Epilogue
One Year Later
Dory let the music take her where love and light met and euphoria blanketed her from head to toe. It was the last piece she would play for the evening and she lost herself in the sorrow and joy. Notes rolled into phrases and trilled from her fingertips in an emotional story, which pulsed through the cavernous music hall. She sat up straight for the Crescendo, heart pounding. Then, breathing as she reached the Delicato of the final notes, she relaxed.
The last note vibrated against the strings inside the pianoforte and faded to silence. Resting her fingers on the ivory keys, Dory breathed in the silence.
A clap shattered the quiet. A second set of hands joined the first in a tentative staccato.
The hall erupted into a hail of cheers, bravos, and applause.
Somewhere between horror and relief, Dory’s heart found its normal rhythm. She indulged in two long breaths before sliding to the edge of the bench. Once standing, she took a moment to steady her shaking legs and curtsied to the large audience at the royal hall.
In the center of the front row, the Prince of Wales stared at her, his flop of curly brown hair as unruly as ever and his royal robes a rich burgundy. He stood with eyes so intense she wondered if she had dirt on her face.
The hall fell silent. Never had a woman performed such as Dory had tonight. Some things, no matter how beautiful, were still aberrant to the ton. If Prince George cut her, she was finished as a musician and in society. With one word, this man could ruin her.
With tears in his eyes, Prince George gave Mrs. Dorothea Wheel a nod.
Heart in her throat, she curtsied, dropping until her head was inches from the floor. When she rose, His Royal Highness’s lips twitched in a half-smile.
The audience resumed their vigorous clapping, stopping only long enough to bow to Prince George as he left with his entourage. He shone as bright as the gilded walls and the ton moved in a wave of colors like spring flowers. It was a rainbow of indulgence and he was the center of it.
Thomas, dressed in elegant black with a crisp white cravat, rushed up the three steps to the stage and took her hand. “Magnificent, my love. You were the best I have ever heard you. I could not be more proud.”
His pride sent a surge of warmth through her. “Thank you, Tom. I have to admit, while it feels good to have done it, I am quite glad it is over.”
A smile spread across his handsome face as he threaded her hand through the crook of his elbow and accompanied her down to the crowd waiting to give her their approval. “You have done it, and if you choose to never do it again, this night will be remembered as the greatest musical event for years to come.”
“And would you be satisfied if I never perform in public again?” The question had haunted her for months as she prepared for her debut concert.
He stopped short of the main floor and leaned close to her ear. “This night is about you, my love. I am only a grateful spectator. I have the supreme honor of hearing you play daily. Doing this, accomplishing what you did tonight, was for you and you alone. Enjoy it. If you never play in public again, I will love you as much as I do today and feel just as lucky to call you my wife.”
The tension eased around her gut and she took a breath before scanning the crowd for their friends. Markus had not come, but Elinor, Michael, Sophia, and Daniel were there.
Even her young brother Adam was in attendance. He ran over, all legs and arms, to give his congratulations. “You really were good, Dory. I cannot wait to tell my mates at school that my sister played for the Prince. No one will believe it.”
Dory hugged him. “Thank you, Adam.”
At the back of the room, Margaret Flammel watched.
Dory met Mother’s gaze over Adam’s shoulder.
With a nod, Margaret smiled and left the hall.
Tears filled Dory’s eyes and she dashed them away, pushing down the brick of emotion lodged in her throat. It shouldn’t have matter what Mother thought, but seeing the pride in her eyes washed away a lifetime of censure. The irony was if Margret had given her approval years before, Dory might have felt no need to have the heir to the crown of England validate her skill.
Sophia pushed through the crowd and grabbed Dory in a hug.
Elinor had cried a river, making her eyes red and her nose swollen. “You played as if no one was watching, Dory. You broke my heart and mended it a dozen times tonight. I wish I could bottle up the perfection you created and take it home with me.”
Always her greatest musical admirer, Elinor’s praise brought Dory to tears, which she pushed down by biting the inside of her cheek. “I am glad you enjoyed it, and you know I will play for you anytime you like.”
Friends and acquaintances paid their respects to Dory. Some congratulated Thomas, though he brushed those off, saying it was not he who played.
* * * *
It was hours before they could leave the Royal Music Hall and go home. In the privacy of their bedroom, Tom poured them each a brandy before sitting by the fire.
He had spent most of his life wishing to have the gifts he so admired in Dory. Watching her play to the most prestigious crowd in London had been a singular moment in his life. Even a year later, he was in shock every time he considered his good fortune. Why she would want him when she could have had anyone was still a mystery to him, but he thanked God every day for his luck. “Now that you have done what you thought only a man could do, what will you attempt next?”
Wearing her nightshift and wrap, she shivered and pulled the wool blanket from the hassock. Snuggling in, she sipped the brandy. “I do have a project in mind, but I shall need your approval, Tom.”
“Since when do you require my permission to do anything?” Tom put down his drink and pulled the lap harp close before he strummed a C chord. One of his favorite parts of the day was how they finished each day with music. Some nights they indulged in a session in the music room and more than once the downstairs maid had discovered them after dawn. Usually, she found them asleep on the chaise, but more than once she found them nude and sprawled on the rug by the hearth.
Tom suspected his staff enjoyed a good giggle over some of the antics Dory and he engaged in while sharing their love for each other and music.
She put the brandy down. “For this, it is necessary that you and I work together.”
Intrigued, he played a G chord. “Have you been working on a duet for us?”
Her cheeks turned the loveliest shade of pink. “No, but that’s not a bad idea. What I had in mind is more permanent.”
Heart racing, he put aside the harp. “You are not leaving.” Part of him meant it to be a question, but desperation forced out a command.
Eyes wide, she shot forward and knelt before him grabbing his hands. “Never again, Tom. I will never leave you. You must toss me from this house if you wish to get rid of me.”
The knife, which had stabbed him in the heart, eased back and he breathed. Lifting her from the carpet, he pulled her into his lap. “What then, Dory? What could you want that you are so hesitant to speak about?”
Still on his lap, she pulled the harp close and strummed the most beautiful few notes. Her bottom fitted against him with perfect symmetry and his body responded to both her form and the gentle glide of her hands on the strings. He may have imagined the vibration from the harp shooting to his groin, but all the same, he wanted her to continue.
A few more phrases plucked from her fingers then she pressed both palms to the strings, stopping the music. “I would like to start a family, Tom.”
All the air rushed out of his lungs. “I did not think you wanted children. You have not mentioned it.”
She rested her head on his shoulder and pulled one finger across the full set of strings. “I have thought of it on the occasions when enjoying my friends’ children. However, of late it has been more and more on my mind. I would like to be a mother. I pray I will be better at the task than my parents were, though I fear I will fall into the same category.”
If a heart could burst from joy, his was at the brink of eruption. “You are nothing like either of your parents, my love. Our children will be loved openly just as we love each other. It is honesty that pulled our hearts together and that is how we will always go forward.”
“Does that mean you would like to have a child?” This shyness from Dory intrigued him.
Thomas pulled the hassock forward with his foot and moved them so that Dory sat between his legs with the harp in front of her. He put his hands on the strings above hers. “It means I can think of nothing I would love more than to have a child with you. I know you will be a wonderful mother.”
“I am not as certain, but you will make up for what I lack.” She strummed several chords.
Moving his hands to the deeper notes, he attempted a counterpoint. It was surprisingly successful. “Perhaps we might write a duet for the harp.”
Her laugh was full and round and made his heart sing. “I think perhaps we should attempt that on two harps, Tom.”
Pulling her bottom tighter into his groin, he nuzzled her neck. Her soft blond waves tickled his face and her scent intoxicated him. “You do not wish to play a duet as we are now?”
Leaning her head gave him better access to her soft skin. She played the melody from the Sonata in G. “I do not mind, but for whom would we play such a duet?”
He fumbled the harmony, hitting the same string as her on two occasions, but then he found the balance and the sound filled the room. “Do you think our friends would be shocked by a duet on the harp?”
She kissed his jaw and let her hand trail along his thigh. “I do not know of a society function where our sitting like this would be acceptable. Not even amongst our closest friends.”
With her right hand, she played at a speed he had no hope of keeping up with. Still, he plucked out the harmony as best he could. “Perhaps then, we shall need to purchase a second harp and save the duet on one harp for the bedroom.”
Craning her neck, she met his gaze. “You would play harp in public, wouldn’t you?”
Lord, how he loved the way she looked when he surprised her. Her eyes filled with a wonder only he inspired. He would spend his life finding ways to keep her so inspired if only for his own selfish reasons. “I find no shame in making beautiful music with you regardless of the instrument.”
“Shall we play it at the Royal Music Hall then?” Dory raised an eyebrow.
It was one thing to play the harp for his friends, but he doubted his skill level was paramount to playing for the Prince of Wales. “Perhaps not right away.”
The music of her laughter filled his life in ways Thomas had never imagined possible. The harp strings sang in perfect accompaniment to his happiness. He captured her lips with his and her fingers faltered.
Moving the harp aside, he deepened the kiss and enwrapped her in his arms. “Dory, do you know how happy you have made me?”
She brushed the hair from his forehead in a gesture that had become intimate over the last year. “Only half as happy as you make me, Tom.”
“Not possible.”
“Why not?” Her lips pursed, distracting him.
Thomas brushed his thumb over her bottom lip and she sucked the digit into her warmth before smiling a wicked grin.
“If you were twice as happy as me, you would grin all day and get nothing done. Do you know how often I find myself staring at a contract for half an hour before I give up and come and play in the music room with you?”
“Do you know how often I tinker in the music room, praying you will join me so I can stop wondering what you are doing and when I will see you again?”
His heart pounded like the first time he saw her after she made her debut. That night, he realized his friend Markus’s little sister was all grown up and he was in trouble. Six years later, he was still doomed. “Is that true?”
“Of course. I love you, Tom. Far more than I thought I could love another person. I love you more than music.”
Thomas Wheel could not catch his breath. “More than music.” He swallowed down a lump of emotion.
Sitting up, she turned and took his face between her hands. Those green eyes were like Cupid’s arrow to his heart. “You did not know. How can that be? Nothing matters more than you, Tom. Nothing.”
He turned his head and kissed her palm. “I do not know what to say, Dory. I never dreamed you would care for me this way. I knew you loved me but always assumed I would continue to be second to the music.”
She kissed his cheek, his chin, and then captured his lips. “More than the music, Tom. You are my music.”
The universe tilted and righted itself. “And you are mine, my love.”