Page 10 of A Brilliant Match
Slightly disheartened, she considered taking to her room but feared that if she did so, she would inevitably fall asleep and appear in front of their guests with lines on her face. It would be preferable to suffer an hour of discomfort rather than that.
When Sophia finally joined her in the drawing room, promising that their mother would soon follow, Dorothea was feeling very much the worse for wear. And the pitying looks her sister shot her let her know shelookedvery much the worse for wear as well. There was little conversation as both were tired. Dorothea noted the continual absence of their mother but was too weary to go in search of her, especially since there was at the moment no need to do so. In the second hour of sitting—at last—the first knock on the front door sounded through the entryway.
She sat up straight, her heart beating painfully. Her season should not be like this. It should be filled with visitors and laughter and flirting—with the right gentlemen, of course. There should be no headaches, or empty drawing rooms, or absence of floral arrangements with little cards tucked into them. It was humiliating!
“Where is Mother?” she hissed as the sound of their guest’s entrance reached her.
“I will go and fetch her,” Sophia said before Dorothea could protest at being left alone.
Her sister did not have time to open the door, for it opened on its own and was followed by their brother slipping through and closing the door behind him.
“I’ve come to lend you countenance, sister,” he said, his expression far too innocent.
Dorothea’s head gave a particularly painful throb, and she could not give him the fine trimming she longed to, not when Turton’s footsteps were already sounding in approach. The door to the drawing room opened again.
“Mr. Shaw to see you, my lady.”
Chapter5
Miles entered Lady Dorothea’s drawing room, struck first by the grand size of it and then by its emptiness, save for her sister and a stripling of a boy. He tucked the flower arrangement he had brought into the crook of his arm and bowed, as the two ladies curtsied.
“Mr. Shaw, you know my sister,” Lady Dorothea said, her eyes flicking to the flowers he’d brought. “May I present my brother, the Earl of Poole.”
He handed his flower arrangement to Lady Dorothea, which contained carefully selected freesias, violets, and ferns. If he was going to begin a proper suit, he needed to start well and hoped she would read the message he intended to send her in his choice of flowers.
“These are for you, my lady.”
Without waiting for her response for fear of forcing a reaction, he turned to her sister and brother. “How do you do, Lady Sophia? A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord.”
Miles’s gaze rested on Lord Poole and stayed there. His frame was still small and slender, showing him to be not yet on the cusp of manhood. His facial features were elegant and as yet absent of any whiskers on that obstinate chin so similar to his eldest sister’s. The young earl’s eyes held a hint of mischief as he gave Miles a measuring stare. Then, he turned and shot a wicked glance at his sister before returning the bow.
“And I you, Mr. Shaw. As the head of the family, you will naturally be addressing any discourse to me.” He slipped his hand into his waistcoat, underneath his small twist of a cravat. “And should you aspire to the hand of one of my sisters, you will not find me unreasonable.”
“Evo!”
“Everard!”
Miles’s laugh turned into a cough as Lady Sophia slipped her arm through her brother’s and led him unceremoniously out of the drawing room, leaving the room empty but for him and Lady Dorothea. She turned to set the flowers on the side table, but not before he caught her dipping her nose into the freesias and inhaling.So she likes flowers, does she?
The gesture also partially hid her face. Last night, her complexion had been a beautifully even tone, despite the vigor of the dance, but it was now flushed a shade he had not thought possible of her. Given her embarrassment, he would not mention her brother’s impertinence.
He had hardly expected to find her drawing room empty of guests, much less find her completely alone. In fact, it was odd that no one else was here. He had expected to have to tussle with other suitors, and even women callers, in order to coax another glimpse of that tightly veiled personality he’d been witness to last night.
“Mr. Shaw, will you sit?” she asked, her smile strained.
Any musings on the luck of finding her alone vanished when he studied her more closely. She was as lovely as always, but the fine lines about her eyes gave evidence to her fatigue and let him know this visit must be more of a trial to her than a pleasure. Her eyes seemed smaller somehow than they had last night. He wondered if it would be too cruel to remain when she was clearly feeling under the weather. But he had come all this way and might not have another such moment to claim her undivided attention.
He narrowed his brows. “Please allow me to ask how you are faring, my lady?”
“I am very well, I thank you. Did you enjoy the rest of the ball last evening?” Every word was spoken in a low, carefully chosen tone, and he was not deceived by her assurance.
“You appear to be suffering from a headache, I believe? It is not that you look anything other than…perfect…” That much was true, despite how obvious her discomfort. “But you seem not to be yourself this afternoon, and I wondered…”
He fell silent. This was an unusual approach for him when engaging in any sort of flirtation. He rarely touched any topic but the most superficial, finding that most ladies appreciated the light banter. Either his honesty would backfire, or she would welcome it and open up in return.
After a quick glance his way, she trained her eyes at some distant point in the room. It gave him a chance to enjoy her profile with its high sculpted cheekbones, straight nose, and full lips.
“You are correct, sir. I believe the combination of the journey and last night’s ball has fatigued me, and my head pains me a very little today.” She attempted a smile, which he was sure must have cost her.
