Something Old

by Rebecca Connolly

  Cornwall Brides

  Book One

  REBECCA CONNOLLY

  Also by

  Rebecca Connolly

  The Arrangements:

  An Arrangement of Sorts

  Married to the Marquess

  Secrets of a Spinster

  The London League:

  The Lady and the Gent

  A Rogue About Town

  By Hook or by Rook

  The Spinster Chronicles:

  The Merry Lives of Spinsters

  The Spinster and I

  Spinster and Spice

  Agents of the Convent:

  Fortune Favors the Sparrow

  Text copyright © 2021 by Rebecca Connolly

  Cover art copyright © 2021 by Rebecca Connolly

  Cover art by Tugboat Design

  http://www.tugboatdesign.net

  All rights reserved. Published by Phase Publishing, LLC. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.

  Phase Publishing, LLC first paperback edition

  April 2021

  ISBN 978-1-952103-26-1

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2021905272

  Cataloging-in-Publication Data on file.

  Acknowledgements

  To the county of Cornwall herself, whose culture, beauties, and essence have instilled in me a lifelong love that cried out for a series in tribute.

  And to my Cornwall crew for the greatest trip ever. Can’t wait to go again!

  But most especially: For every reader who has asked me for this story.

  Want to hear about future releases and upcoming events for Rebecca Connolly?

  Sign up for the monthly Wit and Whimsy at:

  www.rebeccaconnolly.com

  Index

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Finally.

  After five years of marriage, five long and arduous years, he had finally done it. Thomas Granger was a man of fortune again.

  He had resolved his financial deficits and returned to the solvency he had known before his marriage, and further besides; recovered what was lost and found himself in an enviable position, though much more safely invested and secure. He had learned his lesson and educated himself sufficiently to prevent a repeat of his near ruination in the future.

  He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, tell all of Society and the world that he had done it.

  But most of all, he wanted to tell his wife.

  Desperately.

  But that would require crossing the expanse of their home at Rainford Park in Hampshire and breaching the boundaries they had set up for themselves since they had taken up residence together. He’d done that exactly twice, no more, and both times had been only to inform his wife of his departure when there wasn’t time to wait for the next time they would dine together. His wife had crossed to his side twelve times, six of which had been in the first year they were married. Then she had crossed less and less, until she had stopped crossing altogether.

  They hadn’t actually arranged those boundaries verbally, but he’d respected the distance that years of polite cohabitation had generated, particularly when he hadn’t done anything to endear himself to his wife in five years.

  He hadn’t done anything in this marriage for five years.

  Marrying the woman he loved purely for her fortune had destroyed him, and he had spent every day of his marriage consumed with shame and guilt.

  Until today.

  Now, perhaps, his marriage could start.

  But how did he go about starting something that should have started from the day he took his vows?

  That was the question, and he had no answer.

  He didn’t even know where to look for an answer.

  Or how to begin.

  Thomas set down his pen on his desk, looking over the most recent reports from his estate manager, as well as his shipping interests in Brighton, Preston, and Cornwall, his secret partnerships in three banks in London, and the other shareholders from his mining ventures in Cornwall. More details from his sole interest in India had yet to arrive, but they’d always been on more of a delay compared to his England-based investments, and the numbers there had been his most promising in the last few years.

  He was always careful to keep a close eye on that particular investment for any indications of a less than savory nature. He’d heard too many horror stories of actions bordering on the inhumane for him to trust too far there. He’d be looking at getting on a ship to India himself before too long, if for no other reason than to put his own eyes on the places and people that were getting his funds and attention.

  He’d been exploring any and all options for investing his money since the day he’d lost it all on a poor speculation that he’d had no business joining. It was the day he stopped listening to business proposals over the gaming tables and only bothered with opportunities that had already proven fruitful to others. He took no chances anymore, not with his money, and not until he had already proven he could make a decent amount of earnings.

  Well, his own money had held very little meaning up until the last few years.

  He had invested his wife Lily’s money. Her dowry, to be precise.

  Initially, all he had was the money he received from the marriage settlement. The house in Hampshire had been purchased with her dowry, purely because Rainford Park was the neighborhood of Knightsgate, where her cousin Caroline, Lady Montgomery, had lived with her husband and children. It was as close to an apology for his jumping into the marriage for her fortune as he could get, short of verbalizing one.

  And as there was no way to use words to apologize for the magnitude of his sin, verbalizing wasn’t an option.

  He’d made his reasoning for their hasty, loveless marriage right. He’d earned back every farthing he’d ever used of Lily’s money, doubled the money he had lost himself, and set aside the exact amount of the extensive dowry he’d received from her father the moment he could afford to do so. It would be for her use only, once she was aware of it. He still hadn’t managed to tell her.

  That would require talking to her.

  He really hadn’t done that in years.

  They had conversations, of course, as they met for dinner every evening, but nothing of substance had been discussed in the whole course of the marriage.

  Nothing.

  It was his fault. It was always his fault. If he remotely thought, for even one moment, that he could lay anything at Lily’s door for the way their relationship had soured, he was grossly mistaken. Lily had only adapted to the life he had set up for them and the attitudes he had taken up. His guilt had guided his behavior toward her for the last five years, and now that he had removed the looming obstacle to his happiness, he aimed to find that happiness.

  With his wife.

  He should have proposed to her before he’d been ruined. He’d loved her enough, though th
ey had never courted. Her family, the Ardens, had been acquainted with his own for their entire lives, and he had been well-liked and appreciated, but he could safely say that he and Lily had never been sweethearts. Being some years older than her, they’d only ever been thrown together for gatherings with their families, never for their own interests. He had never taken particular interest in her, though he certainly cared enough for the four Arden girls in general.

  It wasn’t until he had seen her again in 1819 at an evening soiree held by Mary Hamilton that he had seen her in a different light. She had bloomed into the loveliest creature he had ever seen, and her ability to create the very song of heaven on a pianoforte unmanned him. He’d known for ages that she was accomplished musically, but never to such a degree, and never with such elegance, grace, and ease. She had been breathlessly majestic, and the fact that he had been there in a halfhearted attempt to court Mary Hamilton had bewildered him, given what a torrent of emotion Lily had roused within him.

  But how could he have pursued a young woman he had known his entire life and never truly seen? With the life he had led, tolerably honorable though it was, he had no security to provide a woman of fortune and breeding, especially when her nature was as angelic as Lily’s. He needed to improve his reputation, elevate the respect his name commanded, and ensure that he was known for more than his gaming abilities.

  If Lily had come to him as an old family friend and told him she wished to marry a man with a reputation for cards and gaming, he’d have warned her off in no uncertain terms.

  How, then, could he offer for her so unworthy and unprepared?

  So, he had begun a reconstruction of himself and his life and slowly started to take part in Society more. He could converse with Lily at gatherings where they had both been invited and be politely seen taking his place there. He had never been a rogue or a scoundrel, but he certainly could have improved the quality of gentleman he had been.

  He’d been well on his way to achieving his aims after three years of effort when the chance to financially exceed his wildest dreams had crossed his path, and thus precipitated his ruin. Only weeks after that investment, he had slunk to the Ardens and offered for Lily’s hand, though it had been more akin to outright begging. As Mr. and Mrs. Arden had never quite adjusted to the disappointment of having only daughters and no sons, they consented to the match with no fuss whatsoever.

  Hardly the proper behavior for any parent, but he would be grateful to them in spite of that. After all, their lack of concern had been his salvation, in more ways than one.

  And he could make up for the tasteless manner in which his marriage had come about. He could. As soon as he figured out how.

  He was not going to figure that out here and now, however. He knew his wife so little, thanks to the habits he had formed in his desperation to avoid her as much as humanly possible. He could have done a better job there, been more present and less aloof, and still have brought about the same distance, but fear of his feelings for her had driven him to extremes, and only now was he realizing the chasm he’d created.

  And that only spoke to his own feelings. There was no telling what hers might have been.

  Short of asking her himself, of course. He was not that brave.

  Not yet. Possibly not ever.

  He hoped that wasn’t the case, but he wasn’t prepared to make any assumptions. He never made assumptions now. Couldn’t afford them.

  He pushed up from his chair, dropped the reports on his desk, and turned from the room, his strides long and sure. It would undoubtedly give the impression that he had confidence and purpose, when in actuality, he only had purpose.

  He needed insight on his wife. And there was only one person he could truthfully turn to for that.

  Well, two, actually, but they lived in the same house. They might be his only allies in this venture.

  A few minutes later, he was on horseback, riding quickly for his nearest neighbor in Hampshire, the Earl of Montgomery. Lord Montgomery’s first wife had been Lily’s favorite cousin, and his current wife was one of her oldest friends. If anyone could guide him as to how to proceed next, it was them. Either of them. Both of them.

  Surely one of them would know.

  Short of Lily’s sister Rosalind, they were the closest thing to family she claimed anymore. But Rosalind was in the Indies, or perhaps Spain, so he would settle for the Montgomerys.

  If Thomas and Lily had been in London, he’d have a greater selection of friends for himself and for Lily, but their corner of Hampshire was a little quiet, and they being among the quietest of the bunch. They liked it that way, and it meant that he wasn’t judged too harshly here, which was always much appreciated, but it did condense his resources for advising him on the repairs he sought to make in his marriage.

  That was all he needed, in truth. Advice.

  The longer this mess of his had gone on, the more he regretted how he had behaved. He could have done the whole thing differently and been happier throughout, but instead, he had been guided by his guilt, which was now compounded by the guilt of how he had acted because of his original guilt.

  Guilt and shame, shame and guilt; whichever way he looked at it, or attempted to do so, it always came back to those things.

  What he wouldn’t give for moments of joy.

  He blinked as he realized Knightsgate was before him now, and he pushed his horse a little harder, the hooves pounding against the gravel beneath them with a crunch that was oddly soothing to his ears. Something about the slight echo to it, the clipped edges, satisfied his drive to act enough to settle him. It wasn’t much, riding here to ask for help, but it was a step toward progress, which was more than he had done yet.

  A tall footman stepped out of the house, moving into the gravel drive and clasping his hands behind him as Thomas approached.

  He pulled up before the man and dismounted easily. “Good morning. Thomas Granger to see his lordship, if he is available.”

  “Yes, Mr. Granger, of course.” The footman nodded briskly, moving forward to take the reins of the horse. “Mr. Hudson is waiting for you just inside, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Thomas turned for the house, stripping his gloves off and removing his hat as he jogged up the few steps to the door where, as promised, the stout butler of Knightsgate awaited him. “Hudson, good to see you again.”

  Hudson bowed in perfect deference, smiling politely. “A pleasure to welcome you back, Mr. Granger. I trust you seek out his lordship?”

  “Indeed I do,” Thomas told him, smiling himself. “Is he in? And available?”

  “He is both, sir,” Hudson replied easily, gesturing toward the house. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to him.”

  Thomas followed without another word, smiling to himself at the clatter he heard above him, followed by a series of giggles. Lord Montgomery had four children from his first marriage, all of whom adored their stepmother, and another two boys had joined them, though the youngest was still very much an infant. No matter how fine a place Knightsgate was, or how stately the title its owner bore, there was no shortage of laughter, mischief, and fun within its walls.

  In Thomas’s opinion, the place was even more perfect for that.

  “Mr. Granger, my lord,” Hudson intoned once they had reached the study.

  Thomas fixed an easy smile on his features as he crossed into the room, stretching out his hand toward the taller man standing behind a desk. “Monty.”

  “Granger,” Monty greeted, surprise rampant on his features as he shook his hand hard, fair eyes wide. “This is a surprise.”

  “Not unpleasant, I hope,” Thomas ventured with a hint of a wince.

  Monty shook his head. “Of course not. Thank you, Hudson, that will be all.”

  Hudson nodded, shutting the door to the study as he left them.

  “Have a seat, please,” Monty urged, crossing over to the sideboard. “Brandy?”

  “Thank you.” Thomas moved to the nearest chair and sat,
relieved to find himself surprisingly relaxed now that he was here. Monty was an imposing man, sometimes appearing more statue than human, and formality lent itself to him well. But he had always been fair in business and in manner, his loyalty to Lily admirable and gracious without extending to hatred of Thomas.

  That was fortunate indeed.

  Monty returned, two tumblers in hand and gave one to Thomas before taking the unoccupied chair opposite him. “What can I do for you, Granger? I presume this isn’t a mere social call, given you haven’t brought Lily.”

  “I’m afraid that is so, though I intend to do better, by and by.” Thomas toasted him with his brandy before sipping slowly. “Is all well with Beth and the children? I understand the birth of your youngest could not have been better, all things considered.”

  “Short of removing the pain and distress of the mother, yes, it was rather straightforward.” Monty shook his head, scoffing to himself. “Even then, Beth claimed it wasn’t that arduous, which I find hard to believe. Still, Francis is a pleasant baby and rarely gives either Beth or me moments of trouble.” He surveyed Thomas over the rim of his glass. “You and Lily are well?”

  “Perfectly so, I thank you.” The statement had come forth on its own, years of practice placing it at the tip of his tongue as the standard response. Given the subject of his impending conversation, something within him twinged at what wasn’t as truthful a statement as it ought to have been.