Feminine laughter trilled toward him.
By the time he reached the opposite end, Jimmie celebrated his victory and Dorothea was gasping for breath. She laughed so hard she held her stomach with one hand and Gertie reached for the baby bouncing in her arms.
Getting up, he brushed off his clothes.
Sarah stared up at him. “See. Too big.”
He scooped her into his arms and tickled her tummy. “You think I am too big?”
Wiggling and giggling, Sarah hugged him around the neck. Sunshine and grass mixed and wafted from her, as he’d expect. For the first time in his life, he longed for children of his own.
Gertie called for them to come do their lessons.
Thomas knelt in the grass and placed Sarah on her sturdy little legs. “Learn all there is, little one. I see big things for you.”
Her eyes matched the sky but ringed with dark lashes. Chestnut curls stood out in every direction. She patted his cheek and followed it with a wet kiss on the other before toddling toward the nanny.
Thomas’s heart clenched. What had Jimmie and Sarah endured before they found a home at Kerburghe? They had lost their parents in a fire, a test of courage for anyone, let alone two children. Dory walked toward him, so he stood.
She bit her bottom lip ready to burst out laughing. “You shall need to practice if you are to compete with that bunch.”
Gertie bustled the four children toward the castle door.
Grabbing Dory around the waist, he jerked her tight to his body. “Are you saying I am not a good tumbler? As my wife, you’re supposed to root for me.”
A joyful bubble of laughter escaped her luscious lips. “I have failed miserably then. I was hoping Sarah would make a run for the win.”
He leaned in. “I had the same hope myself.”
Laughing together sparked the most dangerous thing inside Thomas. Hope. He married her because he wanted her and couldn’t bear to see Hartly touch her. His own feelings had grown with such speed, his head spun. Dare he dream she could ever love him? Warnings rang in his head. He released her. “Shall we collect my clothes and resume our walk?”
An instant of confusion passed over her face before she steeled her expression. “Of course.”
* * * *
The curve of the lap harp in his arms was not as unnatural as he’d expected. Sensuous in a way a pianoforte could never be, he liked the feel of it as he practiced the motions Dory had shown him. Unlike the other instruments he’d played, the harp vibrated harmonically from the first stroke. It was not music, but the sound pleased the ear even from his unskilled hands.
“You are doing well.” Dory entered from the dressing room. Her chemise and wrap left little hidden.
His body bolted to attention. “I have a good teacher.”
“Try the chords I showed you.”
He obeyed, producing the chords one by one as she’d shown him the night before. “Do you think you might like to teach music?”
Grabbing the edges of her wrap, she turned toward him. “You mean besides teaching you the harp?”
“You are a very good teacher.” He demonstrated several chords together and produced a lovely phrase.
“Are we in need of additional income, Tom?”
He put the harp aside, stood and took her hands. “No. Our financial situation is good. I thought you might enjoy teaching.”
“I have never considered the notion. Ladies do not take on a profession, they do not play all day without regard to their duties, and they do not compose concertos when their households require attention.”
“Your mother, I presume.”
“Yes.”
“May I make a suggestion?”
She nodded.
“I propose we have a different kind of life together. I know there are rules that society expects and as part of that society we are obligated to comply, but I am happier when I ignore those mandates.”
Hands flat against his chest, she pushed away. “I am not sure what you mean.”
Keeping his hands on her hips, he didn’t let her go far. “I mean that if you wish to teach music, you should do so. If you take a notion to apply to the Royal Academy, you will have my full support. If I gave a damn about what society thinks, we would not be here in Scotland as husband and wife, sweetheart.”
“May I be honest?” She gazed at his chest, his nose and over his shoulder, but not in his eyes.
“Always.”
“I have never considered the possibilities beyond playing and writing at home. Of course, occasionally I wonder what if I was a man.”
“And, what if you had been born a man? Though I shudder at the idea.”
Her cheeks pinked as he’d hoped. “I would be playing for kings and queens.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Not really, but do you not think it interesting as a woman I am locked out of certain avenues and as a man I would be locked in to the very same? I doubt that would have made me happy either. I believe I would hate to be commanded to play at the whim of a sovereign.”
“A very astute observation. You have an uncanny ability to place yourself in another’s shoes, Dory. Most people do not share the ability or the desire.”
“Elinor’s influence, I imagine. She has always been empathetic and I have always been self-absorbed. I will give your idea some thought, Tom. I enjoy teaching you. Perhaps there is a less selfish path for me and the music.”
He kissed her cheek just under her left eye. “What you can do is a gift and no more selfish than the nightingale’s song. Your mother has done you a disservice by attaching guilt to the thing that has made you different and special. Perhaps she did so out of an effort to protect you, or maybe she is jealous of your talents. Either way, you are a grown woman and must overcome those backward ideals.”
Wide-eyed she stared back at him. He’d expected her to defend her mother, but she didn’t agree or disagree. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. “I think I am a lucky woman to have married you.”
His shaft tightened to full alert. He lifted her into his arm and carried her to the bed.
Chapter 10
Dory sipped her tea while Elinor nattered on about the children’s artwork. Not that Dory didn’t care about how talented Sarah was, but she was distracted by the half-scolding from Thomas. What an odd man she had married. His views were nothing like the rest of the ton. He cared little for the rules that governed their lives. Though he had turned down her proposal at first, citing the ruin of reputations if they married. She couldn’t figure him out and usually people were easy to read.
“Are you listening to a word I am saying?” Elinor tucked a strand of pale blond hair behind her ear. The high-backed chair surrounded her like a throne in her private parlor. The upstairs, which had been converted into a ladies’ parlor, was close to the nursery. Elinor had checked in on the children several times since they’d come in for tea.
“I am sorry, Elinor. I was thinking.” Placing her cup and saucer on the inlaid wood table, she focused on her friend.
Elinor put her own cup aside. Flouncing back into her chair, she grinned and pinked. “About your husband?”
Dory traced the damask rose pattern on the settee cushion. The afternoon sun shone in the window filling the room with light and warmth. “He is very kind, far more so than I had expected.”
“You proposed to a man you were not certain would be kind to you?” Elinor stared with wide eyes.
“Do not say I proposed. It makes me sound desperate.”
“But you did propose, Dory. And, if you are honest, you were desperate to do so.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
Elinor nodded. “Didn’t you think he would be kind?”
“I hoped he would be, but to be honest, anyone would have been better than the
curmudgeon my parents had picked.” She shuddered at the thought of being married to Hartly.
“Thomas seems quite taken with you, Dory.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He is kind and so he saved me. He is making the best of the situation, just as I am.”
“Actually, I thought him smitten with you long before you married. He has watched you for some time.” Elinor smoothed her skirts and swung her legs.
“It is only the music that interests him. I am not even sure why he married me besides the that he loves to hear me play.” She put up the familiar walls that kept her safe her entire life. Dangerously close to exposing herself, the conversation with Elinor rang her warning bells.
“I think he is interested in more than your music.” Elinor narrowed her eyes. “If I had to guess, I would say you like him, Dory.”
“Of course I like him. He is a nice man and a gentleman. Why wouldn’t I like him?” Her heart pounded and a lump formed in her throat. No one would ever hurt her the way her parents had. She had trusted them, loved them, and they had sold her off at the first sign of trouble. Love was not for her.
“I have known you all our lives and never seen you take to anyone the way you have Thomas. Perhaps you might be in love with him?” Elinor leaned forward with her elbows on her knees.
Love would only lead to disaster. “No. I am not like you, Elinor. It is not possible for me to fall in love. I must be content to have a husband who treats me with kindness and respects my art. More than that is impossible with Thomas Wheel. I do not love him and I never will.”
* * * *
Thomas had only intended to pop in on the ladies and tell his wife he was going for a ride with Michael and would see her at dinner. The nature of their conversation had halted his progress. He should have announced his presence, but found himself rooted to the space just outside the door of the parlor eavesdropping like a spy. That was what he was or, at least, what he had been.
“I do not love him and I never will.”
Her conversation echoed against his heart and twisted until the pain was unbearable.
He walked away. Had anything ever hurt more than knowing Dory would never love him? He could remember a dozen war wounds, which were mere scratches compared to the pain tearing at him. What had he expected? His marriage came about for reasons having nothing to do with romance. She needed an escape and he loved to hear her play. They each had an agenda in which love was irrelevant. Still, hearing her say it burned like an iron poker just out of the flame.
He stormed through the house, out the front door, and to the barn.
“What in the hell is wrong with you?” Michael tightened his saddle.
The gray stomped and blew out his nose.
“Nothing is wrong. Why would you ask?” Thomas took the reins from the groom who led a chestnut mare out of the stone building.
Michael mounted. “You have the look of a man about to gut someone. Did something happen in the last thirty minutes I should know about?”
“No. At least not anything I was not prepared for. I was acting the fool and now I see the light. I will not make the same mistake again.” He adjusted the stirrups and tightened the saddle. Giving the horse a pat along her neck soothed both the beast and his own pounding heart. There was something calming about horses.
“Care to elaborate?”
Mounting, Thomas gazed across the field to the north. The harvest was done and the ground lay dormant for spring planting. “I overheard our wives talking and learned more than I bargained for.”
Michael shook his head and nudged his horse away from the stable. “Eavesdropping is a bad habit and one you should endeavor to break if you do not intend to work for his majesty in the future.”
“I know, but I had hoped to gain insight into my wife. She is difficult to read. Always so guarded.” He followed, walking his horse along a path that circled to the west of the field.
“And what you learned put that scowl on your face?”
“She does not love me nor will she ever. I was a fool to expect anything different. Ours was never a love match. She needed help and being smitten by her charms and talent I complied. In the last few days I thought we had developed a mutual affection, but I was mistaken.” He shrugged and urged his mount into a trot.
Michael pulled alongside. “Perhaps it was just more of her guardedness, Tom. Do not give up hope. She seems to like you. Elinor describes Dorothea as cynical and damaged. Her parents are both selfish nightmares who think of nothing but themselves. Going off to school saved Markus. You know that. He had us to protect him. You must remember how different he was whenever forced to spend time with his mother and father. It would take weeks to bring him back from their influence. I pity Dorothea with no means of escape for all those years.”
“More reason for me to keep my emotions in check. She might not be capable of reciprocation.” The idea broke his heart but it didn’t make it less true. It didn’t change what he’d heard in that parlor.
“Maybe it means you need to use more patience and caring. She has had little affection in her life, Tom. Elinor is the only constant in her life who has not demanded and destroyed. I would imagine her faith in people is tentative at best.” They trotted along the path between the field and a small stand of trees.
“So, you suggest I risk my heart?”
Michael pulled his horse back to a walk. “That depends.”
Slowing down, Thomas turned in the saddle to meet his gaze. “On what?”
“Do you love her?”
The idea pounded in his head like the report of a bullet in a valley. Did he love her? Was it too late to save himself from the pain she could inflict? Her father was selfish and ruthless and her mother cross and bitter. Dory’s beauty blinded him to many of those same traits. Yet when she played, her emotions lay her bare to her soul. “There are times when I think I do.”
Michael raised an eyebrow. “Either you love her or you do not. One does not love from time to time.”
She had injured him with the words not meant for him to hear. Her ability to inflict injury must mean he cared. Not ready to admit more to Michael or himself, he kicked his horse into a gallop.
* * * *
“I think we should return to London tomorrow, if that will suit you.” Thomas interrupted her harp playing.
“Did something happen during your ride with his grace?” His distance since returning from his ride had sent up warning flags in Dory.
“No. It seems a good time to go back and face the music, as it were.” He nodded to the harp.
Her gut twisted and her shaking hand vibrated on the strings. She put the harp aside. They had planned to stay in Scotland for another week. Her parents had not come to find her, which wasn’t surprising. “If that is what you wish, I have no objection.”
He removed his cravat, placed it over the back of the chair near the hearth, and then leaned against the back of the chair. “Our marriage will keep you safe from you parents’ plans. I see no reason to delay. The deed is done.”
“Fine.” Their life as a married couple in Scotland had been so pleasant, she dreaded returning to the realities of London.
“Frankly, I am surprised your parents have not found us here. I would have expected them to come here after Gretna Green. After all, my friendship with his grace is well known.” None of the warmth she associated with Thomas lived in his matter-of-fact delivery.
She stood. “I am sure they had better things to do than chase after me.”
“So it would seem.” His eyes softened for a moment before returning to the hard stare.
“Have I done something to upset you, Tom?” Stepping forward, she touched his hand where it lay on the blue upholstered chair.
As if burned, he pulled back. “Of course not. It’s just time to go home. I have a few things to take care of before I come to b
ed. We will leave at first light. I suggest you try to sleep.”
She stared at his back as he retreated from the room. The ache in her chest intensified and she stumbled back into the chair. Reality had finally barreled its way back into her life. She’d been a fool to believe even for an instant it would be any different in her marriage than it was in her father’s house. Marriages like what her friends enjoyed were rare. Cool disinterest was more common among the ton. Desperation had led her down the path and now she would make the best of it. She dashed away the tears that had escaped and rang for her maid.
* * * *
Two days in a carriage with a man bent on not speaking to her was unbearable. The Thomas who smiled with his eyes and touched her at every opportunity was gone. A stoic, soldier-like man sat in his place.
“I don’t expect we will receive many invitations. Do you have a busy schedule when we get back to your townhouse?” London loomed in the distance from the carriage window.
“I have a business to run, Dorothea. You may do as you please. Compose and play at will. I have a very fine pianoforte.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “You should be able to entertain yourself.”
It should have sounded like heaven. Play and compose, wasn’t that what she’d always wanted? Thomas Wheel offered her the dream and yet it came across as a prison sentence. Disappointment pushed up from deep in her gut where she had been keeping it in check. “Clearly, you are angry with me.”
He opened his mouth.
She held up a hand to stop his lies. “I cannot listen to you lie again, so please spare me the everything-is-fine speech you have been making for the last few days. I do not know what I have done to upset you, so I cannot mend the situation. At some point, if the fancy strikes you, and you wish to tell me, I will listen. Until then, I agree, we should live our individual lives. As I said, it is unlikely we shall receive any callers or invitations beyond our small circle of close friends, so our need to be in each other’s company should be limited. I thank you for rescuing me. I will always be grateful for what you have sacrificed.”
Desperate Bride Page 11
