Chapter 12
Dory played the new piece over again. It was missing something. Perhaps it was the same thing lacking in her marriage, yet she had no clue what that could be.
If Tom had married Serena Dowder he would have gained quite a lot of clout in business. Her father was a Viscount but since Serena was in her fourth season, a match to a rich gentleman would have been accepted by society and a good offer. Lord Dowder had many connections that would have helped Tom as opposed to the damage marrying Dory had done. Serena had gone into detail about all the gentlemen of note who were likely to cut ties with Thomas for stealing Lord Hartly’s fiancée. It didn’t matter that it was untrue. The gossips had run wild with the tale.
If she could make him happy, it would be worth it, but he was miserable and so was she. They had started out well, but since leaving Scotland Thomas had grown more distant. With a sigh, she struck the metronome and counted out the beat before easing into the first notes.
The music room door opened, but she played on.
Thomas leaned against the pianoforte a look of pure bliss smoothing the worry usually etched on his face. He often hid in corners while she played. She knew he was there, but he chose not to step into the light. It was strange for him to walk in and stand so close.
The last notes trilled from her sonata and she closed her eyes. When she opened them, he was staring at her.
Whatever tenderness lingered in his gaze had disappeared an instant later. “That piece has come along nicely.”
“Thank you. It is still not quite right, but there is progress.”
He tapped a folded note on the top of the instrument. “We have an invitation to the Fitzwilliam ball.”
“Really?”
He passed the invitation to her. “I am as surprised as you. It is rather late in coming. The ball is tonight. Shall I decline?”
“Lady Fitzwilliam is a close acquaintance with my mother. I am sure that is the reason we have not been shunned. It would be a mistake to say no to such a gesture.”
“A close acquaintance?”
“Mother does not have friends.” A sad fact that made Dory’s friends even more precious.
“I will inform my valet we are going out tonight, then.”
Before he could take his leave, she touched his hand where it lay on the fine wood. “Will you ever say no to me?”
His eyes widened before he could replace the mild expression he always wore. “Is that what you want?”
“I want the truth. I thought we had agreed to honesty.” Her heart pounded as harp strings out of tune.
He cocked his head and took her hand. Leaning, he kissed her fingers. “I have not lied to you.”
“No. You have said nothing. We have been in London for weeks and you speak only when there is no other choice. I wanted us to be friends, Tom, but I think you do not want that.” She wanted to say more, to complain that he had not come to her bed or invited her into his.
Without looking her in the eye, he traced a path along her fingers with his thumb. “We are friends, Dory. I am very fond of you. In answer to your question, I will deny you nothing within reason. My vow was to care for you, and I will do so to the best of my ability for as long as we live.”
Her breath caught. What could she say?
“I will inform your maid you have need of her.” Thomas strode out as if the room were on fire.
The plea that would bring him back to her lodged in her throat, tight with emotions she couldn’t sort out.
* * * *
Fitzwilliam’s ball always drew a big crowd. It would be good for the ton to see them there. That was why she insisted they attend even with the short notice. Besides, she was sure her mother had gone to some trouble to secure them the invitation.
The announcement of their arrival came with quite a few whispers and many turned heads. Scandal would follow them until someone else provided society with a better story.
Thomas’s expression was tight as he led her into the ballroom. They greeted their hosts at the door and endured coolness but not disdain. Not a bad beginning.
At the large fireplace, Thomas stopped but kept her hand threaded through his elbow.
“Why are you angry, Tom?”
His eyes darted around the room. “I have done business with many of the men in this room and made some of them quite a lot of money. I expect to be treated better and I expect my wife to be treated better.”
She shrugged. “We broke the rules. You knew this would happen. In fact, you warned me about the eventuality. We are lucky to have been invited.”
“Still, it aggravates me.”
She stepped in front of him so he would look at her and not at the people still whispering behind their hands. “You do not even like these rule-following sheep. I have heard you say so many times. You despise their rules and their ways. Why should you care if they gossip about you?”
Eyes like steel, he stared at her. “I do not, but I care if they whisper about you.”
Her chest tightened. “Your wrath is on my behalf?”
He nodded stiffly.
“Perhaps we should give them something to talk about.”
A wicked smile tugged at his lips. She’d missed the expression in the past few weeks. “What did you have in mind, wife?”
The music changed to a waltz. “Dance with me?”
He bowed and offered her his hand.
They floated to the center of the floor. It was early in the evening and only a few couples had danced so far. Placing one hand at the small of her back and giving her the option to take his other, he smiled at her in the way she longed for.
Until then, she hadn’t realized just how much she missed his regard. She took his hand, only their gloves separating skin from skin. Still the warmth of him infused her and spread to her toes, soothing everyplace in between.
He moved them around the dance floor with effortless precision. “Have I told you how lovely you look tonight, Dory?”
“Not yet.”
“You are the most beautiful woman in the room. I am honored to be in your company.”
“We should take up dancing at home.” The idea was out of her mouth before she could stop it. Her cheeks heated.
He laughed. “Do you think so?”
She opened the door she might as well step through. “It would be nice to have this moment in private rather than in the company of the entire ton.”
“I am surprised to hear you say that.”
“Why?”
More couples joined the dance and the floor crowded with them. Thomas expertly maneuvered them around while keeping her safe and untouched by the more brutish dancers. He whirled her several times, leaving her breathless as the arched doors and vaulted ceiling spun by. The music ended before she had her answer.
He leaned in. “Thank you for the dance. I see that Lord and Lady Marlton have arrived. Shall we join them?”
As much as she wanted to see Sophia, she hated his avoidance in telling her why he thought her indifferent to his attention. “Of course.”
They circled the room.
Dory stopped short. “Lady Pemberhamble, how lovely to see you. Do you know my husband, Mr. Wheel?”
The notorious gossip opened and closed her mouth several times like a fish out of water. “I have had the pleasure, Mrs. Wheel. Mr. Wheel, how do you do?”
He bowed over her hand. “Delightful to see you again, Lady Pemberhamble.”
“How are you enjoying marriage, sir?”
Thomas grasped Dory’s hand, pulled it to his lips, and kissed her fingers. “I could not be happier with my choice of bride or our life together.”
“I am happy for you. I wish you both joy.” It must have pained her to say it, but the public arena gave her only two choices. She either had to be cordial or she had to issue a set down. Clearly, she was unwilling to do the latter.
Dory guessed right. She suspected Thomas’s wealth would keep most people in check. At least in public. “Thank you, my lady. Please excuse us. I see Lord and Lady Marlton have arrived.”
With a quick curtsy, they stepped away.
Thomas leaned in. “That was quite a show.”
“A calculated risk, which paid off. She and her cronies are compelled to be affable, at least in public. What they say in the back halls is not our concern.”
“My wife is a clever one. I must keep my eye on you.” Standing taller than he had when they first entered the ball, he actually appeared proud of her.
Heart soaring for the small taste of his approval, she greeted Sophia and Daniel.
Sophia’s golden eyes narrowed with concern. “How are you, Dory?”
“I am fine. I saw you two days ago. Don’t look so tragic.”
With great difficulty, Sophia’s expression changed to mild pleasure. It was impossible for the countess to keep her feeling from her face, but she was learning the ways of the English gentry and made the effort. “I know, but when I heard you were attending this ball, I worried it was a plot to publicly humiliate you and Tom. I could not bear that.”
“It is my suspicion that my mother had a hand in securing our invitation, though I cannot imagine why she would go to the trouble.”
Thomas and Daniel stepped away and were deep in discussion.
“How are things with Tom?” Sophia’s mild expression slipped.
“We are fine. Nothing has changed. I write and play. He works and sneaks in listening to me play.” The pain in her chest tightened.
Anthony joined them. He was in black with a buttery-yellow waistcoat and crisp white cravat. Playing the part of a proper English dandy came easily to him. “I hope I am not intruding, ladies.”
“No, Tony. It’s good to see you.” Sophia kissed his cheek.
“This is quite a crowd. The music is fine, don’t you think, Mrs. Wheel?” Watching the dancers, he clapped when the bandleader announced a La Boulangere. “As I cannot dance with my sister, would you do me the honor of this dance, Mrs. Wheel?”
He was too delightful to refuse. “Of course.”
Leading her to the dance floor, he nearly came out of his shoes. They found their circle as the dance began. Tall yet light on his feet, Anthony showed more than average enthusiasm for the dance, which was delightful.
Dory had to hold back laughing at his exuberance.
“This is one of my favorites,” he said.
Watching him was too much fun. “You dance very well.”
Their circle turned and came together until the last strain played out, and he bowed while she made a curtsy.
Anthony offered his arm. “This was the highlight of the evening.”
Placing her hand near his elbow, she laughed. “I am certain that is not true, but thank you for the dance. I enjoyed it.”
They arrived by their friends as Daniel pulled Sophia out for the next dance.
Tom’s frown deepened at Anthony, who bowed and stepped away.
Chin high and eyes focused anywhere but on her, he might have been a statue meant to go with the gilded walls and painted ceilings. “Are you jealous, Tom?”
With a snap of his head, he stared into her eyes. “I should hope not.”
“Then why did you scare Mr. Braighton away?”
“Did I?” He crossed his arms and watched the dancers again.
“You know you did. It would be silly to be jealous of that young man. I have no interest and I think he is only being nice. Besides, you shall never have to worry I will betray you. I made my vows and will abide them. I could never hurt you with such a dishonorable act.”
The lines around his blue eyes eased and he almost smiled. “Would you like to dance, Dory?”
“That would be nice, but perhaps we should wait a few minutes. We can get some lemonade and make ourselves seen.”
“The sight of you in another man’s arms did not please me. Not even if it is the brother of our good friend and I know he means no harm.”
Looking over her shoulder at him, she expected to see amusement in his eyes, but what she found was much more serious. “To be honest, I am rather happy to hear you say that.”
He grabbed her elbow and pushed her to a corner of the ballroom where a small niche offered them privacy. He backed her in and blocked out the sights of the room. Intensity shot from his gaze through her.
Her heart pounded against her chest with both fear and excitement. With no clue whether what she’d said angered him or not, she didn’t know how to react.
When he leaned in, it trapped them in a bubble of intimacy. “Dory, we may not have married for love or even for more practical reasons, but make no mistake, I am yours just as you are mine. I would not like to find you in a compromising position and I will not break my marriage vows. Not now. Not ever.”
A lump that could turn into tears clogged her throat. She took a deep breath, and then another. She touched his cheek but pulled back. “Tom, I would not blame you if you took a lover. Arrogance on my part, I suppose, but I hoped you would not. A bit of my father in me to think I was alone in commanding your attention.”
His whisper struck right to her heart. “You are alone in that.”
She was struck dumb. Nothing clever came to her as she dashed away a tear that insisted on escaping. She steeled her expression and met his gaze.
He stepped back and offered his arm as they walked to the refreshment tables.
At half past midnight, the lively music drew them back to the dance floor. If every night could begin and end with him holding her in his arms, she would be blissful.
Voices rumbled through the crowd like a disease spreading evil as it went. The dancers stilled, forcing Dory and Thomas to stop as well.
Lord Hartly, stooped and bitter, trudged through the crush of people. They parted for him as if he were poison, or maybe it was their eagerness to see the scene unfold.
Sanford Wormfield at Hartly’s left shoulder wore an amused sneer and fixed his gaze on Dory.
Thomas bowed. “My lord.”
Hartly pointed a crooked finger. “You are a thief and a scoundrel. You are no gentleman.”
Standing straight and proud, Thomas looked him in the eye. He kept his voice low but firm. “I stole nothing. My wife is not property to be bartered like wool or tobacco. She made her choice. I regret any injury to you.”
Hartly blinked several times and licked his thin, cracked lips. “Are you an imbecile?”
Thomas laughed. “I suppose to you it must seem as if I am.”
Dory’s heart beat so fast she thought she might faint. She had been a fool to think once she married Tom all of this drama would go away. There was a price and no amount of manipulation from her mother would alter that fact.
“There was to be a contract and you knew it, yet you still took the girl and carried her to Scotland.” Hartly continued to point his finger.
“True.” Thomas’s voice remained calm and even. The crowd leaned in to hear his softly spoken part of the altercation.
Hartly widened his deep-set, bloodshot, pale blue eyes. “You do not deny your injury to me?”
“I need not deny anything, my lord. The situation is what it is. You had not yet signed the contract and Dorothea chose to marry me. That you feel the lash of those facts is unfortunate but hardly my problem.”
“You…I…I am an earl!”
“A fact everyone is aware of.”
“I will crush you.” Hartly shook his fist at Thomas.
Stepping closer, Thomas towered over the aging earl. His eyes were pinpoints of controlled rage. “You may try, my lord.”
Hartly put up a hand.
Wormfield stepped forward. “You cannot make a scene here. We will deal with this gentleman another way.”
If the situation was not bad enough, Dory’s father stumbled across the ballroom, red-faced and with his clothes disheveled. Dory was an expert at keeping her feelings masked in public, but her resolve slipped. At the edge of the crowd her mother watched, shaking her head. Their gazes met and Dory recognized the apology in her mother’s eyes. She turned away and stepped behind the fleshy form of Lady Drusilla Monkford.
No help would come from that quarter.
Dory took a deep breath and pulled her shoulders back. “Hello, Father. You look unwell. Perhaps you should find a quiet place to sit down.”
For a few seconds, he looked at her as if he had no clue who she was or what she had said. “I have nothing to say to you, daughter.”
It was a cut direct. Dory kept her chin up. “I understand. Since there is no need for us to speak again, I shall oblige you from this point forward.”
Geoffrey’s back stiffened but the reaction caused him to teeter, and he grabbed hold of Hartly’s shoulder to steady himself.
The crowd remained riveted on the scene.
Hartly’s frail frame couldn’t support the drunken lord and the two listed to the left.
Wormfield clutched Hartly’s arm.
Thomas caught hold of Hartly’s other shoulder and grabbed Flammel by his coat, righting them before they hit the floor. The event brought them all close together. “Gentlemen, you are both out of order. Dorothea is my wife now. I understand your dispute, but it is unforgivable that you have created this scene. I shall settle with you in private or not at all.” He stared into Hartly’s eyes. “If you attempt to harm me, my family, or my business, I assure you, you will pay the price and it will be far higher than an embarrassing few moments in a ballroom. I am not some upstart to be threatened. I advise you to keep that in mind.”
Father blinked several times as if the threat did not penetrate his drunken haze.
There was no mistake Hartly understood the threat.
To Dory’s surprise, a flash of fear crossed his face.
A guttural noise close to a growl issued from Wormfield, but Tom ignored the thug and kept his focus on Hartly. Stepping back, he raised his voice so the people close to them could hear. “Good of you gentlemen to seek us out. My wife and I appreciate your well-wishes more than you can imagine. I hope to have you both to dinner in the near future.”
Daniel reached the musicians and an instant later the music started again. The crush of people backed away and the murmur of gossip dimmed.
Hartly stomped away mumbling something while her father stood dumb staring at them.
Thomas pointed at Margaret, who stood watching near the doorway. “Your wife awaits you, my lord. I think she is ready to retire for the evening.”
With a last look at the couple, Lord Castlereagh stumbled away.
Thomas turned to her for the first time since Hartly interrupted their dance. His eyes were wild with passion and danger. Grabbing her around the waist, he pulled her close and kissed her on the lips.
Dory clutched his shoulders to keep her feet. The contact was intense and shot through her like a lightning bolt.
The music changed to a promenade.
Thomas broke the kiss, his eyes closed for a moment before he bowed to her and offered his hand in dance.
A new round of mumbling rushed through the ballroom.
Unable to put a sensible thought together, she accepted his hand and curtsied. The voices faded, leaving only her and Tom moving around the room, as if in a bubble. Even when the dance took her away from him, their gazes never faltered. People would say they were rude, but she imagined that was the least of what they would say of the couple after the scene they’d been the center of.
As the last strain faded he bowed low to her. “Shall we go home?”
She took his offered hand and they eased through the crowd without speaking to anyone. Sophia watched from the refreshment table and Dory gave her a nod as they passed the arched entrance.
Sophia smiled and raised her glass.
Waiting for her pelisse in the foyer might have been the longest wait of her life. She tried to seem oblivious to the gawking from the next room or the people who felt the need to walk past the doorway more than once. It was difficult to keep her mouth shut and her eyes focused on the door.
Thomas leaned in and kissed the top of her head. “Another moment, my dear, and you may breathe. Just hold on.”
She’d put on a public facade dozens of times in her life. Still, it made it easier to know he understood and supported her.
When the footman arrived, it took an act of sheer will not to snatch her wrap and run for the door. She allowed him to place the satin and fur over her shoulders, watched as Thomas accepted his hat, waited for the door to open, and for them to make their exit.
The carriage was close, which was a great relief. Thomas called up to the driver to keep his seat and handed her inside himself before joining her in the dark compartment. Instead of sitting across from her, he took the spot on the bench next to her.
Dory didn’t know what to say. Her proposal had caused all of this. He must be embarrassed beyond tolerance. She wouldn’t blame him if he sent her away to the country at first light.
The carriage rumbled forward, winding its way around the crowded drive until they cleared the party traffic and sped up. The nearly full moon was the only light offered and gave little illumination inside the carriage. Clutching her hands in her lap, she closed her eyes and prayed they would arrive at Thomas’s townhouse before he erupted in a fit of rage.
Even when he shifted on the seat, she refused to open her eyes. If she could get to the house she’d be able to hold her emotions in check. Shame and remorse built behind her eyes trying to push out tears, she did not want him to see. She wouldn’t have it. The matter of her marriage was no one’s business and what was done, was done.
Thomas’s long, strong fingers wrapped around her hand and tugged it away from the other. He threaded their fingers together. “Sweetheart, none of that was your fault. You must know that.”
Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she turned and focused on his strong silhouette. “This is all my fault. I dragged you into this mess when you were perfectly happy as a bachelor. I knew my father’s behavior would damage your reputation and still I enlisted your help. I am sorry, Tom.”
He laughed.
It was the last thing she’d expected and she looked at him. “I thought you’d be angry.”
Cocking his head let the moon shine on the side of his face like a romantic character from one of those silly novels Elinor loved so much. “I am not thrilled with the behavior of those two gentlemen, but I certainly do not hold you accountable for their bad behavior. You behaved admirably under untenable circumstances this evening. I was very proud of you.”
“You are the strangest man.”
“Why do you say that?” He rubbed the back of her hand until the tension fled.
“I thought we were getting along well in Scotland. I even hoped we might tolerate each other well as husband and wife. Then you have barely spoken to me since we returned to London. You were a perfect gentleman with my parents, despite their horrendous behavior. You never yell at me, though I know you must want to. You defend me in public, when putting me aside would be in your best interest. I do not know what to make of you, Thomas Wheel.” She hadn’t meant to let all the things she’d thought over their weeks of marriage tumble out at one time, but she couldn’t stop herself.
The carriage pulled to a stop in front of his townhouse. He called it home, but Dory didn’t know what that word meant. The houses she’d grown up in were places of great anxiety to be better, perform well, and meet other peoples’ expectations. Nothing about living with Thomas was like that. It was all unfamiliar and scary.
He jumped out, pulled down the steps, and handed her down without waiting for a footman.
Dory wished the ride had been just a few moments longer so she could have gotten the response to her statements. As it was, they would climb the steps and he would tell her goodnight as he had every night since they arrived in London.
In the foyer, she handed her gloves and wrap to the footman before stepping toward the stairs.
“Mrs. Wheel?” Thomas’s use of the formal address drew her attention and stopped her in her tracks.
She took a deep breath ready for whatever might come next. “Yes, Mr. Wheel?”
“I wonder if you would join me in my study for a few moments?”
Heart beating out of her chest, she walked down the short hall to his private space, which she’d entered only when summoned.
He dismissed the staff and followed closely behind. Once inside, he shut the door. “What do you want from this marriage, Dory?
“I beg your pardon?”
“What do you want? Do you want a husband who is constantly solicitous? Do you want a partner in bed? Someone to play counterpoint in the music room? A friend to talk to? A hero to protect you from your father?” He leaned against the door in a relaxed state, but the muscle in his jaw ticked.
Where had this come from? He had said he wasn’t upset with her, but clearly that was not true. “I do not know what you are talking about.”
He slammed his fist back against the door. “I am trying to be the husband you want. I agreed to this marriage and hoped to be a good husband to you, or at least a good friend, but now I doubt what it is you want from me.”
“I want you to do as you please. Whatever the source of your anger, I want you to discuss it with me before it becomes this poison spewed out in years to come when we are bitter and hateful. I do not know what I want from a husband. How can I know?” She rounded the chairs to put some distance between herself and him.
Pushing off the wall brought him to his full height. His eyes flashed and his posture stiffened as he stalked toward her. Only the chair separated them. “I heard you in Scotland. You told her grace that you could never love me. If tolerating me is the best you can do, perhaps a friendship will never be possible.”
All the tears she’d been holding back bubbled from her eyes. “That conversation was not meant for your ears.”
“But you do not deny saying them.”
“No. I said them.” What a fool she had been.
“Did you mean them?” He passed her his clean, crisp handkerchief.
She dried her cheeks. “I would never lie to Elinor.”
“That is what I thought too.”
“We did not marry for love, Tom.” Defending herself came easily as the only reasonable course of action.
He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “No. Still, the question remains. What do you want from me? Because our current situation leaves me unsatisfied.”
Of course, that was what this was really about. “I never chased you from my bed.”
He was around the chair in a flash, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him. “You chased me from your life, Dory. No one has ever hurt me as much as when I heard you say those words. Knowing they were not for my ears did not matter. I heard them and you hurt me.”
“I am sorry.” She held his shoulders for balance. “I never wanted to hurt you in any way. I like you and have always admired the friendship you and Sophia share. I hoped you and I could have a similar relationship.”
“Impossible.” He lowered his head a fraction.
It was as if he had taken hold of her heart and twisted the life out of it. “Why? I know I have made mistakes and have put you in a terrible position, but I would hate to think there is no hope for us.”
He placed one finger just under her eye and wiped away a tear before tracing a path along her jaw. “I could never have that kind of camaraderie with you because I have long been in love with you, Dory.”
The room closed in on her. His whispered confession vibrated through her soul more loudly than any scream. They sliced her painfully. “I do not know if I am capable of returning such feelings, Tom. I wish I could return the sentiment, but I have never felt such an emotion.”
He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to hers.
Pushing against his chest, she tried to free herself before he could react.
He held on and pressed his lips to her skin. “I think you underestimate yourself, sweetheart. Perhaps you will never return my feelings, but the way you play tells me those emotions simmer inside you with far more intensity than most people experience.”
“It is only a trick of the music.” Her throat was so tight she had to swallow down the lump. Where his lips touched set her on fire and shot bolts to her most sensitive places.
He kissed her cheek. “No one can fake such passion.”
She hummed with desire and lifted her lips up to him.