Page 48 of A Brilliant Match
Tonight’s invitation to Mrs. Matheson’s comfortable salon promised to bring together everyone of fashion for an evening of music. It would not be the young ladies of thetondisplaying their talents which drew the crowds. Famed soprano Mrs. Elizabeth Billington had been invited to sing, and she was the main draw.
Normally, Dorothea would enjoy such a thing. Even if she did not attend for the music, she would go to seele beau mondeand to show herself as part of it. People had always entertained her more than opera. However, this evening she dressed for the musicale with less enthusiasm than she had ever shown. Any ambition or zeal she had once felt in embarking upon her season had dissipated until there was almost no enthusiasm left. She had come to London hoping to make a brilliant match—expecting to—but she was slowly realizing that she had secretly hoped for some of the more tender emotions as well. And what was more, she had completely deceived herself on the matter.
When they arrived at the Mathesons’ house, Lady Poole greeted the hostess then moved over to the seating area so she could choose a comfortable place to sit. Sophia caught Dorothea’s look of displeasure.
“Mama is not comfortable in crowds. You know she is not. I cannot leave her alone.” With a squeeze of Dorothea’s hand, she followed their mother and sat next to her.
Dorothea did know it. Her mother tried to make herself as small as possible when in a room full of people. But that meant that the responsibility for securing their family’s standing in Society was given to Dorothea. Why must she be the only one who made an effort to come to the notice of the fashionable world? It was for their whole family’s sake, so that her sisters might also find eligible husbands.
As for her brother… Well, she supposed Evo would find his way without her help. For one thing, he was an earl and would one day have all the freedom of a gentleman. Little else was needed for him to take his place in Society. For another thing, Evo had a natural aptitude for making friends, even if he had as much of an aptitude for getting into trouble. She conceded he would be fine even without her help, if only she could keep him from falling into serious trouble.
But what about her sisters? Sophia was too shy to speak to anyone. She would more than likely end up single since she could scarcely utter a greeting to a gentleman, much less a “yes” to his gratifying proposal. Or perhaps, some suitor desiring a timid, biddable wife would woo her with persistence enough to win her, but would he be kind to her?
Then there was Camilla, who had no natural gifts at all to attract a suitor. Dorothea was only assessing the matter in an unbiased fashion. She did not wish to be cruel toward her sister, but one had to admit that Camilla’s conversation was not stimulating, and her looks were only just above average. Joanna, she feared, would never learn to employ any of the feminine arts and would likely end up as a bluestocking. Or rather, a horse-mad spinster, because she did not like to read. And Tilly was just as quiet as her mother. Dorothea worried that underneath it all she had nothing to distinguish herself except a pretty face.
Without Dorothea’s help in securing a good match for each of them, her sisters would be doomed to a life of spinsterhood or unhappy marriages. After all, who had guided her mother in her marriage? Why, no one! Her mother had no family to speak of, and although she had secured an earl for a husband, she had been left quite unhappy. Dorothea could not bear to see her sisters in the same position.
This quiet fear had driven her quest from the very beginning, but the pain in her own heart was making it difficult to continue striving for the goal of marrying well. It didn’t help that every time she thought of Miles, she was plunged into a melancholy mood which swept away any desire to flirt. That she thought it unlikely he would be invited to this musicale was the only reason she had decided to come.
Dorothea was spared from having to follow her mother and sister immediately because she spotted Anne, who gave her a small wave. She went over, glad to see a friendly face.
Anne, remarkably well connected, wasted no time in giving her the latest news. “Did you hear that Maryann Stanley has secured an offer from the Duke of Worley?”
“The Duke of Worley?” Dorothea knit her brows, searching her mind until she hit upon the right face. “But is he not nearly in his dotage?” she said in a low voice. For Dorothea, Lord Hastings was as close to elderly as she allowed herself to consider in a husband. She could not imagine marrying a man who was old enough to be her grandfather.
Anne didn’t respond to that, but with a small indication of her chin, murmured, “There is Miss Stanley now.”
Sure enough, Maryann had entered and looked around the room, as if in expectation of receiving the acclaim that should be sent her way for having made such a brilliant conquest. As a duchess, she would take precedence everywhere and certainly lead Society.
“I can hardly believe it,” Dorothea whispered back. “That she would accept him when he cannot make a comfortable husband. To do so just to secure a position…” She paused, adding, “And thathewould propose to her when she is not likely to be faithful.”
Dorothea stopped, flooded with other thoughts she could not articulate. That she was critiquing another woman for making a match much in the same way she, herself, had been attempting; that a duke had proposed to Maryann, who had nothing in the way of a title in her family line; that the whole affair felt less like something to be admired and more like something to be deplored. The proposal Miles had offered her, dishonest as she later learned it was, seemed to have more value. His, at least, was delivered with some degree of emotion.
Anne turned to her with a keen look. “Do you think she will not be faithful, then?”
“Oh…” She should not have spoken that out loud. Dorothea would not spread gossip no matter how little she liked Maryann. “I beg you will not mind me. I have no idea what she is likely to do. It is true we became a little close, but quickly found we had not much in common and went our separate ways.”
Maryann settled her gaze on Dorothea and Anne, and after a moment’s speculative pause, walked over to them. “What a pleasure to see you tonight, Dorothea. And you, Miss Kensington. I am sure you have heard my happy news. I am to be the next Duchess of Worley.”
“We did indeed.” Dorothea attempted to give her a true smile. “I offer you my congratulations and wishes for every felicity in your marriage.”
“As someone who will outrank you,” Maryann continued sweetly, “I will be happy to assist you in any way you might need to find a suitable husband. I understand it is taking a little longer than you might have hoped?”
When Dorothea only gave her a bland smile in response, she turned to Anne. “And you, Miss Kensington. You may count on me as well.”
“You are too kind,” Anne replied with a gracious nod, then went silent until Maryann saw she would receive no more adulation and went off to find a more worshipful audience.
Anne sent Dorothea an amused look. “Ah, my dear. You are surprised, but that is the way Society works. The gentlemen scheme to find a woman who will look good on their arms. The ladies scheme to find a gentleman whose title will grant them prestige. It is all very tiresome, and that is why I do not wish to marry.”
Dorothea darted an uncertain look her way. She could not dispute what Anne had said, nor did she wish to tell her how close she had come to putting her finger on Dorothea’s own situation. “Mrs. Billington is coming to take her place. Shall we sit?”
She had never been gladder for an evening that required listening rather than conversation. She was so troubled by the awareness of her gradual shift in priorities, and what that might mean for her future, she could not have spoken two interesting words if she’d tried.
* * *
The next day,Dorothea went to sit in the drawing room before calling hours. She still went there early to see that all was in order and to have some time to compose herself before receiving company. She and Sophia had fallen into a rhythm where they stayed home three days out of the week and went out calling the other three. Sunday was the day to attend St. George’s Hanover Square and listen to the sermon. The idea of entertaining morning callers no longer made her nervous, and their drawing room was always filled with a respectable number of people.
A knock sounded on the front door. Goodness! They were starting early this afternoon, and she had not yet spoken to Cook. Dorothea sat up in anticipation as their butler opened the door.
