Page 57 of A Brilliant Match
It woke Miles out of his indecision. “You’re right. I had better.”
He turned and jogged down the steps to the carriage, where he climbed in and took the reins. Harry caught the back of the phaeton and jumped up as Miles set the horses in motion toward Hyde Park.
Once again, fate was unkind, because they arrived at the peak fashionable hour and Miles was stuck behind a line of carriages that inched forward as people took in the sights and greeted one another. He ground his teeth in impatience.
It took what seemed an age before the carriages started to circulate, and at last, he caught sight of Dorothea. She was sitting in an open barouche with a man driving in front. Next to her was… Was it a gentleman? He strained to see around another figure on horseback who blocked his view.
No—it was Miss Kensington next to her.
He was flooded with relief. This was not atête-à-têtewith a blasted suitor from what he could see. There might be hope for him yet. He directed his team across the lane to their carriage.
Dorothea was in mid-conversation with Miss Kensington, but as she turned and caught sight of him, her words died away. Miss Kensington signaled to the gentleman driving, who pulled to stop.
“How are you, Mr. Shaw?” Miss Kensington said, as soon as he drew near. Dorothea seemed too stunned to speak. “Allow me to introduce my brother, Mr. Frank Kensington.”
He nodded his greeting and turned his eyes back to Dorothea.
“That’s a fine-looking pair of horses,” Dorothea said at last. Her glance took in his pair, the carriage, and even the tiger behind him.
“I am glad you approve, for I have just purchased them.” He kept his voice light, adding, “And you must know it is an interest of mine to win your approval.”
Dorothea’s eyebrows rose nearly to her hairline, so astonished was her look at his public expression of admiration. Miss Kensington hid a smile behind her gloved hand.
“Mr. Kensington, Miss Kensington,” he said, “I hope you will not take it amiss if I invite Lady Dorothea to ride in my carriage. There is something of particular importance I must relay to her. I know it is most unusual to interrupt your outing in such a way, and I hope you will forgive me for this lapse.”
“By all means,” Miss Kensington said. “Ours was a pleasure party. You need not fear that you have disturbed us.”
“I’m glad to hear of it,” he said with a smile, thankful for her ready understanding. He gave a nod of thanks to her brother as well, then turned to his tiger. “Harry, go to the horses’ heads.”
The tiger obeyed, and Miles climbed down and went over to hold out his hand for Dorothea to alight. She placed her hand in his and stepped down, looking at him in great surprise. But the delight was all on his side. He couldn’t wait to tell her everything.
“Harry, you may wait here, and I will circle around and get you when I am finished.”
“Yes, sir.”
With Dorothea seated at his side, Miles drove the carriage, easily winding around the crowds as they pulled farther away from the congestion. He focused on driving as he attempted to marshal his thoughts for exactly how he was going to initiate the conversation he had been waiting an age to have.
“I thought you had left,” she said after a moment, when he didn’t speak.
“No. Not yet,” he replied with an inward smile, knowing his way of stating the obvious without further explanation would likely not sit well.
She waited for many more minutes, but still he did not launch into what he had come to say. She began to glare at him in expectation. “How lovely that you have a carriage, Miles.”
“It is a nice one, is it not?”
Dorothea turned forward with a frustrated laugh. “I don’t suppose you intend to tell me what is this thing of great importance you are impatient to relay. Or how it came about that you were able to acquire this carriage, or why you are still here?”
“I do intend to tell you, but I am waiting until I arrive in a section of the park that is just a little less populated than this one. I would not have chosen Hyde Park for our conversation.” He glanced at her briefly. “You need have no fear of me or my intentions, of course.”
“I know that,” she said in exasperation. “I know what kind of a man you are.”
“And yet at one time you were not so sure of it.” He trained his eyes forward. Oh, he was enjoying this. To know that he came with good news. To know that his heart was hers—had been hers since he had first met her. To hope that her affections remained unchanged. He glanced at her now, deciding he would simply ask.
“Has your heart shifted since the time you thought me untrustworthy?”
She met his gaze, then looked forward again, the obstinate chin tilting up. “You know it has. Our last conversation can have left you in no doubt of that.”
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