“I suppose as you are a bachelor, they would have to be.” Along with her deep frown, there was a bitter twist in her voice.
He did not comment though her distaste was not lost on him.
She took a deep breath, making her full bosom rise.
Distracted for a moment, he then steeled himself and watched her eyes which he found equally intriguing.
She cleared her throat daintily. “I am in need of a husband and I have decided that, if you wouldn’t mind, you and I would suit very nicely.”
It took a full count for her words to penetrate his mind. “Perhaps earlier you didn’t understand my anger.” Anger rose again in his gut. He didn’t want to frighten her. “It would seem that I must be blunt. Are you with child?”
She picked up her chin. “I understood you just fine, Mr. Wheel. I am not with child nor have I been ruined. I just need to marry immediately.”
He sat back in his chair and scratched his chin where the late hour had left him with a shadow of a beard. He had never wanted anyone as he wanted Dorothea Flammel, but she was the unattainable. Now, here she was in his home offering herself to him. The idea of just saying yes and rushing off to Gretna Green rumbled through his mind, but doubt reared its head and he asked, “Why?”
Her brows drew together. “I suppose you have a right to know.” Her shoes were suddenly of particular interest to her and she stared down at them before shaking her head. Tearing at the seam of her cape, she pulled the threads loose until the fabric frayed. “My parents will sign a betrothal agreement for me in the next week.”
His stomach clenched. “To whom, if I may ask?”
Through clenched teeth, she said, “Lord Casper.”
Thomas jumped from his chair. “Henry Casper is old enough to be your grandfather. What are your parents thinking?”
She flinched but did not cower. “That I will be a countess.”
“There are other earls in the realm.”
“I’m afraid that I have refused quite a few offers of marriage.”
It was almost legend the number of offers that Lady Dorothea Flammel had turned down. A duke had even offered for her and reports indicated that she had broken his heart. “There must be someone left other than a man who walks with a cane and can no longer hear a word spoken.”
She stood up and pulled her cloak over her head. “I completely understand. You do not wish to marry or the idea of marrying me is repellent. Forgive me for taking up your time, Mr. Wheel.” She headed for the door.
He rushed over, took her arm, and turned her to face him. “I am honored by your offer, Lady Dorothea. I wish that I could help you. I am only Mr. Wheel. I have no right to marry so far from my station.”
Her face reddened. “I had no idea you were such a bigot, Mr. Wheel.”
“Thomas.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“My name is Thomas.”
His face was very close to hers. Her warm sweet scent filled his head with nonsense, a mixture of flowers and herbs.
“I…forgive me for the late intrusion. I am sorry.”
He did not release her. “Tell me one more thing, Lady Dorothea?”
“Dory, my name is Dory,” she said in a smoky voice while looking up at him.
It took every ounce of his control to keep him from sweeping her up in his arms and taking her to his bed. To hell with society and rules. “Why me?”
“I beg your pardon.”
He leaned in closer. “I am just curious as to why you chose me for this honor. You could have gone to any number of men who would jump at the chance to have you. I would like to know what made you come here.”
She pulled away from him. “You seemed the safest choice.”
He laughed so hard that the noise of it filled the room.
She flinched. “I do not mean to insult you.”
“I’m not insulted, Dory. I am just surprised that you would see me as a safe choice.” He continued to laugh.
Her eyes were again filling with tears.
The sight sobered him. “I’m sorry to laugh. I just don’t see anything safe about me being alone with you, my dear.”
She dashed the tears away. “I only meant that you would not intentionally hurt me. You have a reputation of being very kind to women and you like my music. I know that you would never stop me from playing or composing.”
His gut twisted. “Why would you have to stop?”
“Mother has long told me that once I am married, my music will have to be put aside. I have resisted marriage for the last five seasons so that I can continue to play.”
“Dory, I will give to two insights into men that you may not be aware of. First is that we are not all tyrants and the second is that not all men are like your father.”
Sorrow coursed through her eyes. “He lives to find ways to embarrass my mother in public. I’ll grant you that she is no treat to be around, but I think that she loved him once a long time ago. He is cruel beyond reason.”
“Not all men are like that.”
She shrugged. “I know. I do not think that you are like that. I know that when you take a mistress, you will be discrete. You would never cause me undue pain. That is why you would suit so well.”
Slowly, he made his way across the room to where she stood with her arms wrapped around her middle. His hand seemed to move of its own accord and reached out and touched the skin where her shoulder met her neck. It was like silk under his fingers. “What makes you think that I would take a mistress?”
“All men do eventually. At least you would be kind about it.” She pulled away from his touch.
“I must repeat myself, Dory, all men are not like your father.”
Waving off his comment, she met his gaze. “Will you help me?”
How he wished he could. “What is your plan?”
Turning, she faced him. “I would like to leave for Gretna Green in the next day or two. It is best to not tell anyone. I have not even let on to Sophia and Elinor about my plans.”
Sophia and Elinor were married to two of his closest friends and were Dory’s long time confidants. It was incredible that she would not share something so monumental with her best friends.
“I know that I can trust them but I thought it best not to put them in an awkward position. It’s not fair.”
He sat on a small chair near the fire. He’d always hated the seat as he was too big for it and it was meant for a lady. He curled his long legs under, leaned his elbow on one knee and his chin on his fist. “Once we were married, how would we get along in this plan of yours?”
“What do you mean?”
“Would you share my bed?” He turned to find her standing only a few feet away.
She flinched “It would seem the least I could do.”
There was no humor in his laugh. Knowing he couldn’t have her, did not stop him from enjoying the moment of fantasy. “Not exactly the romantic image a man hopes for.”
She stood directly in front of him. “You may have me now if you wish.” Her voice trembled.
His groin immediately responded to her offer. He put his hands on her hips and leaned his head against her stomach.
Trembling, she stood her ground.
He was sure she would actually allow him to deflower her. “Oh, Dory, you do tempt me.”
Tentatively, she touched his hair. “I think I heard a ‘but’ coming next.”
He looked up at her perfect face.
Her hand was still in his hair moving in tiny circles. It was an innocent touch but very erotic at the same time. Any touch from her would have had that effect he suspected.
Forcing a smile, he only wanted to ease her fear of him. “But it would be beneath both of us to make love here in my study without a marriage to make it legal.”
“Are you saying that you will marry me?” No joy bubbled in her voice at the notion. She sounded more like a death sentence had been averted and sh
e would only suffer life in prison.
He took her hands out of his hair and kissed the back of one and then the other. So she could sit in the chair, he stood and pulled another chair from a few feet away. He sat so close their knees almost touched.
“I hope you will forgive me, Dory, but my answer is no. I cannot believe I am saying it myself. If you truly wished to be my wife, that would make me quite happy, but like this, it is less than romantic. In fact, if borders on the morbid.”
She frowned. “I could have come to you with lies and told you I was madly and rapturously in love with you and could not live without you another moment. Would that have altered your decision?”
“It might have.”
A furrow appeared between her brows.
Thomas reached out and smoothed the wrinkle. “I am glad you did not try to mislead me, Dory. I wish I could help you. For the first time in my life I wish that I was a lord or a knight so that I would be worthy of your hand. However, my station is to be a gentleman and yours a countess. It would be selfish of me to lower your status in society.”
Fisting her hands, she sat back. “I do not give a damn about titles. I’m to be married to a lecherous old man who will keep me as a trophy and perhaps allow me to play a bit of pianoforte to entertain his friends. Everything I have ever wanted will be tossed aside. My mother will do as she has always threatened and burn all of my music.” She leaned forward and touched his face. “Everything that I am, is about to be ripped from me. Can you understand, Thomas?”
He put his hand over hers and kissed her palm. “I think you are overwrought and have exaggerated the situation. I have never heard anything violent about Henry Casper. I’ll admit he is a bit old for you, but he’s rich and lives well and you will be provided for in the fashion to which you have been raised.”
“You’re rich,” she said.
He laughed. “I have some funds, but I am not titled and I never shall be.”
“I had no idea you were such a snob, Thomas. If I do not care about a title, then why should you?”
“You should care as well, Dory. I will admit that my association with Marlton and now with Kerburghe has afforded me more invitations than most gentlemen of my station receive, but I fear you would find life as Mrs. Wheel very unappealing.”
“Are you a man with a terrible temper?” she asked.
Surprised by the question, he sat up straighter. “I do not think so.”
“Would you keep your wife from pursuing her own goals?”
“I do not believe so, as long as the goals did not put her in harm’s way.”
“So if I wanted to join the fire brigade you would be opposed to that venture?” Her eyes narrowed but she did not smile.
He shook his head. “The fire brigade would be quite a dangerous endeavor, and I certainly would advise my wife against such foolishness.”
“Yes,” she said. “You do sound like a tyrant. I think it is obvious that we would not suite.” She squared her shoulders and stood.
He stood with her. “I do not believe that you have thought this through.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You believe that I am impulsive and rash?”
A small voice inside his head told him he should be very careful with his next words, but he ignored the voice. “In this decision you seem to have jumped before looking.”
Pursing her lips, she nodded. “Do you know what it takes to play the pianoforte as I do?”
The question was so out of context he was stunned into answering. “I believe that I do. I have tried to become more accomplished and my own talent has limited me.”
“Have you sat for hours at a piano to achieve perfection in one stanza?”
“I have,” he admitted.
“I have not heard you play, Thomas. I am told that you are quite accomplished, and I have heard you say that you are not. I suspect that you play very well but have not been gifted with that something which makes one musician stand out among the rest.”
He hated that she was absolutely correct.
“I do not mean to insult you. It is just fate that makes one person good and another great. A cruel joke, if you will. I am cursed by being a woman. If I were a man with the talent that god gave me, I would be playing to massive crowds and kings would be sponsoring me. Not that this is what I want really. I just want to be allowed to play every day for the rest of my life. I am not the kind of person who jumps in without looking. I have been analyzing my options for weeks. I examined it as I would a new piece of music. I was methodical. I was patient. You were not a whim of mine to get me out of trouble. I truly believe that we could make a nice marriage.”
“Nice,” he repeated in the same monotone she gave her speech.
“There is nothing wrong with nice.”
He closed the distance between them.
Her chest heaved.
“Nice is not good enough for me.” His arm came around her waist and in spite of the twelve-inch difference in their heights, his lips were on hers before she could protest. She was stiff in his arms, but she put her hands on his shoulders and did not push away. He wanted to thrust his tongue in her mouth and taste her sweetness but he was also patient. He caressed her lips with his, taking small sips. He ran his hand up and down her side from her hip to the edge of her breast. He didn’t touch her anywhere that was too intimate but after a minute she softened in his arms.
A little sigh escaped her lips and Thomas took the opportunity to lightly brush the inside of her lips with his tongue.
She gasped and he plunged inside. Her tongue was less forceful, but she joined him in the pleasure of the kiss.
Nipping at her lips, he looked down at her. “I will think about everything you have said tonight, my lady. I am also cautious and like to give a large decision my full attention before jumping in.”
He released her.
Confusing straining her pretty lips, Dory straitened her dress. He thought that was not a bad start.
“May I ask why you are so hesitant?”
“Shall I be completely honest?” he asked.
“I would prefer that you were always honest with me.”
He adored that she wanted honesty and wondered if she understood what it meant to always be so. “I am very fond of you, Dorothea. I have long thought you are one of the most beautiful and talented women in London. I think what you propose opens you up to a rather large scandal. Elopement is bad enough but to run off with someone who is beneath you in station, could be a scandal you would not recover from.”
“I am not concerned with scandal,” she protested.
“Well, I am. I think not being invited to the most fashionable homes in London would make you very unhappy. I would not want my wife to be unhappy.”
“That is very kind of you, but I am willing to risk censure to have a life that includes my music.”
Wishing she would say something more romantic would not make it so. “I would like a wife who wanted me for something other than my love of music. I am also concerned by your apathy toward a romantic involvement.”
“I had no idea you were such a romantic, Thomas.” She tugged the edges of her cape around her.
His fingers itched to pull her back against him and take all that she offered, but the damned voice of reason kept his hands at his sides. “Nor had I, but I find the idea of a wife whose only interest in me is escaping a worse situation a bit abhorrent.” He held up his hand to stop her from further comment. “However, that kiss we just shared was not apathetic nor were you uninterested. I wonder if helping you would not also suit my own desires.”
Her eyes widened. “I already told you, I would share your bed.”
When he touched her cheek, she leaned against his hand. “Oh, Dory, I wish you could believe that all men are not cut from the same cloth as your father.”
She shrugged.
“Perhaps in time you will learn differently.” He brushed a single tear
away from her lashes.
Straightening, she stepped away from him. “My parents will announce my betrothal in less than a fortnight at Mother’s ball.”
He bowed deeply. “You will have my answer before then.”
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A.S. Fenichel gave up a successful IT career in New York City to follow her husband to Texas and pursue her lifelong dream of being a professional writer. She’s never looked back. Multi-published in erotic paranormal, erotic contemporary, Regency historical romance and historical paranormal romance, A.S. will be bringing you her brand of romance for many years to come. A.S. loves to hear from her readers. Be sure to write visit her website at asfenichel.com, find her on Facebook, and follow her on Twitter.
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