Page 17 of A Brilliant Match
Lady Berkley’s carriage had been surrounded by two gentlemen on horseback plus a phaeton driven by a third gentleman. As they neared, the small party broke up with friendly adieux.
“Good afternoon, my lady,” Miles greeted as they pulled up beside Lady Berkley’s carriage. Next to her was a comely young woman he had not seen before, which likely explained the line of gentlemen who had stopped to make conversation.
“Mr. Shaw and Lady Dorothea.” Lady Berkley positively beamed at them. “I am so pleased that my introduction has led to you furthering your acquaintance. May I present my goddaughter, Miss Kensington? This is her second season, and she is staying with me. It is unfortunate she did not arrive in time for my ball, which was supposed to be in her honor.”
“Good afternoon, my lady. Mr. Shaw.” Miss Kensington smiled. “Yes, Lady Berkley wished to throw me another come-out ball since I did nottakelast year.”
She shot her godmother a look of affectionate mischief. Lady Berkley raised her eyes heavenward and patted her goddaughter’s hand.
“A pleasure,” Lady Dorothea said, laughter evident in her tone. Miles had been sure she had a good sense of humor. “For my sister and I, it’s our first season.”
“Well,” Miss Kensington replied, “if you shall not think it overly forward of me, I hope we might have the opportunity to become better acquainted, especially if you are new to London. I will be happy to show you both about.”
“I would like that. We know few people in London.” Lady Dorothea smiled at her.
“Few people! How is that?” Lady Berkley interjected, considerably astonished. “Surely your father must have acquaintances everywhere? Or, at least he did.”
Lady Dorothea’s smile grew pained as she shook her head. “He did, I suppose. But we did not come to London with my father on…on a regular basis, and therefore are acquainted only with a very few, besides the families we know from Surrey, such as the Miltons, the Dewberrys, and the Bradshaws. But other than that…” She stopped and pinched her lips together.
“Well, child. I am so glad you have apprised me of this situation. I, too, will be more deliberate in my introductions now that I am aware of it. I shall have to spend more time with your mother, as well. She must not be finding it easy to go on in society after the loss of Lord Poole.”
Lady Dorothea gave a nod. “You are very kind, Lady Berkley.”
Miles felt the conversation had come to its natural end, and he gave a farewell before clicking the reins. He had scarcely said two words, but that was not what mattered. He had learned a lot about Lady Dorothea’s situation.
“It surprises me that an earl would not have sought opportunities for his family to make more connections in society. Why do you suppose that is?”
“You ask very direct questions, Mr. Shaw.”
He darted a glance her way, frowning. “Perhaps. I merely—”
A rapid movement to his left accompanied by a squeal of fright cut off his speech. An instant later, a phaeton barreled by their carriage with inches to spare. Driving it was a young woman who seemed to have lost all control of the reins. In fact, rather than holding the reins, she had her hands clasped over her eyes.
Without thinking, Miles touched the shoulder of his leader with the whip. He caught it in one hand and steered with the other to try to catch up to the carriage. Lady Dorothea held on firmly, but did not scream, for which he was grateful.
“Can you handle the reins?” he asked her, his voice clipped as he focused on the chase. They had gone far enough ahead of everyone that there were few people to pose a threat.
“Yes,” she replied, her tone sure but equally short.
The phaeton was still ahead of them but they gained on it until Miles inched up enough to bring his carriage up alongside.
“When we pull abreast, I’ll give you the reins and make the jump. The horses will respond to your direction if you give them the sign to slow down gently.” Without looking at her, he asked. “Can you do this?”
“Yes,” she repeated, and when they pulled up alongside the runaway carriage, he saw she was ready for the reins.
He tossed the leather to her, putting his hand on the side of his carriage and one foot on the seat. In an explosion of movement, he leapt over to the runaway phaeton, which had started to pull away again.
His boot scarcely caught the edge of it, but his hands gripped the sides and he threw himself in. Once seated, he grabbed the reins that hung loose over the front and allowed the horses to grow accustomed to the feel of his control. He reined them in by paces, bringing them to a trot, then a walk. He leaned back in his seat and let out a long exhale.
The girl at his side was sobbing, but he could not think of consoling her. The borrowed phaeton with Lady Dorothea driving it was still barreling forward, now nearly out of sight. The ramifications knocked his breath clean out of his chest.
What have I done?
He had forced a lady whose skill he had no inkling of to take the reins of a carriage pulled by two galloping horses she was not familiar with. If she were thrown, she would almost of a certainty be killed. And he would have to live with that for the rest of his life.
He remained frozen as he watched her, helpless with the horror of it, time stretching until it seemed to stop. Just as he thought she must surely be thrown, the carriage began to slow almost imperceptibly, then by degrees, until at last she had the horses at a walk. She turned the carriage neatly and brought them back in his direction at a sedate pace. He began to breathe again, although he feared he might be sick. He put his elbow on his knees and dropped his head between his legs.
“You all right, Shaw?”
