He sighed, glancing up into the face of the powerful, popular marquess. “Pray for me, Whitlock.”
A wry snort emitted from his companion. “You don’t want my prayers, Granger. The Almighty might smite you out of spite for me. We’ll get Monty to pray, he’s a better sort.”
“Might need a whole parish of prayers.”
“As it happens, I know a clergyman.” Whitlock held out his hand to Thomas, shaking firmly when Thomas took it. “You start paying attention, Granger, to your wife, not your guilt, and see if you can’t see something. I’ll see you shortly.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
As though that amused him, Whitlock chuckled and turned from the table, nodding at a few others he passed on his way out of the club.
A marquess, a viscount, and an earl were all being recruited to help him win the love of his wife. Powerful men with loving wives.
Would any of it do any good?
Chapter Six
Silence in London was no different than silence in Hampshire, yet it seemed to ring louder for Lily.
There had been utter silence last evening at supper, and there had been silence at breakfast, and she was so tired of silence when she expected something more.
Why had he brought her here if nothing was going to happen?
Why had she agreed to come?
A walk in the park was supposed to do her good, and the fresh air was pleasant enough, but her thoughts had refused to settle in one direction or another, leaving her completely helpless in the face of their onslaught. Thomas had been so changeable in his behavior lately, so varied between one nature and another, that she could not even think of determining what his true purpose in bringing her to London was, or why he had been so eager to have her join him.
There was nothing delightful in anything they had done, only the usual activities that London afforded. He hated the theatre, and that had continued to be evident when they had gone with the Whitlocks. He had been warm and engaging that day in the music room at Rainford, but she had seen very little of that man since they’d come to London.
If she were only to endure the same sort of independent schedule of her husband and expect silence when they were together, she’d much rather do so at Rainford. There, at least, she could go for long walks in the countryside, could call on Beth for conversation or amusement, could tend to the needs of her tenants, could shop in the village without having to fuss with an escort or be jostled about in the bustling streets. If she were going to continue to be moderately ignored by her husband, she’d rather be ignored where it mattered less.
“Lily, dear, your expression isn’t showing contentment.”
She shook herself from her stupor and looked at the woman walking beside her. “My thoughts hold very little contentment to them, Aunt,” she admitted without shame. “I am troubled.”
The older woman frowned, her dark eyes shielded by the brim of her hat. “Troubled, my dear? About what?”
“Likely that boring husband of hers,” Eloise chirped from behind them.
“But he’s certainly worth looking at,” Emma added, giggling with her usual silliness.
Augusta stopped in her tracks and whirled to face them. “There is nothing attractive in tasteless remarks, girls. Shame on you! I expect better of my nieces, especially when under my care.”
The girls looked appropriately chagrined, though Eloise also bore a distinct air of irritation. They looked at Lily, then down at the ground.
“No apologies?” Augusta barked. “No, don’t make them now that I have suggested you should. There is also nothing attractive about forced apologies of insincerity.” She huffed and turned on her heel, taking Lily’s arm. “I despair in helping them,” she told her in an undertone as they began to walk again. “I never had difficulty with you or Rosalind.”
Lily smiled sadly and patted her aunt’s hand. “The girls are younger than Rosalind and I were when we came to stay with you.”
Augusta sniffed dismissively. “They are younger in nature than you ever were and have a distinct lack of good nature that you perfected. I ought to have appreciated you more, my dear, and for that, I apologize.”
“No need,” Lily assured her with all the gentleness in her heart. “And I have no doubt the girls will gain more sense the longer they remain with you, observing your own nature and taste, and seeing for themselves a better example than they would have found at home.”
“Of that, there can be no question.” Augusta heaved an almost dramatic sigh. “I’d send them home as punishment if I did not think they would return to me next Season far worse.”
It was a valid fear, and Lily could not say that it should not be taken seriously. She had only returned to the family home in Kent once since her marriage, and there was no need to do so again unless someone was about to get married or about to be buried.
This was one area on which she and Thomas were always united, ironically enough.
He’d asked her father for her hand, and then after the wedding, almost never spoke with him.
Small mercies.
“So, what truly troubles you?” her aunt asked, tugging at her arm.
A wry smile made its way to Lily’s lips. “My husband, as it happens.”
Augusta looked at her, almost startled, then laughed with a warmth that spoke of understanding. “You and many other women in London. Husbands do try us so. What is your complaint against Granger?”
“No complaint, as such,” Lily said slowly, wanting to be careful with her words and cautious in her statements. “Only thoughts.”
“Such as?”
Lily sighed, more to herself than to her aunt. “You know we are both reserved, particularly with each other. We are not fond of London, either of us, but he wanted to come and specifically said that he wanted me to come as well. Yet nothing has changed between us. He keeps his distance, and I say very little. We have gone about doing our usual activities, and then when we spend time together, it’s as if we barely know each other.”
“And do you know each other?”
“After five years of marriage, and years of acquaintance beforehand, I should hope so.”
“But you’ve just said you are reserved with each other and that nothing has changed. If he keeps his distance, and you say little, how can you know each other?” Augusta tutted, her still dark hair bobbing with her steps. “Forgive me, child, but I rather think you know each other less now than you did when you wed.”
Lily bit down on her lip as she considered that. “You may be right.”
“And besides,” Augusta said with a sudden toss of her head, “there are many comfortable marriages that have minimal conversation and no alterations, yet you do not see any of those wives fussing and troubled.”
“Do they love their husbands?” Lily snapped, looking out over the green of the park, envying any happy couple she saw. “Do they take every glimpse of affection from their husbands as a sign that he might be coming to love them? Are they disappointed every time they see their husband return to the proper, staid, simple relationship that has defined their entire marriage?”
Emma made a juvenile whining sound behind her. “Lily! Whatever you are saying, say it quietly! It is unseemly to draw attention!”
Augusta glared over her shoulder at her. “When you have found a modicum of decorum, you can advise your sister. Now hush!” She returned her attention to Lily, her plump face wreathed in sympathy. “Child, I had no idea. How do you bear it?”
Lily shook her head, tears burning at the edges of her eyes, though she refused to let them fall. “I pretend that I do not care. I try to remove myself from my emotions. I throw myself into tasks that will prevent me from thinking or feeling. I thought I was past hoping for him, but when he asked me to come to London with him, I thought… I thought…”
“Darling, I think you had best stop waiting around and start doing something about this.”
If her aunt had told her the sky was glowing red, Lily
could not have been more surprised. How she continued to put one foot in front of the other and manage this walk was beyond her, but she somehow managed not to fall on her face while gaping at her aunt. “I must do what?”
“Something,” her aunt said again. “Anything, really. You’re already married to the man, so there are no rules of etiquette that must be followed to gain his affection. Why must you wait around for him to decide he wants to like you? If I waited for my husband to do something, I’d be with the angels in heaven before it got done.”
Lily coughed a surprise laugh. “I wouldn’t have thought my uncle so difficult in that regard.”
“He’s a man, darling. They’re all difficult in some way.”
There was no helping the giggles that erupted from Lily in response to that, and she covered her mouth in a vain attempt to contain them.
Augusta smiled at Lily’s laughter. “You wish for your marriage to be different, yes?”
Lily nodded, still giggling. “With Thomas, yes, I do.”
“Well, I was hardly going to suggest you find a new bridegroom, Lily,” her aunt protested, her cheeks coloring faintly as she averted her eyes. “Have some compassion on my sensibilities.”
“I only wanted to be clear that I want my marriage with my husband to be different,” Lily explained, smiling at her aunt’s discomfiture. “Not that I wished for a different marriage.”
Augusta shook her head quickly, as though to shake her embarrassment from her cheeks. “A very proper distinction, I am sure, although wholly irrelevant.” She laid a gloved hand along her right cheek, sniffing softly. “If you wish for your marriage with Granger to be different, then you may have to let him know that you wish for it to be different.”
“I couldn’t tell him that!” Lily’s stomach clenched at the mere thought of that conversation. “He would think me unhappy.”
Her aunt gave her a pointed look. “He could hardly think you’ve been particularly happy all this time. Men may be obtuse, but they are not wholly blind.”
She had a point there. While Lily was careful never to parade her sadness for all to see, it was well known that she was not in the sort of marriage that she would like. No one could blame her, she had heard, for what girl wishes to be married for her money alone? Had everyone in Society seen her hopes before the marriage? Had they seen the despair afterward?
Thomas had to see how Lily’s heart had broken little by little over time. He’d have had to be determined not to see in order to be ignorant of it. Had such an understanding led him to invite her to London with him? Why, then, was nothing changing?
Could he be waiting for some indication on Lily’s part?
“How do I tell him?” Lily asked her aunt, turning down a new path in the park. “Without directly using those words.”
“Why mustn’t it be direct?” Augusta’s brow furrowed at the question. “It would be so very simple to come right out and say it, then there can be no misunderstandings.”
Lily sighed, wishing she’d been brave enough to have this conversation with her aunt or any other respectable woman she trusted before her marriage had gotten to this point. “We are never so direct.”
Augusta grunted softly. “Perhaps you should be. Hinting at the problem does not suffice if your partner is dreadful with hints. If you will not speak with Granger about this, then you must show him.”
“Show him what?” Lily inquired in outright bewilderment. “Show him I am unhappy? Must I dissolve into tears and throw myself at his feet in despair? Wallow in self-pity and wear black at all times?”
“I think Lily enjoyed the theatre far more than usual,” Eloise broke in, staring at Lily in a sort of dismay. “She’s even adopted some of the same theatrics employed there.”
Augusta cut her off with a quick gesture of her hand, her eyes on Lily. “No, dear,” she told her. “You must show him that you are willing to make things different. If he will not start a conversation, you must. If he will not smile, you must. If he will not be affectionate, you must.”
With every suggestion, Lily felt smaller in stature, weaker in nature. How could she do any of those things? Thomas was so aloof at times, so reluctant to engage with any depth where she was concerned, that the idea of her taking such a chance was terrifying. What would he say? What would he think? What would he feel? What if he didn’t want to change anything? What if he liked the way things were, and the decision to come to London was nothing more than a whim? What if he rejected her efforts to change things?
What if he rejected her?
“It should not all lay at his feet, my dear,” Augusta murmured with surprising tenderness. “You both have gotten yourselves to this point, so it falls to both of you to amend things.”
“What if he doesn’t want to?” Lily whispered, her step the slightest bit unsteady.
Augusta rubbed her upper arm, apparently unconcerned with the question. “You won’t know until you try, my dear. And a less separate marriage would benefit you both, even if there isn’t going to be full love in the match. You can be companionable, and to be frank, you ought to be.”
“I want more than that,” Lily admitted with a raw honesty she usually reserved for her closest friends.
“You won’t get anything more if you don’t get that first, Lily,” Augusta told her with a knowing look. “You must have a beginning to expand upon, and at this moment, you don’t have even that.”
Lily nodded, more in thought than in response. The man she had married was determined to avoid her for one reason or another, but the one who had brought her to London…
What did he want?
“What should I do?” she asked her aunt, feeling helpless and clueless. “How should I… ?”
“I am not married to Mr. Granger, sweetheart,” Augusta reminded her, shaking her head. “I cannot direct you, nor can I give you any advice on the subject. You know your husband, and you know yourself. You will need to find your own way into a happier version of your marriage.”
Emma snorted loudly behind them. “You’ll have to study Granger every moment of every day to see if anything you do pleases him.”
“He would have to be alive to be pleased,” Eloise remarked, snickering.
Augusta exhaled loudly in irritation and turned around. “Lily, I do apologize, but your sisters and I must leave now. I don’t believe we will see you at any of the balls or assemblies in the near future, and if you would look into whether or not the Miss Masters Finishing School takes young ladies who should already be finished, that would be much appreciated.”
The woman marched forward and grabbed Emma and Eloise by the arms, turning them about and marching them away without another word.
Lily watched them go before following to return home, fighting amusement against her personal turmoil. She should have defended her husband to her sisters rather than let them continue to make such comments, but she was so accustomed to having nothing to defend him with. His reserve was well known, and it had gotten worse since their marriage. He had never made attempts to establish any kind of relationship with Emma or Eloise, which she did not blame him for, but it did nothing to create warmth for him in their estimation.
She wanted to feel a thrill of protectiveness for her husband, wanted to rage against her sisters for daring to slander him even in jest, but instead, she felt nothing.
A twinge of guilt, perhaps, but nothing to act on.
That was certainly not Thomas’s fault. That could not be laid on his shoulders. That, for certain, was something that only Lily could be blamed for.
For all her issues with Thomas, the reason he married her, and the manner in which he’d behaved since their marriage, her own feelings for her husband and treatment of him were hers.
She could make changes too, not simply expect him to do so. She was just as responsible for happiness in their marriage as he was and had simply accepted the way he had situated things.
She did not want distance. She did not want to live as th
ey had lived. She wanted more. If Thomas were still the man she loved before her marriage, she wanted much more.
And in order to know if he were, she needed to find out.
She needed to try. And try she would.
Chapter Seven
Lily was radiant.
He knew that, of course, but for some reason, looking at her tonight made that fact even more true. Lilac silk encased her slender frame, with fine netting lining her bodice, her sleeves holding a distinctly petal-like shape that gave her the illusion of being a bloom herself. He’d have sworn to anyone that she was, that she had been created with the same delicacy of a flower and should be revered with the same awe an exquisite flower would. Her skirts held decoration of white ribbons that caught his attention every time she twisted or moved, swirling about her pristinely slippered feet.
The glory that was her thick, dark hair had somehow been encased in ribbons and flowers, perfect curls adorning her temples, which had the distracting effect of drawing one’s eyes to her cheeks, which were rosy and bright this evening.
He’d been rendered silent all throughout supper, distracted by her beauty and his own cowardice where she was concerned. He hadn’t been so frightened when he’d prepared to court her years ago. Opportunities to see her were exciting, and he’d felt eager to seek her out; now he was only a bundle of nerves and worried about disappointing her.
How had he come to this?
Marianne Gerrard said something entertaining, making the group of ladies laugh heartily. That was no surprise. Marianne was a beautiful, engaging woman, whose rich blue eyes had captivated many a man before her marriage, and whose nature had been much improved by her marriage. Her husband was far more reserved but had become more at ease since their union.
So the Gerrards were, in fact, the opposite of Thomas and Lily. He didn’t like that idea, but he was sure Lily had also made the connection. Or spoken with Marianne about it, which would mean that Marianne would have given her considerable opinion on the subject, in which Thomas would likely come out the villain.
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