Chapter 19
Dory’s heart beat so fast and hard she thought her corset might kill her. Autumn was pushing away the warmth of summer and the chill of the stone steps seeped through her skirts. “I do not see how we can stay here.”
“Is the prospect so horrific?” The hollow despair ringing in his tone shot a dagger to her heart.
Standing, she brushed out her dress. “I am not afraid of you, Tom.”
He rose and pulled his shoulders back. “I should hope not.”
Such progress in his strength and mobility since last she’d seen him thrilled her more than she cared to admit. “My concern is being thrust together like this will be quite awkward and uncomfortable. My errors have been enough burden on you. The last thing I want is to cause you more pain.” She hated the nervous shudder in her voice.
He glared at her through narrowed eyes. “I will endeavor to stay out of your way, Dory. Our friends do not intend to leave us here indefinitely. We shall return to our normal lives in a day or two.”
What did that even mean? Nothing had been normal for months, not since Scotland. The rest of her married life had skewed normal for overwhelming misery. She had been a fool to think marriage could give either of them contentment. “I am very sorry that my presence is so abhorrent to you, Tom. Perhaps we might pretend we are friends as we were before I ruined everything. Then you might tolerate the next few days.”
He gaped at her. “Is that what you think?”
He couldn’t even imagine spending a day or two in her presence. Heartbroken, she shivered. She’d left her pelisse in the house and it grew colder by the moment. “I have taken the room on the left as you reach the top of the stairs. There are several other options for you. I will check if they left us any staff at all.”
Without a word, he followed her inside and then took the lead into the parlor where she’d first found him. He pulled a cord near the door and waited with his arms crossed.
Dory hated feeling awkward and out of sorts. She sat on the overstuffed couch and fiddled with the brown piping along the trim. “You are looking well. Have you fully recovered?”
With a heavy sigh, he sat across from her. “I am well. My staff was vigilant in following your instructions. My life has returned to what it was before.”
Before she’d ruined his life. Her chest ached with all she had cost him. Searching the simple furnishings did not give her an idea of what to say to continue the conversation. “Crowly did not come with you? I am surprised he would let you out of his sight.”
“Crowly is my butler, and while he is not what the ton would consider traditional in the role, he does not follow me around like a valet. I left my valet at home because I was in a hurry and thought I would only see Michael. Had I known you were here…” He spread his arms out wide.
“I am your wife, Tom. You need not fuss because I am here.” He thought of her as he did any woman of society. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed she’d been gone, and all the while she’d pined for him. What a fool she was.
The muscles in his neck pulsed and he pulled his lips into a thin line. “There is no need to remind me of our relationship. I am well aware.”
She wished the unattractive expression made her less desirous of his kisses, but she longed for him as she had the day she left London. “No, I suppose not.” Desperate to keep some civil conversation going, she asked, “Have you been in the cottage before?”
He cocked his head. “When we were quite young, Michael ran away from home. His father was a lot like yours, though even more violent. After a long search, I found Mike here and took him home with me.”
“So you rescued him much like you rescued me.” It was his nature to save people. His letter had said he loved her, but perhaps it was just part of who he was that made him agree to the marriage.
“I would not have put it that way.”
A young woman in a gray service dress and white cap stumbled into the room. “I had a bread about to pop and couldn’t leave it, sir.” She curtsied and wiped sweat from her brow with her sleeve, leaving a smudge of flour across her face.
“You are the cook? What is your name?”
“Jane O’Mally. I am the second assistant to the cook at Marlton, sir.” She shifted her gaze to Dory.
Dory smiled and made the motion of wiping the flour off her own face.
Jane took the hint, pulled a kitchen towel from her waistband, and brushed the white streak from her skin. “I am to be your cook while you’re here.”
Standing, Dory stepped closer. “Did they send you here alone, Jane?”
Her eyes grew wide. “No, ma’am. Sam is here. He helps with the kitchen and any heavy work that needs doing. He’s a good boy, if a bit daft.”
They were good and stuck. One cook and a child for the heavy work. That would not get them out of there or her away from Tom. “Thank you, Jane. You may go back to the kitchen. We will call you if we need anything.”
Darting from the room, Jane left a smudge of flour from her shoe on the wood floor.
“That is it, then.” Tom stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. “We shall have to stay here until one of our friends sees fit to collect us.”
How could Sophia and Elinor have done this to her? It must have been Michael or Daniel who had arranged this mess. Still, the note she received was in Elinor’s hand. Such things could be faked. Michael was a spy, skilled in many things, and would know how to imitate his wife’s letters. “Your friends must have done this. Elinor would never have consented to such deception.”
The muscles in his thighs flexed and as hard as she tried, she could not stop looking. “The same Elinor who conspired to use Middleton to lure Michael back and notoriously kissed Michael in public, thereby securing his proposal.”
“You are twisting things around and you know it. I will not have you speak a bad word about poor Elinor. Clearly, she married a bully who forced her into this scheme.”
“Poor Elinor? I have never known her to be as you describe. She could well have orchestrated this entire thing, and you sound like a petulant child.” Tom stood, towering over her, and pointed his finger at her nose. “You know full well it was your friends who arranged all of this. Never have I met a more scheming gaggle of women.” Glaring at her, he propped his fists on his slim hips.
Her gut twisted. At once she wanted to slap him and kiss him. Why did he have to be so, so Tom? “I will not hear another word of this.” Needing to put distance between herself and him, she stormed from the parlor and up to her room.
* * * *
Dory had paced the bedroom for an hour with the argument running through her head. She punched the bed pillow and tossed it across the room. It might have been she who had instigated the disagreement, but for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why she’d done it. Embarrassed and ashamed of her behavior, she had slipped down to the kitchen and asked to have her dinner sent to her room.
She added loneliness to her complaints as she poked at her quail. The sun had long set, her corset was biting into her flesh, and she wanted the day to be over. Pushing the plate aside, she couldn’t bear another bite with her stays strangling her. She stood and tugged at the ties at the back of her gown. Shoulders twisted, she pulled the bow at the bottom and it knotted. “Damnation.”
Crossing to the bell-cord, she prayed Jane knew something of women’s clothes. While she waited, she took off her sturdy travel boots and rolled down her stockings. The faster she could go to bed, the better. Maybe the morning would be better, though she couldn’t imagine how. She waited, but no one came to assist her. Perhaps Jane was already in bed, or the bell was not working. In any case, she was trapped in her gown and corset.
It would be a long night, but she lay on the bed. The corset cut into her ribs and dug into her waist. “This is unbearable.”
She got up and padded downstairs looking for Jane. The kitchens were dark and the servant’s level unnerving with no one bustling about. The downstairs creaked and wind whistled above like a ghost in the grate. Dory gripped her skirts and ran up to the main level. Resigned to spend an uncomfortable night, she gave a final look in a door at the back of the house beneath the stairs. Inside, the moon illuminated a small pianoforte tucked under the window facing the gardens. With a dainty desk and tufted chair at one end, it must have been a ladies’ parlor. Seating for three crowded the space.
She picked up the letter opener from the desk and brushed her thumb against the edge to test it for sharpness. Once back in her room, she would cut her stays. Great relief came with the notion of removing the torturous contraption. Still, the instrument beckoned her, and placing the knife on top, she sat on the stool. She placed her fingers along the keys and felt out a light tune.
The last note trickled from her fingertips only to be replaced by Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 12. The pianoforte had the most delicate and resonant tone. Pachelbel’s Canon in D followed. At the final coda, she sighed and closed the cover on the keys.
“I wish you would play one more,” Thomas said from the threshold.
Heart leaping in her throat, Dory spun on the stool. “I thought I was alone.”
“That is a lovely instrument. Perfectly tuned and suited to Pachelbel.” He stepped closer and picked up the knife before raising his eyebrows.
Face on fire, there was no avoiding her purpose for the blade. “I could not find Jane and I am unable to get out of my dress. I found that and thought to cut myself free before I suffocate.”
Tom smiled more with his eyes than those kissable lips. “Shall I help you?”
Before she could plan a response, he knelt behind her. “You have a knot.”
It took two full breaths for her to find her voice. “My attempts to pull the bow ended badly.”
“Why did you not come and ask me for help?” His fingers at the base of her spine sent a thrill through her.
Unbearable. She jerked away, but he wrapped a hand around her waist, keeping her seated. “I am no ladies’ maid, Dory. You must give me a moment to work the knot out. It is unfortunate you would rather cut your gown than ask me for help.”
“You were angry with me.”
“Never so angry that I will not help you.” Fabric slipped through with a whoosh and he unlaced the back of her dress.
Every inch of her skin burned with desire as she gripped the front of the gown to her breast lest it puddle on the ground. How was she going to get back to her room without making a fool of herself? The air in the parlor was heavy and fueled by longing and sorrow. Unable to move, she stared at the full moon.
“Shall I untie your corset?”
She should have told him no. She should have run from the room and suffered the night, but her voice betrayed her. “Please.”
Warmth seeped from his deft fingers to her skin as he relieved the pressure of her undergarment. She sighed.
He ran a finger along the skin at her hip. “You have rubbed your flesh raw. This corset was tied much too tight, sweetheart.”
Had he meant to use the endearment? It must have just been habit. “I had not planned on traveling. Normally, I would have changed to a light corset, but Elinor’s letter sounded desperate, so I rushed from Marlton.”
His lips pressed to her scratches sent her thoughts into a frenzy. He turned the stool so she faced him and stared up from his knees. “Are you in love with Anthony Braighton?”
Having heard his question did not make it translate into anything sensible. “What are you talking about?”
“He is a good man. I can understand that you might have fallen in love with him.”
If he hadn’t been so close she might have raged at him, but he was inches away and her heart pounded, her flesh burned, and she longed for more of his touch. “I think you have gone mad. Why would you ask me such a thing?”
“You have been much in his company. He is young, good looking, rich, and we have been estranged.” In contrast to his words, he rested his head in her lap. “I have missed you, Dory. I have missed the music and I have missed talking with you.”
“Just talking and music?” Her heart screamed at her that danger lay in her current path, but she ignored the warning. If she could have a night with Tom, she would treasure it, even if it was only one night. She ran her fingers through his soft hair.
“I missed the sound of your soft slippers walking down the hall toward me.” Under her skirts, he ran his hand along her naked calf.
Wanton and no longer caring about the outside world, she ran her foot along his thigh. “An odd thing to miss.”
“You have no slippers on now, nor stockings.”
“I was getting ready for bed.”
“You should have brought Emily with you.” Kissing her stomach, he caressed the back of her knee.
It was as if he were touching her everywhere at once. She pressed her hips forward, welcoming his attention. “I returned her to my mother because I could not pay her and did not wish to spend your money. I have already cost you enough, Tom.”
He stilled.
She wished she had kept her mouth shut. Expecting his anger to flare and another argument to ensue, she stiffened her back and gripped the front of her gown higher.
Lifting his head from her lap, Tom sat back on his heels. “I think it is time we had a talk, Dory.”
“I did not think talking was what you had in mind a few moments ago.” How she longed to have the warmth of his touch on her skin again and to hear the sultry tone of his voice.
Tucking a stray hair behind her ear, his fingers shot desire down to her toes and everywhere in between. “Our desire for one another can wait. I think we have both made errors. Perhaps if we talk, we can sort out what it is we want from this marriage. You injured me when you left London and I never wish to feel that way again. From what you just said, I glean that your feelings are different than what I believed. Can we sit and talk?”
That she’d hurt him broke her heart. She slid from the stool, crossed her legs, and sat on the rug in front of him. “I never meant to hurt you. I left so those things might heal.”
“What things?” Tom took her hand and toyed with her fingers. Even that slight touch unlocked desires she’d buried months before.
“The damage my father and Hartly did. I know it was all my fault, but I had hoped you could recover your business losses and my going away would ease the social effects of my selfish acts. I am very sorry, Tom. I should have said so a long time ago. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you by asking you to marry me. It was selfish, but I only wanted to escape a terrible life and thought we might do well together as friends. I thought it would be amicable to be married and you might be happy. It is clear now I was only thinking of myself.”
Dropping her hand, he shook his head. “Do you know why your plan did not work, Dory?”
“Because it was a foolish idea.” She would never forgive herself for what she had done to him. So good and kind, he’d tried to save her and she could have killed him.
Taking her chin with his fingers, he tipped her head up to look at him. “No. It didn’t work because you wanted to live like friends.”
“Are we not friends, Tom? Please do not say I have ruined things so severely we cannot be friends. It is bad enough we live apart, but to lose your friendship, I could not bear it.” How would she go on knowing what she had done? Everything she touched outside of music was doomed.
“Shh, Dory.” He pulled her into his lap and brushed her hair from her face. “We are friends, but we cannot live as such because I am in love with you and have been for many years. Even though you do not return the sentiment, I had hoped love would grow between us. Then when I heard what you told Elinor on our honeymoon, I let the truth poison everything pleasant we had made. I am sorry.”
“I was a fool, Tom. I was afraid that if I loved you, you would leave me or hurt me the way my father always tortures my mother. That is why I told Elinor I could never fall in love.”
“I would never treat you that way.” He hugged her tighter and kissed the top of her head.
The thing that had gone from her heart poked back in and hope spread through her. Hope that something good might come of all the pain she had created. “I was afraid and stupid. I am so sorry.”
Easing her off his lap, his expression stern, he sighed. “Why did you leave London? Crowly told me he had shown you the letter I wrote. While I was embarrassed you had read a letter meant for after my death, I had hoped the rapport we shared during my recuperation was a good sign.”
Cheeks on fire, she considered running from the room. Her heart pounded and her stomach knotted. No. Running away and keeping secrets was how they had come to this point. If he planned to leave her, hate her, or rail at her, it would be because of the truth and not an assumption. “I spoke to Michael. While he discouraged me from leaving, it was clear that your finances would make a quicker recovery if I was not under your roof. I should have stayed until you were out of bed for good, but I could not bear it and your life was no longer in danger. I saw the best thing to do to help you was to leave. That way my family and my mistakes would no longer harm you or your business.”
Silently, he turned away from her. “It is getting chilly in here.” Standing, he offered his hand to help her up.
Confused at the change of subject, she stared back.
“I thought I might light the fire and we can warm up. I have a few things I would like to say to you. It may take a little while and I do not want you to catch a chill.”
She took his hand and stood. Her dress and corset puddled at her feet and he swept her into his arms in only her chemise before placing her on the thick rug near the fire. Lighting the fire in the grate sent flickers of white and gold across the room. Once the tinder caught, he tugged off his jacket and cravat and sat next to her.