Page 41 of A Brilliant Match
“My loss?” Miles had trouble following, but all at once he understood her meaning. “Ah. My grandfather.”
“You have decided not to go into mourning, I see.” Her words were curious and without judgment.
“I am not such a hypocrite.” He leaned back and rested his arm on the back of the sofa. She was still far enough away that he would not be importuning her by the gesture.
“My grandfather cast off my mother when she married my father, and he had never had the least interest in meeting me. I will not wear mourning for a man such as that.” He glanced at her, wondering if she would understand. Hoping she would.
She nodded. “So Lord Pembroke is your cousin, then. Why did you never tell me?”
He lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “I didn’t know you knew Rock. That is—Lord Pembroke.”
“No. I mean about all of this.” She waved her hand at him. “About you being the grandson of an earl. It seems like it’s the sort of thing one would talk about to…friends.”
A smile touched his lips, and he held her gaze for a long moment. She considered him a friend. She did have feelings for him—he knew it now. He also knew he liked her too well to exploit them.
“It isn’t though,” he corrected her. “Friends don’t care overly much about position or titles when it concerns someone they care about.”
She blushed and looked at her hands, a smile touching her lips. “That’s giving me my own again.”
A small laugh escaped him. “Truly, though. I would rather have you like me for who I am rather than who I am related to.”
“I—”
He was not to know what she would have responded. The door opened, and one of the Rowlandson sisters—the youngest perhaps, although not Lady Matilda—walked through.
“Dorry, did you hear—” She stopped short and looked at Miles, then back at her sister as he stood.
“This is Mr. Shaw. And this”—Dorothea indicated her sister—“is Lady Joanna.”
“Enchanted.” He stood and bowed over her hand. She dropped into a curtsy, and a brief smile clamped her lips shut.
“Will you stay for tea, Mr. Shaw?” Dorothea asked him.
Although the temptation to say yes was great, Miles knew it would not be a wise thing to do. The more he stayed near Dorothea—Dorry. She did have a nickname—the more he was tempted to remain. And he had made the decision to let her go. His feelings for her had run too deep to pick up his flirtation again, when the fact would not change that he could not support a wife. If he did marry, the woman would have to go into it with open eyes. And he would have to begin the courtship with honesty.
“I’m afraid I cannot stay, much as I would like to. I shall take leave of you now,” Miles said. It cost him. He was not sure he would be able to continue to resist pursuing her the more time he spent in her company. Therefore, he would have to curb that tendency.
“I will walk you out then,” Dorothea said. She brought him to the door, where her butler was stationed. “Thank you for bringing Evo to us.”
“Of course.” With a quick glance at the butler, he bowed, bid her farewell, and left. He would do everything he could to keep her at a distance. But he would do it without wounding her by making her think she was unimportant in his eyes.
Chapter16
Miles arrived at his sister’s house, having come as soon as he’d heard the news that Lady Isabelle had reached London. After handing his hat and cane to the butler, he told him he would announce himself, then opened the door to the drawing room where his mother and sister were sitting over cups of freshly poured tea. The two women did not look alike, as his mother had passed on her dark hair to him and his sister had inherited the coloring of their father. His mother was still young and pretty in his eyes, and although she must have been tired, she turned her bright gaze to him.
“Mother.” He walked over and pulled her into an embrace, only now allowing himself to acknowledge just how worried he had been over her at the manor house. He’d imagined her getting sick from the cold and wet, or worse, getting crushed when the ceiling came crashing down upon her.
“How are you, Miles?” She lifted a hand to his cheek and laid it there, staring into his eyes as though to see the truth there.
“I am well, now that you are here. Good morning, Mary.” He slipped out of his mother’s embrace and went over to kiss his sister’s cheek.
“Will you take some tea?” Mary poured it without waiting for his answer. She knew he would, of course.
“When did you reach London?” he asked, reaching out for the cup of tea with a nod of thanks. “The note didn’t say.”
“I arrived last night, but we both thought you might otherwise be occupied. Gentlemen don’t generally sit at home in the evenings.”
His mother smiled at him over her teacup, and he returned it before leaning forward to take a small cake.
