Chapter 10
Dory sipped her tea while Elinor nattered on about the children’s artwork. Not that Dory didn’t care about how talented Sarah was, but she was distracted by the half-scolding from Thomas. What an odd man she had married. His views were nothing like the rest of the ton. He cared little for the rules that governed their lives. Though he had turned down her proposal at first, citing the ruin of reputations if they married. She couldn’t figure him out and usually people were easy to read.
“Are you listening to a word I am saying?” Elinor tucked a strand of pale blond hair behind her ear. The high-backed chair surrounded her like a throne in her private parlor. The upstairs, which had been converted into a ladies’ parlor, was close to the nursery. Elinor had checked in on the children several times since they’d come in for tea.
“I am sorry, Elinor. I was thinking.” Placing her cup and saucer on the inlaid wood table, she focused on her friend.
Elinor put her own cup aside. Flouncing back into her chair, she grinned and pinked. “About your husband?”
Dory traced the damask rose pattern on the settee cushion. The afternoon sun shone in the window filling the room with light and warmth. “He is very kind, far more so than I had expected.”
“You proposed to a man you were not certain would be kind to you?” Elinor stared with wide eyes.
“Do not say I proposed. It makes me sound desperate.”
“But you did propose, Dory. And, if you are honest, you were desperate to do so.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
Elinor nodded. “Didn’t you think he would be kind?”
“I hoped he would be, but to be honest, anyone would have been better than the curmudgeon my parents had picked.” She shuddered at the thought of being married to Hartly.
“Thomas seems quite taken with you, Dory.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He is kind and so he saved me. He is making the best of the situation, just as I am.”
“Actually, I thought him smitten with you long before you married. He has watched you for some time.” Elinor smoothed her skirts and swung her legs.
“It is only the music that interests him. I am not even sure why he married me besides the that he loves to hear me play.” She put up the familiar walls that kept her safe her entire life. Dangerously close to exposing herself, the conversation with Elinor rang her warning bells.
“I think he is interested in more than your music.” Elinor narrowed her eyes. “If I had to guess, I would say you like him, Dory.”
“Of course I like him. He is a nice man and a gentleman. Why wouldn’t I like him?” Her heart pounded and a lump formed in her throat. No one would ever hurt her the way her parents had. She had trusted them, loved them, and they had sold her off at the first sign of trouble. Love was not for her.
“I have known you all our lives and never seen you take to anyone the way you have Thomas. Perhaps you might be in love with him?” Elinor leaned forward with her elbows on her knees.
Love would only lead to disaster. “No. I am not like you, Elinor. It is not possible for me to fall in love. I must be content to have a husband who treats me with kindness and respects my art. More than that is impossible with Thomas Wheel. I do not love him and I never will.”
* * * *
Thomas had only intended to pop in on the ladies and tell his wife he was going for a ride with Michael and would see her at dinner. The nature of their conversation had halted his progress. He should have announced his presence, but found himself rooted to the space just outside the door of the parlor eavesdropping like a spy. That was what he was or, at least, what he had been.
“I do not love him and I never will.”
Her conversation echoed against his heart and twisted until the pain was unbearable.
He walked away. Had anything ever hurt more than knowing Dory would never love him? He could remember a dozen war wounds, which were mere scratches compared to the pain tearing at him. What had he expected? His marriage came about for reasons having nothing to do with romance. She needed an escape and he loved to hear her play. They each had an agenda in which love was irrelevant. Still, hearing her say it burned like an iron poker just out of the flame.
He stormed through the house, out the front door, and to the barn.
“What in the hell is wrong with you?” Michael tightened his saddle.
The gray stomped and blew out his nose.
“Nothing is wrong. Why would you ask?” Thomas took the reins from the groom who led a chestnut mare out of the stone building.
Michael mounted. “You have the look of a man about to gut someone. Did something happen in the last thirty minutes I should know about?”
“No. At least not anything I was not prepared for. I was acting the fool and now I see the light. I will not make the same mistake again.” He adjusted the stirrups and tightened the saddle. Giving the horse a pat along her neck soothed both the beast and his own pounding heart. There was something calming about horses.
“Care to elaborate?”
Mounting, Thomas gazed across the field to the north. The harvest was done and the ground lay dormant for spring planting. “I overheard our wives talking and learned more than I bargained for.”
Michael shook his head and nudged his horse away from the stable. “Eavesdropping is a bad habit and one you should endeavor to break if you do not intend to work for his majesty in the future.”
“I know, but I had hoped to gain insight into my wife. She is difficult to read. Always so guarded.” He followed, walking his horse along a path that circled to the west of the field.
“And what you learned put that scowl on your face?”
“She does not love me nor will she ever. I was a fool to expect anything different. Ours was never a love match. She needed help and being smitten by her charms and talent I complied. In the last few days I thought we had developed a mutual affection, but I was mistaken.” He shrugged and urged his mount into a trot.
Michael pulled alongside. “Perhaps it was just more of her guardedness, Tom. Do not give up hope. She seems to like you. Elinor describes Dorothea as cynical and damaged. Her parents are both selfish nightmares who think of nothing but themselves. Going off to school saved Markus. You know that. He had us to protect him. You must remember how different he was whenever forced to spend time with his mother and father. It would take weeks to bring him back from their influence. I pity Dorothea with no means of escape for all those years.”
“More reason for me to keep my emotions in check. She might not be capable of reciprocation.” The idea broke his heart but it didn’t make it less true. It didn’t change what he’d heard in that parlor.
“Maybe it means you need to use more patience and caring. She has had little affection in her life, Tom. Elinor is the only constant in her life who has not demanded and destroyed. I would imagine her faith in people is tentative at best.” They trotted along the path between the field and a small stand of trees.
“So, you suggest I risk my heart?”
Michael pulled his horse back to a walk. “That depends.”
Slowing down, Thomas turned in the saddle to meet his gaze. “On what?”
“Do you love her?”
The idea pounded in his head like the report of a bullet in a valley. Did he love her? Was it too late to save himself from the pain she could inflict? Her father was selfish and ruthless and her mother cross and bitter. Dory’s beauty blinded him to many of those same traits. Yet when she played, her emotions lay her bare to her soul. “There are times when I think I do.”
Michael raised an eyebrow. “Either you love her or you do not. One does not love from time to time.”
She had injured him with the words not meant for him to hear. Her ability to inflict injury must mean he cared. Not ready to admit more to Michael or himself, he kicked his horse into a gallop.
* * * *
“I think we should return to London tomorrow, if that will suit you.” Thomas interrupted her harp playing.
“Did something happen during your ride with his grace?” His distance since returning from his ride had sent up warning flags in Dory.
“No. It seems a good time to go back and face the music, as it were.” He nodded to the harp.
Her gut twisted and her shaking hand vibrated on the strings. She put the harp aside. They had planned to stay in Scotland for another week. Her parents had not come to find her, which wasn’t surprising. “If that is what you wish, I have no objection.”
He removed his cravat, placed it over the back of the chair near the hearth, and then leaned against the back of the chair. “Our marriage will keep you safe from you parents’ plans. I see no reason to delay. The deed is done.”
“Fine.” Their life as a married couple in Scotland had been so pleasant, she dreaded returning to the realities of London.
“Frankly, I am surprised your parents have not found us here. I would have expected them to come here after Gretna Green. After all, my friendship with his grace is well known.” None of the warmth she associated with Thomas lived in his matter-of-fact delivery.
She stood. “I am sure they had better things to do than chase after me.”
“So it would seem.” His eyes softened for a moment before returning to the hard stare.
“Have I done something to upset you, Tom?” Stepping forward, she touched his hand where it lay on the blue upholstered chair.
As if burned, he pulled back. “Of course not. It’s just time to go home. I have a few things to take care of before I come to bed. We will leave at first light. I suggest you try to sleep.”
She stared at his back as he retreated from the room. The ache in her chest intensified and she stumbled back into the chair. Reality had finally barreled its way back into her life. She’d been a fool to believe even for an instant it would be any different in her marriage than it was in her father’s house. Marriages like what her friends enjoyed were rare. Cool disinterest was more common among the ton. Desperation had led her down the path and now she would make the best of it. She dashed away the tears that had escaped and rang for her maid.
* * * *
Two days in a carriage with a man bent on not speaking to her was unbearable. The Thomas who smiled with his eyes and touched her at every opportunity was gone. A stoic, soldier-like man sat in his place.
“I don’t expect we will receive many invitations. Do you have a busy schedule when we get back to your townhouse?” London loomed in the distance from the carriage window.
“I have a business to run, Dorothea. You may do as you please. Compose and play at will. I have a very fine pianoforte.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “You should be able to entertain yourself.”
It should have sounded like heaven. Play and compose, wasn’t that what she’d always wanted? Thomas Wheel offered her the dream and yet it came across as a prison sentence. Disappointment pushed up from deep in her gut where she had been keeping it in check. “Clearly, you are angry with me.”
He opened his mouth.
She held up a hand to stop his lies. “I cannot listen to you lie again, so please spare me the everything-is-fine speech you have been making for the last few days. I do not know what I have done to upset you, so I cannot mend the situation. At some point, if the fancy strikes you, and you wish to tell me, I will listen. Until then, I agree, we should live our individual lives. As I said, it is unlikely we shall receive any callers or invitations beyond our small circle of close friends, so our need to be in each other’s company should be limited. I thank you for rescuing me. I will always be grateful for what you have sacrificed.”
Staring back wide-eyed, he closed his mouth and gave her a nod before closing his eyes once again.
The carriage turned down London’s cobbled streets with slow precision, winding its way until they reached Thomas’s townhouse. They entered the foyer and Crowly, the giant of a butler, took her pelisse and gloves. “Thank you.”
Thomas offered his arm. “Shall I give you a tour of the property?”
She placed her hand on his forearm. Heat seeped through his clothes and infused her despite his chilly exterior.
He opened the double doors to the right revealing a large ballroom. “I have never given a ball, but the room is nice.”
She left his side to stand in the center of the cavernous room. “This is exquisite, Tom.”
“I am glad you like it. The house is far too big for me, but I can afford it and I like to aggravate the peerage by having a larger house than many titled men.” He led the way out to a long veranda shaded by several willow trees as tall as the house.
Despite their size, the low hanging leaves gave an intimacy to the outdoor space. “I love this.”
His lips twitched but the smile never appeared. “I can give you a tour of the gardens later.”
She followed him around the house, peering inside three parlors, his study, and a dusty library. He took her down to the kitchens and introduced her to more of the staff. She arranged a meeting with the cook and housekeeper later in the day. “How many bedrooms do you have here?”
Holding her elbow, he guided her up the steps to the second floor. “There are six besides the master suite, which connects to the lady’s chamber. Feel free to take whatever room you prefer.”
Her heart pounded and she had to swallow down the lump in her throat. “Is the lady’s chamber in use?”
Opening a door, he revealed a feminine room with cream walls and a pastel rug. It was clean and her trunk already placed near the wardrobe. “No, but I want you to do as you please and not feel hemmed in by society’s rules. You should hire any staff you feel necessary. I am sure I do not have the appropriate staff for a lady in the house.”
“I do not wish to be a burden to you.” She ran her hand along the lace of the bedspread.
“It is no burden. My room is through there. You are not required to enter, but you are welcome.” The cordial invitation paired with his cold stare and clipped tone held no allure.
Why had he changed from the man who had made love to her and wanted to play the harp? She opened the door to his room. In stark contrast to her bedroom, his had hard surfaces and masculine colors of autumn. It was like stepping from spring into fall to walk between the two. Perhaps it was a testament to how different they were. A door to separate what should never have come together.
He stayed in the doorway. “Take a parlor for your own and decorate it as you see fit. Actually, you may redecorate anything you like. The house is as I found it. I have no eye for such things and it suited my needs.”
Vanilla and spice, along with a scent she couldn’t place, filled her senses. She touched his bedding and slid her fingers across until she reached his pillow. Sorrow swamped her and she pulled her hand away. “I did not see the music room.”
A slow smile lit his face. “I saved the best for last.”
It was the first time she had seen him smile in days and the effect shot through her as if he’d caressed her from head to toe.
Returning downstairs, she followed him down the main hall to the back end of the house.
He pushed open the doors, revealing a long room with the most stunning pianoforte as the centerpiece. A harpsichord filled the back corner and scattered around the room were violins, violas, a cello and several other beautiful instruments. To the right of the door was a harp carved with Greek figures. It gleamed in the light filtering through the curtains.
She ran her hand along the curved wood.
“A wedding gift.” He shrugged.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Tom.” She hugged him. It was an impulse of the moment.
His arms wrapped around her and for a moment he was himself again. Then he stiffened and dropped his hands to his sides. “No one will disturb you here. I have a small writing desk where I piddle with composing. If you do not mind sharing, feel free to use it in that capacity. Of course, my compositions are nothing compared to yours, but I enjoy the process.”
“I am thrilled to have a place to play and write.” Her voice was so small, she didn’t recognize herself.
“I have work to tend to. Should you require anything, just let one of the staff know. They have orders to get you whatever you need.” He left the music room as if it was on fire.
With a sigh, Dory went to the pianoforte and sat. She ran her fingers down the keys letting them caress her fingertips. Sitting up straight, she ran through several exercises to loosen her fingers. She let all the fear and sorrow of the last few days pour into her playing. Tears dampened her cheeks, but she played on.
Losing track of time while playing happened all the time. Eyes closed, she let the music flow from her. When the door opened, delight surged through her. Perhaps Tom liked the music enough to return.
She opened her eyes.
Anthony Braighton smiled from the other side of the instrument.
Disappointment sank like bad eggs in her belly. She rose and curtsied. “Mr. Braighton.”
His dark hair fell over his forehead as he bent his lean tall body into a bow. “Mrs. Wheel.”
Confused and curious about his arrival, she pointed to the chair a few feet away. “Have you come to call on me?
“I would claim it, but my purpose was to see your husband. He stepped out and I was waiting for him. I confess the music drew me down the hall. I am sorry to intrude.” His American accent made every word harder but reminded her of his sister, Sophia.
“Tom went out?” He hadn’t even bothered to let her know he was leaving.
Fiddling with the lace on the red velvet pillow, he clutched it then put it aside. “The butler said he would return momentarily.”
Everything about Anthony Braighton made her like him almost as much as his sister. He was open and everything he thought produced a corresponding expression. He could hide nothing, not even his nerves over being alone with her. “How are you enjoying London?
A wide grin spread across his handsome face. His olive skin bloomed with a slight blush. “There is always a distraction here. I like it very well.”
“Will you stay or return to America?” She pressed the fingers of her left hand to the keys, tapping out a light tune.
Glancing at her fingers, he said. “I hope to stay. I have enlisted a partner to run things in Philadelphia. Strange as it may sound, I miss my family when I am away.”
She stilled her hand. “Why should that be strange?”
With a stiff back, his glance darted to the high ceiling before returning to her. “Men are supposed to be strong and not care about sentimentality. Still, I find that after a few weeks without seeing my mother or my sister a malaise sets in over my heart. You probably think I am a fool.”
No one missed her from day to day. It must be wonderful to have that kind of family connection. “I think that is the nicest thing I have ever heard. You are lucky to have such a family.”
His blush deepened but he shook his head and grinned at her. “When I am not longing for my sister’s company, I generally want to wring her neck.”
Dory burst out laughing. “Do not say anything bad about your sister. She is one of my closest friends.”
“Then you know how stubborn she is.”
It was not a secret that once Sophia set her mind to something, it was impossible to sway her decision. “She has a firm idea of what she wants.”
“Well put.” Anthony laughed and slapped the arm of the chair.
“You two look to be having a fine time.” Tom strode in, his face a mask of indifference but his back stiff and his fist clenched as if he might challenge someone to a fight.
Anthony jumped to his feet. “I was waiting for your return and Mrs. Wheel was kind enough to keep me company.”
Tom glared from one to the other.
Was it jealousy burning in his eyes? Impossible.
“What do you want, Braighton?”
Either indifferent to Tom’s attitude or uncaring, Anthony’s expression blossomed with excitement. “I have a business offer for you, Wheel. I think it will be good for both of us.”
“You had better come to my study, then, and tell me all about it.” Tom followed Anthony out the door looking back once at the threshold.
Heart beating twice the speed of a metronome, Dory poked at the keys until her breathing steadied and she pushed away everything but the music.