Page 44 of A Brilliant Match
“That wasn’t exactly the type of lesson I had in mind,” Miles said dryly. “But yes, I can teach you to box if you’d like. And I shall do so, if you behave yourself and treat your sisters and mother with the respect they deserve. Do we have an understanding?” He held out his hand.
Evo nodded and shook it. “Perfectly clear. You have no need to fear I shall step out of line again.” He turned and moved toward his sisters.
Miles followed, impressed by the quick turnaround in the boy’s mood. If this was any indication of the heart that lay underneath, Evo would make a fine earl. He had a heart and conscience underneath the momentary displays of bad manners. And furthermore, he did not appear to hold grudges. Miles was not sure he could have boasted such humility at the boy’s age.
As Miles regained his seat, Dorothea glanced between him and Evo with curiosity. He gave her a tiny smile, just as Lady Berkley brought his mother over to their circle. They all stood for the introduction.
“Lady Isabelle, allow me to present you to the Earl of Poole’s family. This”—she gestured, smiling—“is Lord Poole. Lady Poole is the late earl’s widow, and this is his eldest daughter, Lady Dorothea, and his second-eldest daughter, Lady Sophia.”
Turning to Lord Poole’s family, she added, “And this is Lady Isabelle Shaw, who, I am sure you will not be surprised to learn, is Mr. Shaw and Mrs. Penworth’s mother.”
They exchanged greetings, and Miles looked for signs from his mother to see what she thought of Dorothea. Lady Isabelle’s eyes rested on her the longest, and he was now sure Mary had spoken of her.
“Anne, I shall need you to pour, if you will,” Lady Berkley said to Miss Kensington.
Mary and Miss Kensington had struck up a conversation, and his sister followed her over to the tea table. Lady Berkley gestured for Miles’s mother to sit next to him, while she went to join Lady Sophia and her mother.
His mother smiled at Dorothea, sitting across from them. “I knew your father a very little, although I have not met your mother before today.”
Dorothea swiveled in her seat to face Lady Isabelle more fully. “Will you be staying for the rest of the season, my lady?”
His mother looked hesitant and glanced at Miles. “I am unsure. It will depend upon whether Albert—my daughter’s husband—will find it convenient to have me stay.”
“Oh!” Dorothea sent Miles a confused look. “But if he does not find it convenient, you will be able to stay with Miles—that is, with Mr. Shaw.” Her voice was inclined upward as though she was stating the obvious and waiting only for it to be confirmed.
Miles shifted in his chair. It was the least he should be able to do—to provide for his mother. How uncomfortable that he could not. He was unable to bring himself to answer her, and it was his mother who shook her head.
“I am afraid it is not possible. Miles is renting a room in a gentlemen’s hotel.”
Dorothea didn’t exclaim outwardly this time, but her face told Miles all he needed to know. The fact that he could only afford to rent a room, and not even a house in the unfashionable quarter showed, if nothing else did, the extent of his poverty.
“That is a shame,” Dorothea said, turning back to Lady Isabelle. “It is fortunate, then, that you have a home to return to in Lancashire. I imagine it must be quite comfortable. Mr. Shaw had said it was of a snug size.” She looked at him, a smile touching her lips. “Or you said something along those lines.”
Miles was frozen. What could he say? He had never purposefully deceived her about his house or its condition. In fact, he had not even been aware of the extent of its condition when he had spoken of it. But this was getting dangerously close to the truth he longed to have out but dared not reveal.
“Snug.” His mother looked at him, startled, and laughed. “I suppose it was quite snug. At least, I have always loved it, especially in those years I shared it with Miles’s father. But I am afraid it is far from snug right now, as we have suffered a setback. Nearly the entire roof has caved in, and the rain water is pouring onto already damp walls.”
She shared a look with Miles that included a wan smile. “We are hard-pressed to find a means to repair it, are we not?”
He stared at his mother, trying to hide the sensation of horror. Was she trying to put him to the blush by describing their situation so openly?
“We…I…”
He turned his eyes to Dorothea, whose full regard was now on him, her lips parted in surprise, and her eyes glittering.
“Are you?” she asked, directing her question to him in a voice that was as civil as it was cold. “Are you hard-pressed to find the means? There is always the possibility of marrying an heiress. That would solve all of your problems at once.”
“Oh dear,” his mother said, staring at Dorothea in dismay. “I fear I have been out of Society for too long, and have spoken all too honestly about our circumstances, which is not a thing done. I hope you will forgive me, Lady Dorothea.”
“You may be assured of it.” Dorothea turned to his mother, her expression controlled, but her eyes livid. “I shall not breathe a word of your circumstances. I should not dream of causing any embarrassment to you or Mr. Shaw.”
Miles’s heart sank. Any headway he might have fooled himself into thinking he had made in her heart, despite his disadvantageous situation, had been destroyed by this revelation. She would know at once that he had proposed to her out of desperation and not—as he would have liked—out of the love he was now sure he felt for her.
* * *
“Mary,would you give me a moment with Miles?”
Lady Isabelle was seated once again in Mary’s drawing room, and although Miles had attempted to make his escape after Lady Berkley’s house to think through the disastrous disclosure in Dorothea’s presence, his mother had gently steered him back to Mary’s house, saying she wished for a word with him.
