Desperate Bride

by A. S. Fenichel

  In the hallway, she stopped several times and he had to nudge her along.

  Crowly stood outside the formal parlor and opened the door as they approached.

  No turning back now.

  Like a warrior, she pulled her shoulders back and tipped her chin up before entering.

  He had no right, but pride filled him as it never had for any other person. She faced her fears more boldly than most soldiers. Magnificent.

  Geoffrey Flammel leaned against the wall near the fireplace as if he might fall without the extra support. He still wore his morning coat and had his ascot tied in an intricate knot. His nose and cheeks burned bright red and he flexed his fingers and fisted them over and over.

  Margaret Flammel sat on the settee with her hands folded in her lap. Her mild expression continued as she regarded her daughter from head to toe. “You look well, Dorothea.”

  Dory made a curtsy then kissed her mother’s cheek. “Thank you, Mother. It was kind of you to call.” She turned to her father. “Hello, Father.”

  Castlereagh grunted and stared at Thomas, who had stayed near the door. He stepped forward and bowed to Margaret. “How do you do, Lady Castlereagh?”

  Dory sat next to her mother. “I hope you are well.”

  “Tolerably so. Your father is under the weather but insisted on calling today. I suggested he remain home, but as you see.”

  “I do as I please, and the rest of you be damned.”

  “Can you stay for tea, Mother?”

  “That would be very nice.”

  Thomas held up a hand, stopping Dory from leaving her mother’s company. “I will make the necessary arrangements.”

  “I have heard you tend toward women’s work.” His lordship wobbled away from the stability of the wall.

  “Geoffrey, please sit down before you fall and hurt yourself,” Margaret said. She rolled her eyes.

  Not offended, Thomas stifled the laugh building. “I think our definitions of ‘women’s work’ might differ, my lord.” Stepping to the door, he instructed Crowly to call for tea.

  “Is that why you have a gorilla for a butler? Need someone to do the manly work for you?” Geoffrey’s speech slurred and he wobbled on his feet.

  “Father, that is enough.”

  “Not nearly. This man is a thief.” He pointed one bony finger at Thomas. “You’ve married beneath you and to a man known to be a conniving sneak who tore through the underbelly of France. You think him a hero, but he did not stand and fight. He crept around and skulked in dark corners. You cannot imagine what you have aligned yourself with.”

  Dory stood. “I am not property to be sold or stolen.”

  Margaret touched Dory’s arm. “It is all right, Dory. He is in his cups, and what is done is done. Let him have his say.”

  Geoffrey stormed across the room with his arm raised. “I am the injured party. I am owed compensation.”

  Thomas stepped in front of the ladies before the earl could reach them. He wasn’t sure what his intentions were with his arm raised to strike, but he would take no chances. Margaret had remained calm, but Dory flinched at her father’s approach. That his Dory might have suffered abuse, beyond the emotional he already knew about, filled him with rage. “You will control yourself in my home, my lord, or you will remove yourself. I understand you are distressed. I cannot blame you. It was a shock to find out that Dorothea and I eloped. However, under the circumstances we felt we had little choice.”

  “I do not give a damn about how you felt. I was about to sign a contract with Lord Hartly. You do not know what you have done. I will be ruined because of you.” He stuck his finger out, only an inch from Thomas’s nose, and then looked at Dory. “And you have ruined your mother and brother as well. You will leave the entire family destitute rather than do your duty. Your mother raised you to be a hellion. This is your fault, Margaret, never controlling her willfulness.”

  “I see, Father. Everyone is at fault except you. You are blameless in all of this.”

  “I…” He stumbled, grasped for the high-backed chair to his left, and missed. Geoffrey hit the floor like a sack of potatoes and lay still.

  Crowly entered.

  Thomas turned to the ladies. “Tea will arrive in a few minutes. I will put his lordship in the next room on the couch where he will be more comfortable and rejoin you in a moment.”

  Dory’s face blushed bright but she managed a tight smile.

  Thomas and Crowly lifted Castlereagh and carried him to the small parlor.

  The earl never stirred, but his breathing was even and strong.

  Instead of returning, Thomas gave the women a few minutes to talk. He was sure they had much to say and didn’t want to intrude too soon. When the maid arrived with the tea, he followed her in. “His lordship is resting comfortably. Those biscuits look delicious.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Wheel,” Margaret said.

  He snatched a biscuit from the tray and bowed to his mother-in-law. “As we are family now, I would be honored if you would call me Thomas, or just Wheel if you prefer.”

  Her lips twitched in a quick and rare smile before settling back into her normal stoic mask. Turning her attention to her tea, she looked over the cup rim at Dory. “I noticed you took your lap harp with you.”

  “Yes, Mother. If you wish it returned, I will have a footman put it in your carriage.”

  He hated the way Dory’s voice shook and yearned to pull her into his arms and comfort her.

  Margaret waved a hand. “No. It is yours. It is not as if your father would ever notice it missing. If you would like any other of your instruments, I shall have them sent over.”

  A tear slid down Dory’s cheek. “My husband has a lovely array of fine instruments. I shall not lack for music.”

  “That is good to hear. I know how important your music is to you.”

  They spoke more like acquaintances than mother and daughter.

  Markus was a warm, caring friend, but how he became that man was a mystery. It only just occurred to Thomas that all through school, Markus never spoke of his parents, though he often bragged about his sister and brother.

  Thomas would do anything to end the misery Dory endured after a lifetime with these people.

  Dory placed her teacup on the table. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I would like to have my flute and the metronome from the pianoforte.”

  “I will have them sent over tomorrow.” Margaret put her cup down and stood, forcing Thomas and Dory to stand as well.

  “You are leaving?” Dory kept her tone level, but a touch of panic hid behind her question.

  Smoothing her skirts, Margaret nodded. “I have what I came for. You are well and in good hands. I know your father is angry about his losses, but I am glad you are not married to that old man, even if he would have given you a title. You will do well as Mrs. Wheel.”

  Thomas said, “I thought you wanted Dorothea married to a peer of the realm? If I would have suited all along, why did you push the marriage to Hartly?”

  “Of course I wanted my only daughter to make a good match. That was my duty to her and to my husband. If she had accepted any of the perfectly fine offers she had in the last five years, all would have been well. However, what is done is done and you are a very wealthy man, Mr. Wheel. You are not titled and that is unfortunate, but Dorothea must have gone to great lengths to secure you in marriage and avoid the arrangement with Hartly. My liking the outcome is beside the point. I do not wish to lose my daughter completely. You must do as a son-in-law.”

  So much of what she said was offensive, he was at a loss for how to respond and remain a gentleman. “I suppose I should thank you, madam, but I find that difficult to do. I am glad for Dory’s sake you will remain a part of our lives.”

  Margaret’s lips twitched in half a smile. “An adequate response.”r />
  He bowed.

  Dory blushed and shifted from foot to foot. “I am sure this is all difficult for you, Mother. I appreciate you coming here and not making a scene.”

  “I leave the scenes to your father. Wheel, if you will have a footman put his lordship in the carriage, I will take him home to rest.”

  Thomas bowed. “Do you need me to send a footman along to help you into your home?”

  “No. The staff knows how to deal with these situations.”

  Dory took her mother’s hand. “I am glad you came.”

  Margaret’s stare lasted several beats longer than was natural. Perhaps she was steeling her emotions or deciding if more needed saying. “I am as well.”

  Neither woman was willing or able to force out the words that needed saying.

  Thomas backed away on a bow and instructed Crowly to load his lordship as discreetly as possible.

  As soon as the front door closed with her parents on the outside, Dory stumbled over to a small stool in the corner of the foyer and sank onto it.

  With one look, Thomas cleared the staff from the area. He knelt in front of her. “Whatever else transpired today, Dory, you must see how your mother cares for your wellbeing.”

  She dashed away several tears. “Yes. I only wish she was loving like Sophia’s and Elinor’s mothers. I yearn for a conversation with her that leaves me feeling good and happy instead of tired and incomplete.”

  His heart broke for her, but he pushed away the emotion. “Wanting a person to be different than they are is a waste of your energy. She is who she is and neither you nor anyone else will change her. Wanting what she cannot give only sets your mother up to fail time and time again. It is not fair to her and is detrimental to you. Accept her. What she did here today could not have been easy for her. You and I broke all her precious rules and yet she is happy for you because she believes you are in a better situation than she could provide. Your mother loves you, Dory.”

  “I suppose, in her way, she does.”

  A change of subject was in order. “We talked about paying a visit to my mother in the country. Shall we go in a few weeks? Perhaps you might invite your brother Adam to join us there. I imagine he might like it more than a trip home.”

  She stared into his eyes for a long moment tears brimming her bottom lids. “You are a nice man.”

  He laughed. “You sound surprised. Was it not you who proposed to me?”

  “No. Not surprised as much as—never mind. I think Adam would be happy to spend his break with us. Markus often invites him, but he still grieves for Emma, and with the baby he has enough to deal with.”

  He wished she would have finished her original sentence. Other than knowing she would never love him, he did not know how she felt. If she could like him, it might be enough. Maybe. His chest was on fire with his own wants and desires. It was too much. “I must get back to work. Will you be all right?”

  She stood and he followed to his feet.

  Swallowing down whatever else she might have said, she met his gaze. “I am fine. Thank you for your kindness to my parents. I know they are difficult and you were a perfect gentleman, even with Father. I will rest until dinner unless you require me for something.”

  Required her for something. He ached for her body pressed to his and to bury himself deep inside her softness. “You should rest. I will see you at dinner.”

  He waited at the bottom of the stairs as she climbed and turned down the hallway out of sight. Another ache tore at his heart.

  * * * *

  Tom wished he could ease her worry as he watched Dory fuss with the lace on her gown. She would tear the delicate material before the carriage reached the Marlton townhouse.

  He covered her hand with his. “Relax. These are our friends.”

  “Yes. I know. I am being ridiculous.” Pulling her hand away, she sighed then smoothed her skirt.

  Appearing in public as Mrs. Thomas Wheel could not be easy for her after being Lady Dorothea Flammel all her life.

  The carriage pulled to a stop. London evenings were growing cooler. Thomas waved off the footman and jumped down to offer Dory a hand down.

  Thanking him, she took his arm and held her head high as they walked up the stoop.

  The dinner party was lively, with more people present than Thomas had anticipated. He stifled a groan as Serena Dowder skipped over to them.

  “Mr. Wheel, how wonderful to see you. I suppose I must wish you felicitations on your marriage.” She curtsied.

  Thomas bowed. “Of course, you know my wife, Dorothea Wheel.”

  Serena took Dory’s arm and pulled her away. “I know we shall be even better friends now that you are married, Mrs. Wheel. It sounds so strange to call you that. It must be odd to hear it.”

  Daniel crossed the room and shook Thomas’s hand. “I am glad you are here. I hope you do not mind that we invited a few people outside our usual crowd.”

  “I appreciate the invitation, Dan. I was worried we would receive none and Dory would be bored to death with only me for entertainment.” They walked into the parlor and Daniel poured him a brandy.

  Keeping an eye on Dory, he hated the frown she wore. Whatever the Dowder girl was saying, it was not pleasing.

  Dinner was pleasant, though Dory sat at the other end of the long table. It was customary to seat married couples apart. Sophia did not usually adhere to the London dogma, but she was playing it by the book that evening. Probably to ensure no scandal would be attached to Dory and his married debut.

  Miles Hallsmith was an amiable fellow and he chatted about his horse breeding operation throughout dinner. Why Sophia had to seat her brother, Anthony, next to Dory, Tom couldn’t understand. He thought Sophia was his friend. Her brother was far too good-looking to spend time with Dory, and yet he always seemed to be there, churning up jealousy. Until she proposed to him, Thomas hadn’t been jealous since he was a boy.

  “Are you all right, Wheel?” Miles asked.

  “Yes. Fine. How many foals do you have this year?” Tom turned away from Dory and forced himself not to look back.

  Miles grinned. “Seven, and all fine stock. Do you think you might like to take a look?”

  “Maybe. I have some other prospects with my land and the Westgrove lands. I need to sort that out before I consider more livestock.”

  “No rush. I do not want to take them from their mothers just yet anyway. Write me if you wish to make the trip to the country and see them.”

  “Thank you, Hallsmith. I will in a few months.”

  The remains of the evening went quickly, even though Dory was whisked away from him at every turn. Even after when they gathered for cake, that silly Serena Dowder pulled her into a corner and the two talked in hushed tones.

  Dory stared out the window on the ride home, her expression mild and unreadable.

  “Are you all right, Dory?”

  “Fine.” She sighed.

  “What were you and Miss Dowder talking about so intimately?”

  “You.” She turned on the bench and stared at him. Eyes glowing in the moonlight, she was like a goddess.

  “Me? What could Serena Dowder have to say about me?”

  “She was wishing us well and saying how she thought it grand that you chose me as she was not certain that you and she would have suited at all. Your affections for her were clearly faint at best.”

  His gut twisted. “My affections for her? I have no affection for that ninny.”

  “Her father is wealthy and titled. She has a hefty dowry. You could have done much worse.” Dory tugged the lace on her skirt.

  “I suppose that is true, but I never had any intention of offering for her. Nor did I make any overtures that might have given the girl the impression I would.”

  Dory shrugged. “She saw it differently.”

 
“Clearly. But it is irrelevant. I am your husband and that will not change.” He meant to reassure her, but his annoyance with Serena Dowder rang in his tone and it came out harsh and cold.

  “Indeed.” The carriage stopped and she rushed to the door before Thomas could help her down.

  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.”