Page 38 of A Brilliant Match
However, as much as he tried to convince himself that his feelings did not run so deep, he tossed in his bed that night because of her stricken look. Should he try again?
No!Miles could no longer stay in bed, so he got up and paced. No. He was resolute. His intentions were not entirely pure in her regard, for he still needed her dowry. Never mind that she had been proud. He had been grasping. He would not attempt to win her again until he could do so on his own merit. And that meant never.
The next day, Miles went to visit Rock in his old quarters as he would not be taking up residence in their grandfather’s London house until the testament had been read.
His cousin was sitting in his study, unusually somber, sifting through papers of some kind. He looked up when his servant announced Miles, then came over to shake his hand. He was wearing the stark black of deep mourning, and his greeting was more subdued than Miles had ever seen it.
“When is the reading of the will?” Miles asked him.
“Tuesday next. I don’t suppose you got summoned.” Rock peered at him with curiosity. “Or your mother? I have been wondering about that.”
Miles chuckled softly. “No. But then I did not expect it, so it did not come as a disappointment.”
“Sit,” Rock said, indicating a plush leather chair. His London house was infinitely better than Limmer’s. He poured two glasses of brandy and handed one to Miles. “You will think me naïve, but you see, Iamsurprised. I had always hoped that your mother would be remembered at the very end.”
“Mother is wearing mourning. She has written to tell me of it, but I will not be hypocritical and wear it myself. I never met the man, although he was a blood relation.”
“Besides,” Rock added wryly, “how are you going to be able to woo an heiress if you are unable to dance with her?”
“Precisely,” Miles said and lifted his glass. His sense of humor was of a bitter nature, however. The weight of having to marry a woman for her wealth felt increasingly wrong to him. Besides, after finding one he liked, anyone else would be a poor substitute. To continue on that path would make him truly mercenary. He shook off the black thoughts.
“So what will you do now?” Miles asked him.
“I suppose it will be a good excuse not to have to dance at every assembly. But I don’t see myself precisely keeping from the clubs because of mourning.” Rock set his glass on the polished round table next to him. “But I will miss the old man. I am sorry to say it. I don’t like to talk about it with you, considering you did not have quite the same relationship.” He glanced at Miles.
“It is not an altogether happy subject to dwell upon, I suppose,” Miles said. “But you at least had your grandfather—our grandfather, if you must—while I was able to grow up with my father, which is something you did not have. I suppose it all works out in the end, although it would have been nice to have at least met my grandfather once.”
“I think he loved your mother and felt betrayed,” Rock said. “I suspect he was so shocked that she went against his will that he just decided she no longer existed for him. If she had been a son, he might be able to cut him out of part of his inheritance, but he would not have been able to touch the earldom.”
“And if my mother had been born a son, I would not be here, and you would likely be a barrister.”
“So I suppose in the end it is better for both of us.” Rock took another sip of his drink. “And Lady Dorothea?”
Miles breathed in and folded his arms. “I saw her last night at Almack’s. I asked her friend to dance right in front of her. Miss Kensington.” He twisted his face in a grimace. “And then Lady Dorothea left before I could ask her.”
“Spite, do you think?” Rock asked. “After all, she turned you down.”
“Perhaps there was some of that,” Miles admitted. “Perhaps I just wished to show her what she was missing by not having my undivided attention as she once did. I would not be unhappy to have my mind free of her if such a thing could be done. As I suspect it cannot, I would not be unhappy to have a small fortune. I don’t suppose you have any knowledge of how to raise funds on the ’Change?”
“Do not gamble your nonexistent fortune away, I beg of you,” Rock said. “I have an aversion to Newgate and would not relish having to soil my hands to enter it and bail you out.”
“Ah, it was just an idea,” Miles said.
* * *
That week,he refrained from going anywhere he thought Dorothea might be in an effort to remove her from his mind and allow her to find the husband of wealth and position she so clearly desired. He had grown up with the knowledge that his mother had been completely cut out of her father’s life, but it was not until she was cut out of his will that he began to shift in his understanding of Dorothea’s situation.
It was difficult for his mother to endure a life of relative poverty. She was on the fringes of society as the daughter of an earl, but she could not frequent society without her impoverished state becoming evident to all. Gentlemen might be able to get away with a coat cut from a less fine cloth, or boots that didn’t quite possess the sheen of those whose valet was a master of the trade. But a lady must have a change of gowns for every occasion. If he truly pursued Lady Dorothea in earnest and attempted to wear down her resistance so that she accepted his offer, he would be sentencing her to just such a life.
She was suspected to have a decent dowry, but she did not come with independent wealth. It might be enough to fix up his estate, but it would not be enough to keep her in comfort. He could not do that to her. He would not.
One day, in an effort to distract his mind, he went to a traveling show in Peckham. Apart from the cost of the hackney to get there, he would not be tempted to spend more than a few coins. And it would pull him firmly out of his usual sphere so he could try to free his mind from the endless cycle of desire to pursue and reasons not to pursue. The main traveling theater event did distract, and when it was over, he walked by some of the stalls that had been set up. The sights only depressed him, and he decided it would be better to return to his hotel than to continue.
A crowd formed out of nowhere in the crossroad ahead, and they seemed to be cheering over some sort of mill in the center of it. For no other reason than idle curiosity, Miles stepped forward and leaned in to look. He was tall enough that he was able to get a glimpse of the middle, once he had edged his way through. The fight appeared far from an even one, for on one side was a street urchin who fought without any science but with incredible viciousness. On the other was the son of a gentleman. Even if his clothes had not labeled him as such, his demeanor and manner of speaking must have.
“I’ll teach you,” he yelled out before getting hit in the eye in a way that made him stagger.
He had more courage than he had skill, and Miles had to admire him. He glanced around the crowd, looking for the boy’s friends who must be egging him on from the sidelines. But there was no one that he could see. That was unusual.
