Page 16 of A Brilliant Match
Mr. Shaw gestured discreetly with his gloved hand, out of sight of the public. “That is the celebrated Miss Stanley that Lady Milton had spoken of.”
Dorothea followed the direction of his gaze with great curiosity. Miss Stanley rode an impressive mount, and she was flanked by a gentleman on either side of her. Petite, with sparkly eyes and a chin that came to a dainty point, whatever Miss Stanley lacked in title and position, she made up for in vivacity and a most charming countenance. Dorothea was certain she must be related to the gentleman her father had been corresponding with. If she was accepted by theton, she might prove to be a valuable asset. There was certainly no shortage of eligible bachelors in Miss Stanley’s orbit.
“It is no wonder you were exhausted the next day,” Mr. Shaw said, picking up the thread of their conversation. “To have traveled all day, then danced all night. Not many women could be so stout.”
She wasn’t sure if she appreciated being called stout. But after a brief consideration, she decided not to take offense. It was true, after all. She’d rather be known for her industry than her fainting spells.
“Perhaps not many could, but I must own myself to have been mistaken in my own strength, for it was my sister who was able to face the following day without suffering in any outward way from the exertion.”
Lost in observing the other riders in the park, she did not notice that the blanket had slipped from her lap. Without stopping his horses in their sedate walk on the path, Mr. Shaw leaned across her, brushing his arm against her knee as he pulled the blanket back up around her. She was scarcely given time to register the accidental touch when he was back in his seat, except that her breath hitched against her will.
“You are looking very well today, Lady Dorothea,” he said, glancing at her and drawing her eyes back to him.
When their eyes met, something flipped inside her belly. That same sensation of sparks igniting caught her off guard.What in heaven’s name…?Simply because he had pulled a blanket around her and offered a benign compliment. She could not be having any sort of feelings for this man for such reasons. That would be ridiculous beyond permission.
“You are kind, sir.” She broke the gaze, turning her attention back to the scene around her.
The ladies and gentlemen riding on horseback or in carriages stopped to greet each other, and she wished she might be acquainted with some of them. How could her father have been so neglectful as to have kept the entire family from visiting London more than once a decade? And why had her mother not insisted they go? Now they were thrown into Society as to the wolves, and with barely any acquaintances.
“Do you have family in London?” she asked when she realized he was waiting for her to contribute her mite to the conversation. At least he was not content to spout off knowledge and bore one to death without allowing for natural silences to develop. But it meant she would have to keep at least part of her attention for him.
“I do,” he said, which caused her a momentary pause. He seemed to her to be more of a solitary figure who sprang up out of nowhere with no family or connections. Although, if that were the case, he would never have been invited to Lady Berkley’s ball—or have been able to borrow a carriage from his brother-in-law.
“My sister and her husband are in London at present,” he said. “My mother is at our home in Lancashire but will likely join us later in the season. And you? Are all of your siblings in London now?”
“Yes, along with the governess,” she said. “We are not in the habit of residing in London even for part of the year, so this is novel for all of us.”
Mr. Shaw allowed his horses to keep a steady pace down Rotten Row and did not seem at all flustered by the necessity to swerve around carriages as their drivers stopped to talk. Neither did he look for acquaintances of his own. But perhaps he did not have any. In fact, he seemed perfectly content to speak to her as though she were the only person who existed.
“Miles!”
The sound came from a gentleman on horseback headed in the opposite direction. He cut across to the carriage, and Mr. Shaw slowed down to greet him. The gentleman leaned over to shake Mr. Shaw’s hand.
“I’m glad to see you, Gerry.” Mr. Shaw glanced at her, including her with his broad smile. “Lady Dorothea, may I present a good friend of mine? This is Mr. Gerald Wilmot.”
After they had exchanged greetings, Mr. Shaw glanced to the side, where a carriage was forced to pause. “I believe we are blocking others. Can you send your address to Limmer’s where I’m staying? I’ll come and find you.”
“Will do.” Mr. Wilmot tipped his hat to Dorothea. “Good day, my lady.”
Dorothea was impressed with Mr. Shaw’s friend, but she reserved her judgment. He might be of the merchant class, although he did not appear to be. She knew she had inherited her father’s disdain for those outside of the peerage, but she could not be too careful with whom she associated when she was so newly in London. He clicked the reins and let the carriage move forward in silence, which she did not break. Any hopes Mr. Shaw might volunteer details of how he knew his friend were in vain.
“You were saying you were not in the habit of coming to London?” He had not lost track of what they had been speaking of before he saw Mr. Wilmot, and she did not feel she could direct the subject of their conversation back to his friend. What was more, she was not sure she had ever met someone who actually seemed interested in what she had to say, when he added, “Surely your father did not remain at home all season? Unless he was particularly devoted to his family.” Mr. Shaw let the statement dangle.
Dorothea laughed. “My father, devoted to his family? Goodness no.” She stopped short, realizing she had revealed more of her family’s weaknesses than she had intended. “He spent every season in London.”
Mr. Shaw compressed his brow as though he found something to censure in the statement, but he did not pursue it.
Dorothea glanced ahead. “There is Lady Berkley. Shall we go and greet her?” Mr. Shaw murmured an assent, and steered the carriage in that direction.
At last, here was someone she knew. But she could hardly qualify it as a success. Lady Berkley would assume that her introduction was the beginnings of a courtship and would congratulate herself on having been the one to provide it. But she could not ignore the only person in the entirety of Hyde Park who was known to her. Why had she accepted Mr. Shaw’s invitation to ride today?
It was beginning to feel as though Dorothea was swept along by the tide to a place she did not wish to go, and she had been given no rudder so she might right her path.
Chapter8
Miles directed his carriage over to Lady Berkley to oblige Lady Dorothea, combatting the selfish impulse to keep her all to himself. She was surprisingly difficult to pull out of her shell, and despite plying her with all the charm at his disposal, he didn’t seem to make any headway.
It was not that she was unfriendly. She answered every question he had in a natural way. It was just that her expression remained closed most of the time. That might simply be her natural reserve, but he had seen glimpses of something much warmer—particularly when he had leaned over to restore the blanket to her. The look she gave him was wide-eyed and far from the cool reserve she usually wore. He had to force himself to look away.
