Oh, you know gentlemen.” Maryann’s eyes flitted about the room as though in search of a more interesting companion than Dorothea. “You know what sorts of things interest them. I believe they frequented the gaming clubs together, as well as establishments with women of low repute. The two of them were quite favorites there, I assure you.”
Dorothea’s eyes went wide, and she couldn’t stop the heat from stealing into her cheeks. “Maryann, I am surprised you know of such things, much less will speak of them—and of your own father, as well.”
Maryann darted a surprised look at her. “Oh, are you shocked? I had not taken you to be quite such a… Quite so particular. Your father certainly wasn’t.”
She dropped her fan to her side and looked at Dorothea as though explaining something to a child.
“Why, this is the way all of Society acts, although I suppose you are being wise in pretending to know nothing of it. One must feign ignorance until one is married. However”—she lifted her lips in a smirk—“once one is married, one might not only admit to knowing things, one might also be more free in the company she frequents.” Her knowing smile left no doubt in Dorothea’s mind as to what she meant.
She had heard of occasions when even women were unfaithful to their vows, but she suffered a shock to hear it spoken of so openly. And this from a girl who was no older than she was herself. Her father’s infidelity was also the greatest reproach she’d had against the late earl.
She knew she should not be so transparent but could not seem to help herself when she asked, “And you—did you know my father?”
Maryann sent her a saucy look. “Of course I did. He was not above flirting with me, although he was an earl, and my father a mere gentleman. Papa invited me to his dinners whenever it suited him, because he said I made everything much more interesting for his guests. I suppose he did not raise me in the usual way, but I do not care.”
She shrugged. “My father is accepted everywhere in Society, and he sets no store by walking the straight and narrow, as he calls it.”
Dorothea began to feel ill. “I cannot listen to this. You will please excuse me,” she said, turning away.
“What?” Maryann whispered in a sharp tone, stopping Dorothea in her tracks. Against her judgment, she turned.
“You think to judge me, but you had better think twice. It matters not that you are the daughter of a peer if your own father did not bring you into Society. Lord Poole cannot have cared about your place in it if he did not trouble to bring you to London. But he spent plenty of his evenings at our house when he was here.”
Dorothea turned and walked away—disappointment and hurt leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. It would be impossible to leave Almack’s this early without raising conjecture, even though all she could think about was the sanctity of her bedroom. But Sophia was dancing, and her mother was still in conversation with Lady Milton. And Miles, of course, was dancing with Anne.
She found a seat near the wall and held herself rigidly upright, her hands placed in a deceptively casual position on her lap. She might not be able to remove the flush from her cheeks, but shecouldrefrain from crying or giving Maryann the satisfaction of thinking she had any power by running out of the room.
The rest of the set was the most miserable stretch of time Dorothea remembered enduring. A few gentlemen walked by but none of them knew her or seemed to look at her twice. Young ladies walking arm in arm sent her a pitying glance. To be sitting quite alone was the pinnacle of wretchedness.
What Maryann had said about her father was true. He could not have cared about her at all. She knew deep in her heart he had not.
She swallowed and lifted her chin a notch. Miles and Anne talked together in between sets and looked completely at ease, as though they belonged together. Anne would surely fall under his spell. Who could not? And even if Miles did not end up seeing Anne for the woman of worth she was, Maryann had now set her designs on him. Dorothea could see that a woman like Maryann would be difficult for a warm-blooded male to resist if she decided to turn her full attention on him. There was a fullness to her that men must be particularly drawn to. And of course, her victim would not discover her true nature or suspect that she might play him false until it was too late.
If only Dorothea could warn Miles about this. She glanced at him as he led Anne back onto the floor for a second dance. No. It was impossible. She had lost her chance to do that. Had lost all claims to anything more intimate than friendly acquaintances when she turned down his offer of marriage.
It was beginning to become more difficult to remember why she had.
Chapter15
By the time Miles wished to ask Dorothea to dance, he could no longer find her. He had meant to do so right after asking Miss Kensington, and the only reason he hadn’t asked her first was to save his pride. But when he led Miss Kensington back to Lady Berkley, she then introduced him to a young maiden who had only been solicited once, and of course Miles had to do the honorable thing and stand up with her. He had already given the two dances after that away, so by the time he was ready to ask Dorothea, she and Lady Sophia were gone.
Miles hired a hackney to take him back to the hotel. It would be foolish to walk as parts of the path back to his rooms were subject to footpads. He sank into the squabs and thought about Dorothea as the carriage drove him over the rough road. He had seen a stricken look in her eyes when he turned to Miss Kensington first, and that was what he could not get out of his mind.
This was also how he knew he still harbored feelings for her. He could not yet say if those feelings were love. How could he, when she was so reserved with him? His feelings were only based on what he suspected was there, and that was all he had to go on. Perhaps they also sprang from the desire to see her come out of her shell, and to know she had done so at his coaxing.
