Looking up, she said, “I have not seen the original, but I imagine the subject is much more appropriate in a cathedral than it is here in the ballroom.”
Sophia shrugged. “It is rather daunting, I agree.”
The two ladies were so engrossed in the ceiling they did not notice the Earl of Hartly approach. “Admiring one of the great works of London, Ladies?”
Dory rolled her eyes.
“Lord Hartly,” Sophia said, “You are good friends with Lord and Lady Bromley, are you not?”
“Yes, his lordship and I went to school together. I helped him find the artist who created that masterpiece,” he added pointing to the ceiling.
“Of course you did,” Dory said under her breath.
“Excuse me, my dear?”
She flinched at his use of an endearment in public. She looked over at Sophia who had also noted the familiarity and was staring wide-eyed. “Nothing, I was just noting the detail,” she lied.
He nodded, took a step back, and fixed his stare on Lady Dorothea Flammel from the top of her head to her satin slippers as if she were a horse he was thinking of buying. He lingered for an extra second at her bosom where it swelled over the neckline of her gown.
She felt soiled, as if the deep green confection had become transparent under his gaze. Her eyes narrowed on the old man before her and a sharp set down was on her tongue. She opened her mouth to tell the lecherous old man what she thought of him.
“Lady Dorothea,” a man said, with a deep, familiar voice. “May I claim the next dance?”
The sea-blue eyes of Thomas Wheel could almost make her forget the leering of the gray-haired lord next to her.
She had no chance to answer.
“Yes, go, go,” Hartly said waving his cane. “I am in no condition to dance.”
It took every ounce of her strength not to inform the earl she would rather have a tooth extracted than allow him to touch her. She managed a short curtsy and took Thomas’s arm. One last glance at Sophia revealed the earl giving her figure a thorough perusal, but Daniel arrived in short order. One look from the Earl of Marlton and Hartly shuffled away cane in hand.
Once she was in Thomas’s arms, she had a better look at those blue eyes that had been her salvation a moment before. Now she could see the anger in them. He looked dangerous to her for the first time.
When the first note of music began, a waltz echoed throughout the room. Thomas offered his hand and Dory took it. She felt his arm curl around her waist and settle at the small of her back. She allowed herself to be led around the floor in silence.
In all the years she had known Thomas Wheel, she had never feared him. He had been one of her brother’s closest friends and had summered at their country estate more than once. If anyone asked her to describe his demeanor, she’d have said he was a lighthearted, good-humored man. However, the look in his eyes as they made a loop around the ballroom was far from the happy fellow of her youth.
He was a stranger to her. His jaw tightened and twitched in a way that made her at once wish to run and put her hand on his cheek and soothe away his anger. For a fleeting moment, she thought she ought to be afraid of him. After all he, like her brother, had worked for the foreign office doing things that one must presume would make a lady cringe. Markus never spoke of his time overseas and she suspected Thomas would be just as closed-mouthed about the war.
The silence was thick, though she did not find it uncomfortable. Her parents often engaged in small talk to fill the silence, but she preferred quiet to mindless chatter. If she were honest, she would rather sit with her music than with a person, which is how she ended up about to be married to a lecherous old man.
Pushing unpleasant thoughts from her mind, she focused on the dance. Thomas moved with smooth assurance. His arms felt safe and sure around her. His warmth seeped through her gown and corset and she wondered if the warmth was normal or caused by whatever had made him angry.
She inhaled and his scent was also warm and spicy. Looking up, she found him staring down at her the anger gone from his eyes.
“I think I must apologize,” he said.
Her eyebrows rose. “Whatever for?”
“I have wasted half of our dance fighting my temper. You must feel neglected.”
She thought about how she felt. “Not neglected,” she said. “I feel quite at ease, Mr. Wheel. You make me feel safe. Does that sound strange?”
His smile was so private, she blushed.
“You are safe with me, Dorothea, as long as you never call me Mr. Wheel ever again,” he said pulling her closer.
“Thomas, then,” she corrected smiling up at him.
His expression hardened. “You cannot marry that old lascivious pig,” he commanded.
Hope filled her and she had to swallow twice to speak. “Do I have a choice?”
His eyes softened. “Are you certain I am what you want?”
Gulping air, she blurted the answer. “I am sure, Thomas.”
He nodded. “I will find a way to send word to you of my intentions.”
It was as if a large cloak had lifted off her and she could breathe again. “I appreciate your kindness more than I can say.”
The music ended and he bowed deeply taking her hand. His gaze met hers and he spoke in a whisper meant for her ears only. “It is not kindness, but I will do my best to make you happy, Dorothea Flammel.”
His eyes were so earnest that her eyes welled with tears. “I know you will.” Face warm, she didn’t know why she was blushing as he escorted her to the edge of the dance floor.
Hartly had moved off to speak to a man with a brown coat and whiskers. Dory was relieved he’d gotten distracted, but the man seemed out of place in the ballroom. Leaning in, she whispered, “Thomas, do you know who Lord Hartly is talking to?”
Her hand rested on his forearm and he placed his other hand on top. It was intimate and protective. “His name is Sanford Wormfield. Hartly keeps him as a protector. I understand the man is quite dangerous. You should stay clear of him.”
“Is he a soldier?” A long red scar ran from just below Sanford Wormfield’s left temple to just under his jaw. He met her stare and a shiver ran up Dory’s spine. She looked away.
“Of fortune, perhaps. He is an unsavory character.” He slowed their pace, keeping them out of the crowds formed around the dance floor.
“Why would Lord Hartly need such a man in his employ?”
“That is an excellent question.” Thomas led her back to her mother who spoke to Lady Dowder. “Thank you for the dance, Lady Dorothea.”
Over Thomas’s shoulder, Wormfield watched her. She whispered. “Should I be afraid?”
Thomas turned in the direction of her gaze. A crooked smile lifted his lips, but did not touch his eyes. Leaning in, his breath brushed her ear. “I will not let anything or anyone harm you.”
“Hello, Mr. Wheel,” Serena Dowder interrupted, her voice filled with enthusiasm.
Dory would have sworn she heard Thomas groan. “How do you do, Miss Dowder?”
“I am in perfect health, thank you. I have an opening in my dance card. I saved it just for you.” She flipped her brown curls over one shoulder and fluttered her eyelashes.
Dory stifled a laugh. “It is nice to see you again, Miss Dowder.”
“Oh, hello, Lady Dorothea. I did not see you there.”
It was a ridiculous lie, but Dory smiled. “I understand your sister is recently engaged to Mr. Gautier. You must be delighted for Sylvia.”
Something ugly flashed in Serena’s hazel eyes before she masked it with the bubbly smile Dory associated with both Dowder twins. “We are all thrilled with the match. Hunter is a fine gentleman.”
“If you ladies will excuse me?” Thomas stepped away.
“You won’t forget our dance, Mr. Wheel?” Serena called far lou
der than was necessary.
Thomas bowed. “I would not miss it.”
“He has been courting me,” Serena said.
A knot clogged Dory’s throat. “Has he?”
“Yes. I think I will have an offer from him soon. I know he has no title, but he is handsome and rich. My father will approve.” Her hair bounced as she nodded her own agreement.
The idea that she might be stealing Thomas away from another woman didn’t sit well with Dory. “How long has he been courting you?”
Serena was a wisp of a girl. Thin and tall, she cocked her head and put her finger on her chin. “It must be a year now. Maybe more.”
Thomas and Sophia were great friends, and Sophia had never mentioned that he was courting anyone let alone close to making an offer. “Is he attentive?”
“Not as much as I would like.” Serena sighed. The music started and she ran toward the other side of the room where Thomas spoke to Daniel.
With a bow, he offered Serena his arm and they found their place for the dance.
“Sometimes my sister is a bit too enthusiastic,” Sylvia said.
They danced well together. Dory wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. “Better that than to sit in the corner and wait.”
“Perhaps.” Sylvia smiled before turning back to the conversation with Mr. Gautier.
Chapter 3
His promise still haunted her thoughts the next day. “I will do my best to make you happy, Dorothea Flammel.” Dory wondered if her father had said the same to her mother before they married. If he had, had he meant it at the time? What had happened between her parents that change his desires from love to torment? Had her mother refused him too many times or had his eyes wandered elsewhere and his promises wandered as well?
She shook off these thoughts. “It doesn’t matter,” she said to her empty room. “I am not in love with Thomas Wheel, so he can never hurt me that way.”
“Did you say something, my dear?” Her mother asked from the doorway.
There was not a piece of lace in decorating her room. Frilly décor made her uncomfortable and too much like an average debutante. The green silk drapery around her bed shone in the late morning sun and her walls, stripped of pink, were covered with warm cream damask. Her desk was a sturdy little table and there was not a ribbon in sight. It held several pieces of music that had ink splatters and scratches all around. All frills were neatly tucked away and brought out only for adornment and fashion. She kept a small harp in the corner of the room and she played it each night to relax before bed.
Dory turned to find her mother standing just inside her room consulting a piece of foolscap and smiling. She had not overheard her daughter’s mutterings or she would not be so happy. With a sigh of relief, she said, “Nothing, Mother. Can I help you with something?”
“I was just making a list of tasks that will need to be done for your engagement ball. You will need a new gown, of course, and I thought I might have one as well.” She looked up from her list and smiled like a girl of sixteen. “I am the mother of the bride after all. Then we will need to have a new set of ear bobs for you. I adore you in emeralds. You like them, don’t you?”
“It is all a bit premature since there has been no formal engagement yet, Mother. How well do you know Lord Hartly?”
Margaret frowned, once again distracted from her list. “Know him? He is an earl, he is rich beyond your needs, and he wants you for his wife. What more do I need to know?”
“I had hoped to marry for love,” she lied.
Now her mother’s frown turned fierce. “Don’t be stupid, Dorothea. I raised you better than that. Love is for the poor and for fools like your friend Elinor.”
“You forget, Mother, that Elinor is a Duchess now,” Dory said.
Her mother huffed in disgust. “Raised to the rank. Not a family title and little money.”
“She still outranks you, Mother, and Kerburghe has done quite nicely in spite of a father who left his family near poverty. I heard they have three carriages.” Dory could have cared less about how many vehicles her friends owned, but she knew her mother would be impressed even though she’d never admit the fact.
Shrugging, Margaret said, “I will admit that His Grace has done better than I expected and that friend of yours snapped him up handily. She is more devious than I gave her credit for. However, this talk of love makes my skin crawl and I will have no more of it. We expect an offer from Lord Hartly before the week’s end and you shall be married at the end of the season.”
“He is a miserable little toad,” she said, keeping her temper simmering just below the surface.
Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “He is an Earl. You will be a Countess. You will do your duty to your family and marry where you are told and that will be that. Do you understand me, Dorothea?”
Anger filled her head with roaring but she kept her temper in check. She couldn’t let on about her plans. “I hear you fine, Mother. You are clear in the fact that my happiness is of no concern to you, as long as I marry a wealthy lord of the realm. The fact that he is wretched and lecherous is of no concern to you either.”
Margaret’s face softened. “Once you are married you can do as you wish. Don’t you see? Hartly is perfect. He will pay your father’s debts and be in the ground before long. After that, you will inherit a comfortable settlement and a nice piece of land in the country. I have been very specific in how you are to be taken care of after your husband’s death.”
She imagined that her eyes were as big as teacups. Not only had her mother planned her wedding to this horrible creature, she had also planned his funeral. She should have known there would be money exchanged. Her father never could manage his lands and his bad habits.
Her mother took her silence as agreement and went back to her list. “I was thinking you should be married in a light green to bring out the color of your eyes. I know you don’t like frills, but I think I shall have St. Georges sprayed with lilies.”
“Lilies seem appropriate.”
Margaret did not catch the sarcasm or did not care to connect the flower with funerals. She nodded and said, “I am planning our most fantastic ball this year in honor of your engagement, my dear. You will be the most celebrated debutante of the season.”
“I am sure it will be an event to remember, Mother.”
“Of course, it will and we have only a week to make all the preparations. Not much time at all.” She left the room still consulting her list.
Dory sat at her desk and pushed her musical compositions aside. She pulled out a piece of foolscap and wrote a quick note.
Sir,
My parents will announce my engagement before the end of the week. I apologize for the need for expedience but once an agreement is signed the damage shall be irreparable.
D.
With shaking hands, she sealed the note and asked a footman to deliver it within the hour.
* * * *
“You are going to do what?” Daniel Fallon, the Earl of Marlton asked in a pitch that hurt Thomas’s ears.
“I think you heard me well enough, Daniel.” Thomas accepted a note from his butler’s beefy hand. “Thank you, Crowly.”
Crowly bowed and left the room.
Daniel ran his hand through his dark blond hair, causing some of it to escape from the queue at the back of his skull. He looked rather mad as he rose and paced. The pacing was a joke within his circle. When they were young, Daniel’s title was imminent and they called this the “earl walk.” “You plan to elope with Dorothea Flammel, the daughter of an earl? Have you lost your mind?”
Thomas laughed, in part because he could not help but laugh every time Daniel did the “earl walk,” and also, he had to agree with his friend. “Maybe, but I cannot abide seeing her sold off to Hartly like a piece of chattel.”
“What do you mean, sold off?”
“After the lady came to me for help, I made some discreet inquiries, and learned that Flammel is deep in debt to Hartly. He has already paid him quite a tidy sum and the final payment is his only daughter’s hand in marriage.”
“Does Dorothea know this?” Daniel asked.
“I do not think so. She would have mentioned it.”
Daniel frowned. “I agree the business is distasteful, but marrying her seems extreme. This is a rather large gesture to make to a girl who is the sister of your friend. You will spend the rest of your life with the woman, Tom. Have you thought of that?”
He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “I have thought of everything. I must marry eventually. The lady is beautiful, talented, smart, and I like her more than most of the ninnies running around the London ton these days. She loves music as much as I do and I adore listening to her play. I don’t think it is a bad match for my part. She is the one who is stepping down. I am a mere mister and she could have been a countess. The lady came to me and not the other way around.”
“I know you find her intriguing, Tom. I am just concerned that your return to London will be less inconspicuous than you anticipate. This could ruin key relationships in your business dealings. Flammel may be an ass but he is an Earl and his word still holds sway in England. And Hartly…”
“Is a repugnant toad. Would you have me abandon Dory to that pig? You know his reputation. Even at his age he chases every skirt that crosses him. You saw the way he looked at your own wife at Bromley’s last night. My servants tell me he has impregnated no less than five of the girls on his staff and one this year. Tosses them to the street once they’re with child. I cannot allow her to be married to such an animal.” He pounded his fist on the desk.
Shaking his head Daniel heaved a sigh. “Will you go to Gretna then?”
“I think not. I don’t like the stink of gossip that comes along with marrying there.” Thomas broke the seal on the note Crowly delivered. He read it and frowned before pushing the missive aside. “It seems my plans must be completed with more expediency than expected. Flammel will sign an agreement before the week’s end.”
Desperate Bride Page 3
