Page 2 of A Brilliant Match
“Let me help.” Sophia hurried into the room and collected the letters that Dorothea had not yet reached, handing them to her without a word. Her sister was aware of her preoccupation with the letters, although she had expressed her opinion that such preparedness was unnecessary.
As Dorothea resumed her seat, Sophia sat on the edge of the bed. She folded her hands and met Dorothea’s regard with a wistful smile she interpreted to mean her sister had nothing else to occupy her at the moment.
“I have asked Margery to lay my evening gown out on the bed.” Sophia wrapped one slender arm around the bedpost and leaned against it. “Are you certain we must attend tonight, Dorry? We have only just arrived this day. It all seems so hurried, and it worries Mama to be rushed like this.”
Dorothea had thought nothing remained in the way of preparation, but at Sophia’s reminder, she went over to the wardrobe and pulled out the gown she had planned to wear that evening. It had been carefully hung and was not wrinkled, but that might change with a couple of hours stuffed amongst her other gowns.
“Of course, we must attend. Lady Berkley’s ball opens the season, and it’s the only one we have been sent an invitation to so far. It was unfortunate that Tilly should have taken ill and delayed our arrival in London, but we must not miss tonight.”
When their youngest sister Matilda had fallen ill the day before their scheduled departure, their mother refused to leave the manor until she was quite certain she had not caught the vicious cold from her daughter. It would be unbearable to travel from Surrey to London with a head cold, she’d affirmed.
Sophia swiveled in place to watch Dorothea lift her gown high and examine it for any signs of imperfection. “Still, I fear it will be uncomfortable for Mama. And I don’t know why you insisted I come out the same year as you. I would have been perfectly content to have waited until next year. Camilla and I could have had our season together.”
Dorothea paused in her actions to stare. “You cannot mean that. While last year you might have stayed behind in the schoolroom, though that’s hardly usual for a young woman of seventeen, you simply cannot delay your being out again. Not at your age. You shall have every opportunity I have to make an eligible match.”
She raised an eyebrow, adding with the glimmer of a smile, “I believe you’ll need it, too. It will take time for any gentleman, much less the right one, to win your regard.”
As the words left her lips, Dorothea fell prey to a hitherto unthought-of dread. It was true, her sister was shy and would not give her heart to the first suitor who presented himself. This was one of the reasons Dorothea wished for her to have as long as she needed to win a gentleman’s heart before her sister could be considered on the shelf. But what if it did not all go according to plan? What if her sister was the toast of the town and she, Dorothea, was cast into the shade? It would be the height of unfairness, when she was the eldest and deserved to secure her husband first.
Unaware of these jealous and fearful intrusions upon Dorothea’s mind, Sophia regarded her openly.
“In truth, I am in no hurry to be married. I shall not consider a match if I am not motivated by love.” She cast her eyes down to her lap and leaned back on one hand before lifting them again to Dorothea. “I could not tie my lot to someone who must be nothing more to me than a stranger.”
“I would expect no less of you,” Dorothea replied, fighting back her fears over all that was at stake with efficient movements to ready her attire. Satisfied that her evening gown was flawless, she laid it over the bed and went to the jewelry box to choose something to go with it. It served to remind her, and she turned to Sophia with a crease in her brow. “What accessories have you chosen for tonight?”
“I had not thought of it. I have the longer strand of pearls from Mama. I suppose it must be that.”
Dorothea was already shaking her head. “No, that will be too long for the bodice of your gown, and the pearls have an ivory cast to them. I think you should wear my triple strand of miniature pearls. Their rosy hue will go well with your gown and complexion, and they are of a perfect length. Those will suit you admirably.”
Sophia stood and came to hug her. “You are always thinking of others. I hope you will also make a love match this season. You deserve as much.”
Uncomfortable with praise that she knew to be unwarranted, Dorothea gave a short laugh.
“A love match—I? No, sister, I do not seek a love match. I seek an advantageous match—abrilliantmatch. Only with that will I be content.”
“Well, I think you shall miss out with such low expectations of happiness.” Sophia’s scrutiny was too sharp for Dorothea’s comfort. “Think of having a marriage like Mama and Papa, may God rest his soul. It is not to be borne.”
“Idothink of it.” Dorothea slipped out of her sister’s embrace. “Our mother married very well. And, although I wish to observe every filial consideration to our dear mama, unlike her, I have been raised the daughter of an earl. I shall be an asset to any peer who chooses me for a wife. I am not overly given to tears or fainting spells, and it would take much to overset me. No, I believe none but my choice to marry for position will suit me, and it is what I am determined to do.”
Sophia looked unconvinced, but she let the matter drop.
* * *
At precisely nineo’clock that evening, Dorothea was tugging on her gloves as Sophia pulled her cloak around her gown. Their mother had yet to come down, but her lady’s maid assured them that Lady Poole would be ready at any moment. The surprising sound of someone knocking at the front door caused Dorothea to pause in her movements. Her sister returned her stare, perplexed, then moved toward the door to the drawing room. When it opened, she threw up her hands in surprise.
“Evo! Whatever are you doing here?”
Their brother, in London?Dorothea went stock-still. This was not what she had planned. She had specifically arranged for Everard to arrive the day after the Berkleys’ ball so they need focus only on one event at a time. There must have been an error in communication for Evo to have arrived today. When their younger brother walked in and gave her a jaunty bow accompanied by a grin, she put her hands on her hips and sent him a dark look.
“Everard, why are you here a day early? Where is Mr. Sands?”
“Surprised, are ya? I knew you would be.” Everard looked around the drawing room. “By gad, I’d forgotten what this place looked like.”
“Surprised—and also in expectation that you will answer my question,” Dorothea replied.
Her brother still had the look of a boy, even at the age of thirteen. He was on the short side and had not hit any noticeable markers that would lead one to believe he was on the cusp of manhood. He marched into the room and flung himself down in one of the chairs as both Sophia and she sat to hear his story.
“Well, it was a stroke of pure luck, I tell you, but I ran into Harv who was also heading into London. Only he was traveling with his cousin in a chaise and four and was making double the time on what we were doing with that rental pair of bone-setters. So when he invited me along yesterday at breakfast, I told him I’d come. I ditched Mr. Sands, who was sleeping still.”
