Chapter 13
Her eyes drilled into him like nothing and no one else. If he gave in and took her to bed, he’d be physically satisfied but no closer to having what he wanted from her. Perhaps he asked too much of her. She had little experience with human passion. Her romance came from music.
She brushed a stray hair from his forehead. “It might be best if I retired to the country. Then I would not risk hurting you further.”
Losing her was not an option. Not this soon. Not without one hell of a fight. “Dory, will you play me the piece you have been working on?”
Blinking, she licked her lips. “It is not finished.”
The pink of her tongue darting out to wet her lips drove him to distraction. “I know, but it’s lovely, and if you wouldn’t mind, I would like to hear it.”
“I do not usually play a piece in public until it is complete.”
“This is not public. Only your husband will be in the room.”
She nodded and pushed on his chest.
Letting her go in that moment was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. It went against every instinct to release this extraordinary woman, but he did it, and then followed her out of his study and into the music room. Closing the door, he let the room embrace him. He had only practiced the harp since his marriage and he missed the warmth of the drawing room. He’d brought in several groupings of chairs and couches for comfort and done away with the standard of placing lines of chairs along the walls. Changing the arrangement of the room made it more organic and therefore a more creative venue.
“This is my favorite place in your house.” She opened the pianoforte and sat.
“It is our house and I love it in here.” Standing beside the instrument, he admired the curve of her shoulder, down strong arms to her tapered fingers, poised on the keys. His heartbeat tripled.
She cocked her head. “You never come in here.”
“I wanted you to have total access to the room without my interference. I am never far away though.”
“I could never wish to drive you away from your own music, Tom.”
He sat beside her on the bench. “May I tell you something?”
“Yes.”
“I am fascinated to the point of distraction with the way you play. The sound of it has become an obsession for me.”
Her eyes widened before she looked away and dropped her hands to her lap. “Perhaps you should play for me instead.”
Not knowing what to say was not a state he found himself in often. “I—you are a far superior musician.”
“You will not play?”
Was there anything he wouldn’t do for her? It was a small request. “I rarely play for anyone, sweetheart, but I shall play for you.”
She scooted a few inches over so he had more of the bench and better access to the instrument.
Laying his hands on the keys, he played her composition as he had heard it for the past few days. Note after painful note poured from his heart as the sorrow of the melody passed through the air. He dared not look over, afraid she would censure his lack of talent. At the coda, the key changed and he plugged on to a brighter section and through to where she’d left it unfinished. The last note vibrated away leaving them in silence.
Unable to resist, he looked at her. He’d expected her utter mortification but she stared down at the instrument. “Forgive me, Dory. I know I am not up to the task.”
“Your play is excellent. You should never apologize for it.” Still she didn’t gaze at him, only at the keys with the most peculiar look, almost confused, worried, or a mixture of the two.
“Thank you. The piece is extraordinary. I should not have dared play it for the composer.”
“I am flattered that you did.”
He pivoted toward her. “If I may, you do not look flattered.”
She raised her head and met his stare. “Would you mind if we tried something?”
“What?”
Standing, she said, “Play the piece again but in B-flat.”
He did as she asked, letting the notes fall in that soulful key.
She sat on his right and added an entirely new melody to the construct. This was light and filled with air, as if breathing life into the sad composition. At the keys their hands came close but never touched.
Every note, tone, and vibration soared through Thomas like the first time he’d ever heard Beethoven played. It was as if he were discovering music for the first time all over again. Her shoulder pressed to his seared him with warmth just as her composition branded him with love. Sweat poured from his forehead. Tears leaked out and ran down his face as the music drew to a close and all four of their hands stilled.
Half-afraid, he turned to her, and she, too, was crying. No other person had seen him cry since he was a small boy, but somehow this was right. He could not have helped his emotion anyway. “Shall we write this down?”
Her throat bobbed up and down and she pulled his hand into hers. “Do you mind? I know it’s late, but realizing this is a duet is a huge breakthrough. I have never written a duet before. Everything I have tried before has been for one musician, just for me. Hearing you play my music, it was as if a lantern lit inside me. Suddenly, the missing pieces fell into place.”
He longed to drag her into his arms and carry her up the stairs to his bed. But the music. “Shall I transcribe the original into B-flat?”
“You want to help me? You must be tired.”
“I will not sleep for hours anyway. Let me do this, Dory.”
They moved to the desk, where she scribbled the new section and he transcribed the old. Side by side just as they had been at the pianoforte they worked. Occasionally, she hummed the tune out and found the missing note. The entire time, his body burned for more of her, more music, more flesh. It had been too long since he’d made love to his wife and the sight of her creating a work of art, along with the memory of being a part of the creation, fed his desires.
Finishing the revision, he put the new pages aside just as the hall clock sounded six bells. The sun would be up soon, though the drawn curtains would let in little light. The candelabra had melted to stubs. Tom walked to the mantle and retrieved another and lit all three wicks before placing it near where she worked.
Her hand flew across the stanzas adding the notes that made up the masterpiece she’d created.
Leaning over her shoulder, he whispered. “Shall I leave you?”
His hand lay on the desk next to her and she covered it with her own. “Stay. I am at the end.”
Heart pounding, he sat watching her scribble the last of it.
She put down the pen and stared at the pages strewn across the desk. “Will you make love to me, Tom?”
Had he misheard her? Was he hearing what he longed for since the first time he’d ever seen her? No. It was her voice. Her cheeks colored bright red at having asked such a thing. “I will do anything you want.”
Turning, her gaze met his. “I want you.”
Tom grabbed the base of her chair and yanked hard until she had to spread her knees to avoid them hitting his. Her full skirt lifted to just above her ankles from the unladylike position and her eyes were wide but with no fear in them. Pushing the fabric above her knees allowed him to lift her off her chair and onto his lap straddling him. “Do you want me to take you to our bed, Dory?”
She swallowed and clutched his shoulders. Only the thin fabric of her chemise and his breeches separated them. “I do not know if I can wait that long.”
Cupping her bottom, he pulled her tight against his straining shaft. “As you can feel, I am in no position to argue with you.”
She giggled then sobered. “I could not have finished it without you.”
“I was honored to be a part of something so special.” He tugged her chemise up and found the silk of her thigh distracting from even the music they’d created.
Her eyes closed as he caressed her from knee to where she spread wide. Wet and warm, he longed to sink inside her and take his pleasure, but that was only half the satisfaction he yearned for. Grazing her sensitive bud elicited a gasp, and as he rubbed she moaned deep and satisfying. His rod jumped, wanting to join the pleasure but being denied at least for the moment.
“Tom.” She threw her head back and cried his name over and over again. As her neck arched it exposed her throat and thrust her breasts forward until they strained against the scoop of her gown.
Keeping her seated meant his other hand secured the small of her back, but he licked along the flesh just above the taut fabric.
She cried out and tugged at the bodice until one perfect nipple was exposed.
Tom sucked the tight pebble into his mouth hard.
Arching further, she gave him more flesh to suckle and tease. Her pelvis ground forward against his hand, which was slick with her juices.
“Tom, please.”
Licking circles around her nipple and tracing the same pattern around her sex, she bounced and moaned in his lap. Every movement bumped, caressed, and rubbed his shaft until the pleasure-pain was unbearable and unstoppable at the same time.
He’d intended to give her pleasure before taking his own, but she had other ideas. Her delicate hands tugged at the fall of his breeches, and then she pushed aside his smalls, took his cock in her hand, and worked the tight skin up and down.
Her breast popped from his mouth as pleasure pushed a moan from his lips. “Shall I move us to a couch, sweetheart?”
Thrusting forward she rubbed his shaft and her hand against where his fingers still teased her.
“Dear God, Dory.” The feel of her wet sex against his burning rod was too much. He lifted her until she let go of him, positioned himself at her core, and let her body engulf him.
Their cries filled the music room.
Her feet didn’t reach the ground, so he lifted her up and forward over and over again.
If there was a perfect moment, this was it. Her hair fell from its early state of grace and tickled his face. Her wet, tight body surrounded him with delight. Throwing her head back, she cried his name as her core pulsed around him.
Stilling himself as long as he could stand it, he let her orgasm cascade and relax before he redoubled his pace and let his own pleasure come. He had to close his eyes against the pure joy of it as the rapture took hold and he soared above the world before settling back into reality.
Dory pressed her forehead to his. “That was wonderful.”
Still inside her, he stood lifting her and carried them to the couch near the far wall. A gold velvet upholstered screen blocked that area from the door should a servant come looking for them. Keeping them joined, he lay on his back with her on top of him. “It was. This entire morning, I shall count as one of the best of my life.”
Her eyes darkened. “I am sorry it was tainted by the events of last night’s ball.”
Threading his fingers through her hair he forced her to look him in the eye. “Those things are not your fault, Dory. I wanted to marry you or I promise you I would not have done it. I know your reasons for entering this marriage were more practical, but mine were not. Do not worry about Hartly or your father. I shall deal with them appropriately.”
“I do not approve of you paying my father’s debt.”
Sorry to lose the intimate connection he pulled away and sat up before pulling her onto his lap. He adjusted her gown to cover her breast and held her there enjoying the feel of her. Despite the intimacy they’d just shared, this tamer contact delighted him. “It is a debt owed and I have taken his only means of payment.”
She pushed away from him. “My father intended to use me as currency. Will you do the same?”
The intimacy between them broken, he sighed with regret. “You put me in a difficult position, sweetheart. I respect your opinion, and you are not currency, but the debt is owed and our actions have injured your father.”
Squaring her shoulders, she stood. “You must do what you feel is right. I have told you my wishes on the subject.”
He rose as she did and ran his hands up and down her arms. “Please do not be cross with me. We have shared a wonderful morning together. Ruining it now over a silly disagreement would be a shame.”
Arms crossed, she frowned. “It is not silly. However, I am not cross, I am tired. I think I will go to bed for a few hours.”
“May I join you? I would love to hold you while we sleep.”
Her cheeks pinked in the most stunning blush. “I would like that too.”
Thomas let his breath out. He’d been sure she would deny him such an intimacy even after their lovemaking. He believed her when she said she would like to be held and it warmed him to his soul.
* * * *
It had been weeks since Thomas had gone to Whites Gentleman’s Club. Since the scene at Fitzwilliam’s Ball, he and Dory had a steady stream of invitations. Everyone in London was keen for more gossip and some altercation that would make their affair stand out. The vipers were anxious for another ruckus to break out because the couple was present. Thus far, they had been disappointed. Hartly had not accepted any invitations and no one had seen Lord Castlereagh for some time. Dory’s mother had called several times, but without her husband.
Thomas and Daniel opted to pass on the Berwick ball in favor of a quiet evening of cigars and brandy. The dark masculine environment suited Thomas, but his thoughts drifted to what Dory might wear and who she danced with while he was not at the ball.
Daniel leaned forward in the overstuffed chair and spoke in low tones. “How are things going at home?”
“Better.” His wife wrote her music and allowed him to help. They got along well enough and even laughed from time to time. What more could he ask for?
“Is better good enough?” Daniel sipped his brandy.
Thomas flicked lint off the arm of the leather chair. “I am not unhappy, Dan. Do I wish for more? Yes. But it is unfair to expect more than Dorothea is willing to give. Perhaps in time things will change, but for now, we get along well and spend a good deal of time in the music room.”
Daniel nodded, and then his attention shifted over Thomas’s shoulder. He frowned. “Your father-in-law has just walked in and is heading this way.”
Thomas remained seated and sipped his drink before setting the glass aside. “Does he appear inebriated?”
“I am afraid so.”
It wouldn’t do to get into a confrontation in the middle of Whites. All his attempts to meet with Geoffrey Flammel in private had gone unanswered. Apparently, he preferred public displays. “That is a pity.”
“You!” Geoffrey rounded the grouping of chairs and pointed his finger. Distracted by his own hand, his glassy eyes lost focus and he stumbled to the left.
Thomas rose and bowed. “My lord, how are you this evening?”
“It was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Well, you have done a fine job of ruining me. It is not to be borne.” He stumbled the other way and blinked as if focusing. His cheeks and nose burned bright red and his expensive coat looked as if his valet had rumpled it into a ball before putting it on his lordship.
Most of the men in the room turned to gather fodder for the gossip mill. Some had the decency to turn away, but most gawked and whispered to their friends.
It was a chore to keep his temper in check. “This is not the place for a conversation of this nature, sir. I have attempted to meet with you and you have ignored me.”
“I want no meeting with you other than pistols at twenty paces.” Spittle flew from Geoffrey’s mouth.
A gasp rumbled through the club. There was no mistaking that the Earl of Castlereagh had just called out Thomas Wheel.
Thomas’s stomach clenched as his anger raged, but it would not do to feed the fires of this insanity. “My lord, perhaps you should return home and rethink what you have just said. It is a dangerous game you play.”
Sweat beaded on Geoffrey’s brow as he stepped so close to Thomas their noses almost touched. Fetid breath mixed with alcohol doused the air. “I have had plenty of time to think on your betrayal. I may never have satisfaction for what that bitch did to me, but you I will have satisfaction from. Are you a man, Wheel, or the simpering thief I have always taken you for?”
There was no going back. To decline such a direct challenge would ruin his reputation and to accept would end any hope of happiness with Dory. Thomas sighed, stepped back a pace, and bowed. “Have your second contact me with the time and place, my lord.”
More whispers and mutterings went through the bevy of men who had heard the exchange.
Thomas stormed out of Whites. It was foolish, but he had no choice. He’d rather lose his life than his reputation. His skill with a pistol was unmatched, but killing Dory’s father was not an option. As outrageous as it sounded, he had been outmaneuvered by a drunk.
Calling up to Mally in the street outside the austere front of Whites, he ordered the carriage home and climbed inside. Nothing was as it should be; even his carriage interior closed in on him. His life had never been what one might call normal, but it had never been out of his control before.
Before they’d moved an inch, he listed a dozen arrangements he needed to make.
The door to his carriage flew open, Daniel jumped in and sat across from him. In the privacy of the carriage the normal calm mask he wore fell away. Worry and disgust etched lines around his mouth and eyes. “You’re not going through with this madness?”
“What choice do I have?”
Daniel ran his fingers through his hair. “You could decline the challenge. It’s illegal to duel. Cite that as your reason.”
“My reputation would be ruined.”
“Better that than to kill your father-in-law.”
There were things Daniel would never understand or agree to. Unable to lie to his oldest friend, he did the best thing he could for him. “Dan, it might be best if you stayed out of this mess. I shall find another second who is not so close to the situation. Besides, as you pointed out, dueling is illegal. Your involvement would be inadvisable.”
For several beats, Daniel stared open-mouthed. “If that is what you wish.”
“It is.” It was the truth. He could not and would not involve his friends in the mess his life had become. It wouldn’t be fair to damage their reputations with his own. Protecting those around him, those he loved, was paramount. It was all he had left.
“Very well. I shall leave you to your task.” Daniel exited the carriage, slamming the door as he went.
Just another regret to live with. Thomas added writing a letter of apology to Daniel to his list of things needing his attention.