Something Old

by Rebecca Connolly

  He supposed one could say something similar about himself, though he had never carried the great amount of rumors Blackmoor had, nor indeed their content, as Blackmoor had been reprehensibly rumored to have murdered his first wife. At least Thomas did not have that to overcome.

  Small mercies.

  A loud burst of laughter drew the attention of them both across the room, where Rosalind stood with her friends, Will Riverton at her side, beaming amid the laughter of the rest.

  Thomas shook his head, smiling reluctantly. “Why in the world did you agree to host this extravaganza, Blackmoor? You can hardly expect me to believe that you enjoy such things.”

  “You know very well I abhor them,” Blackmoor exhaled, the sound filled with his present pain at being in this room. “My aunt convinced my wife that it would be a better venue, and my cousin’s wife turned the thing into a bleeding festival. I only know half of the people in this room, and only half of those people could even be remotely worth my time.”

  Choking a laugh, Thomas managed a smile at the man who was determinedly not smiling at this moment. “And what amount of those people worth your time do you actually like?”

  Blackmoor gave him a dark look. “Twelve. Total.”

  Now Thomas grinned outright. “And you’re considered one of the Rivertons now, in a way. I’ve never been more delighted by a paradox in my life.”

  “Glad to amuse.” Blackmoor sputtered a groan, suddenly seeming to settle on something. “If anyone asks, you haven’t any idea where I’ve gone.”

  “Fine,” Thomas replied without concern. “Do I have an idea where you’re going?”

  “No.” With a firm nod, Blackmoor swept away and headed for a door that must have led farther into the house.

  Thomas had never been especially close with Blackmoor, but their wives were true friends and devoted to each other, so they were occasionally thrown together. Suddenly, Thomas felt a greater determination to become better friends in their own right and not only for their wives’ sake. It could be a meeting of like minds in more ways than one, and when he was not seeking advice on how to court and keep his wife, Thomas could enjoy having a man like Blackmoor as an ally and friend.

  Left alone once more, he scanned the room of dancers and guests, looking for the one person he truly cared to see amid the rest.

  She was easy enough to spot, dressed in a glorious shade of green that seemed plucked from nature and could not have found a more perfect wearer. With white flowers in her hair and small, white flowers everywhere along the gown, she could have been a nymph from myths and legends, and she certainly possessed the mystic beauty of one. She could have been a siren of the seas, calling him gleefully to her with a song only he could hear, though instead of being dashed to his death upon rocks, he would have found himself carried away to a never-ending bliss.

  He’d found the words to compliment her appropriately before they had left their house that evening, assuring her that the words were not enough, and found himself batted for his efforts, which was oddly endearing.

  It would seem his wife did have a flaw after all.

  She could not and would not accept compliments, even if they were true. She would always consider them unnecessary flattery. It was a testament to her nature and character, an admirable thing to not require attention or praise to find worth in herself. Of course, it was no excuse to keep from giving her attention and praise, and to do so effusively, but she would not seek it out.

  Remarkable creature, his beautiful bride.

  He frowned to himself as he watched Lily with her friends, though the sight shouldn’t have given him any cause to do so. She was smiling with Marianne Gerrard and Gemma, Lady Blackmoor, which was a common enough sight for her when in London, and he greatly approved of both ladies, though they would not have approved of him.

  It was that he’d referred to Lily as his bride. She had not been his bride for some time. Five years they had been married, and surely she could not be considered a bride after more than one year of marriage.

  Yet it felt as though they were only just wed. This event might have been for her sister, who was a relatively new bride, but it could just as easily have been for the two of them. They’d had a quiet wedding, without frills or fuss, and without a celebration of any kind even between themselves.

  They should have celebrated somehow. They should have been reveling in their marriage from the very first day. He should have felt exhilarated that she was his bride every day since they had made their vows.

  But none of that would change what he felt right now. It was as though he had entered the church this morning and had watched the vision of Lily walking down the aisle toward him, flowers in her hair and smiling just for him. He had vowed to love her, to honor her, to have and to hold her, and making those vows that morning had given him a heady rush of emotions where she was concerned that he was entirely unprepared for. As though life would suddenly mean nothing without her.

  Except he hadn’t made vows this morning. He had not been in a church, and Lily had not walked down an aisle toward him. And on the day that he had married her, he hadn’t felt exhilarated, and she certainly hadn’t smiled for him as she walked down the aisle.

  But he was feeling a heady rush of emotions where she was concerned, and he was feeling that life would mean nothing without her.

  So did that mean she was still his bride? If he felt as though his life with her had just begun, had just taken on the meaning he’d always sought, could that explain how he felt as though they had just married and returned from their wedding journey? As though the day did not begin until they had seen the other? How had he suddenly fallen helplessly and hopelessly in love with his wife when he had loved her for years?

  “Mr. Granger, you seem a trifle confused, my boy.”

  He shook himself from the stupor of adoration and almost managed a polite smile as he turned to face the person he least expected to encounter that evening, Lady Tabitha Raeburn.

  Although apparently, she would soon be married again, her fourth or fifth husband, and would soon be Lady Tabitha Tinsdale. He’d never adjust to that.

  “Confused?” He forced himself to complete the smile he hadn’t managed. “Lady Raeburn, what could I possibly have to be confused about?”

  “Precisely my question, sir,” Lady Raeburn blustered in her usual way, her vibrant red hair more outrageously bright than he had ever seen it. “You have a beautiful wife, and this celebration is for her sister. Rather simple, I find, and yet your expression would have me believe otherwise.”

  Thomas allowed himself to give the bold woman a politely scolding look. “You are too observant for your own good, my lady.”

  Lady Raeburn did not so much as bat an eyelash at his statement. “I’ve been told. Will you give me satisfaction?”

  “To what?” he replied, intentionally aloof, not feeling particularly keen on being accommodating where her curiosity was concerned.

  Her glower was startling in its potency, and he swallowed with marked discomfort. “I do not take that tone from anyone, Granger, and though I like you immensely, I shall not take it from you, either. If you do not wish to tell an interested party what it is that has you so discomfited at this time, I’ll not press you, but you needn’t be mysterious. So vulgar, and you are above such things.”

  Thomas considered that. “Am I? Hmm. Interesting.”

  Lady Raeburn exhaled loudly in irritation but said nothing. There was no telling what a toll that restraint had taken upon her, given her usual proclivities.

  Thomas finally chuckled, relaxing despite the discomfort being at this event gave him. Lady Raeburn had always been very good where he was concerned, and though she was outspoken and eccentric, he had never had any reasons to be the slightest bit put out with her. “I’m only considering my feelings for my wife, my lady.”

  Looking both startled and pleased, Lady Raeburn smiled before narrowing her eyes. “What’s there to consider? You are fond of
her, are you not?”

  “I love her,” Thomas admitted before he could stop himself, not entirely regretting having that truth expressed. “And I thought that had settled within me, but tonight, I find it feels new.”

  “Rather disconcerting, is it not?” Lady Raeburn exhaled sympathetically, shaking her head. “One would wish for one’s feelings to be as steady as one’s character, rather than always dashing here and there on a whim.”

  Thomas nodded at that, taking the chance to stare at his wife from across the room, his heart expanding with heat as she smiled, though it was not in his particular direction. It did not matter; his wife’s smile would always catch his breath and set him alight.

  “Don’t you wish those traitorous emotions would set themselves aright?” Lady Raeburn asked from beside him, her voice somehow distant, despite being directly beside him.

  “Yes,” Thomas murmured, nodding still. “And yet, no. Not at all.”

  “You enjoy the tumult?”

  Thomas found himself smiling, his throat tightening as Lily’s eyes landed on him and her smile deepened. “Where Lily is concerned? I rather think I do. I’ve no wish to be perfectly comfortable there. Wouldn’t it be marvelous to always be surprised by how I love her?”

  “I do believe you are growing sentimental, Granger.”

  “Undoubtedly. In many respects, that would unnerve me. But not in this.”

  Lady Raeburn hummed a soft laugh. “I believe I rather like this version of you.”

  Wrenching his eyes from his wife, Thomas grinned at the woman who saw so much. “So do I, my lady. So do I.”

  “What is Tibby saying to my husband?”

  “Who on earth could predict anything where my aunt is concerned? One can only hope she’s giving him an earful on his faults.”

  Lily gave Marianne a long-suffering look. “Please…”

  Marianne only raised her brows. “What? I know you love him, my dear, but I do not, and feel no compulsion to. Gemma would agree with me, were she still standing here. I believe she despises him more than I do.”

  “And neither of you give me any comfort by doing so,” Lily snapped, closing her eyes to keep herself from truly growing distressed. Gemma had left their little group to attend to her duties of hosting the event, and so far, they had avoided discussion of Thomas at all. Now, it seemed, they would not be so fortunate. “I was going to tell you both after this attention for my sister is done, but everything has changed. Everything.”

  “What?” Marianne took her arm, forcing her to open her eyes and meet her own. Marianne’s bright blue eyes were round as they considered her. “What do you mean by everything has changed?”

  Lily smiled weakly, though her pulse skittered about her body. “Just that. Cornwall changed everything for us. He… he was the man I always longed him to be. Attentive and sweet, charming and warm… He loves me, Marianne.”

  “I know you’d like him to,” Marianne said hesitantly, doubt rife in her expression and her eyes. “Almost anyone would wish for their husband to feel that way, and I am pleased to hear he has not been neglecting you in the same manner. You know how that irks me. But I don’t think you can call it love just because his behavior has changed.”

  “He has told me, Marianne.” Lily lifted her chin with a confidence she did not usually know, her adoration for her husband giving her strength, and her certainty in him giving her courage. “Several times. He loves me. He always has, he was only ashamed of his marrying me in the way he did and was trying to make amends. It was foolishly done, but he’s come to terms with it now. Believe me, he does love me.”

  Marianne’s lips had parted in surprise, and now they began to form a very small smile. She laughed only once. “Very well, then. I know something of husbands being constant in their own way, even if we cannot see it. I suppose you would have me hate him less, and, for your sake, I shall try my utmost.”

  Relief washed over Lily, and she reached out a hand for her dear friend, finding herself near to tears. “Thank you. I did not think he and I could know this sort of joy or this sense of wonder. That we would ever share this… this excitement with each other. This exhilaration over something as simple and profound as the other person and to want nothing more than to see them smile, counting the moments until they do so.”

  “You are going to make me weep,” Marianne protested, laughing as she squeezed Lily’s hand. “Do stop, or I’ll become quite a sight.” She wiped delicately at her eyes and sniffed very softly before smiling again. “I think the pair of you ought to make haste back to Cornwall as soon as possible, and only return when you’ve a child in tow or one shortly forthcoming.”

  Such a direct suggestion would have once had Lily blushing to the tips of each strand of hair, and even now, she felt a heat of embarrassment start in her cheeks and at the tops of her ears, but she also smiled at the idea.

  “I would not mind that a jot,” she replied without blinking. “It sounds perfect.”

  Marianne coughed a laugh and snapped open her fan to cover her mouth. “My dear Lily, if nothing else were to convince me of the change in your situation with your husband, that certainly would. Now, I’m off to dance with my husband. Gemma has allowed for couples to dance together so that Rosalind might do so, and I cannot let Helen Pratt have all the fun with her husband when mine is also at hand.” She winked at Lily and glided away with more grace and poise than Lily had ever managed to attain.

  Was now the time when Lily might be able to escape the polite duties expected of her and instead go share a dance with her husband? She’d seen so many of the influential members of Society, some of whom she greatly admired, and she had given suitable praise to her sister and her new husband. She had done everything she had been expected to at such an auspicious occasion and was now finding herself looking for some way to escape the ball entirely. All she wanted was to go home with her husband.

  Not so long ago, she would have wished to go home alone. Not now. Not ever again.

  She looked across the room again, finding him exactly where he had been before, though by now, Tibby had slipped away to something or someone else. Thomas was now in conversation with Lord Sheffield, the eldest Riverton son, brother to Rosalind’s husband, and the more reserved of the two, which was undoubtedly why he and Thomas got on well when they were together.

  “Something’s different about you.”

  Lily laughed softly to herself and smiled at her sister, now standing beside her and looking her most radiant. “I wondered if you would see it.”

  Rosalind grinned, her dark eyes crinkling, and she linked arms with Lily. “I certainly do. I saw it yesterday at dinner, but we didn’t have a chance to speak with everyone else there.”

  “You are in very high demand from your new family, Mrs. Riverton,” Lily reminded her with a gentle nudge to her side.

  “With twin nephews and an infant niece to adore, don’t forget,” Rosalind sighed and turned to walk, pulling Lily with her. “What I would dearly love is to find a quiet wing of Riverton House and sleep for three days.”

  Lily chuckled and rubbed her sister’s hand. “It must have been an exhausting journey.”

  “It’s been an exhausting life,” Rosalind corrected. “The Navy could not decide if they wanted us to remain in the Indies or go on to Spain, and then they did decide on Spain, but after a fortnight, they thought it would be better if we were back in the Indies, and then…” She groaned and shook her head. “Well, then we came here instead, and I pray that Will sells his commission before they can assign him somewhere else. I just want to be home in England with him. And you.”

  Lily leaned her head affectionately on her sister’s shoulder. “I missed you, too.”

  They meandered around some guests, all of whom smiled at them as though old friends, and they returned the smiles as they moved without stopping.

  “I haven’t the faintest idea who any of those people were,” Rosalind said through the teeth of her false smile. She let
her face relax and rolled her eyes. “The joys of being a Riverton now. Good thing I’m fond of Will, or this would be a dreadful scheme.”

  Lily wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she only made a soft, noncommittal sound of acknowledgement.

  Her sister caught it, though, and heard something in it. “Granger was rather sweet to me yesterday, what’s brought that on?”

  “He’s always liked you,” Lily protested, stiffening at the implication.

  “Better than Eloise or Emma, which is a standard in Society, but you could hardly call him affectionate toward me.” She glanced over at him, her eyes narrowing. “If I didn’t know better, Lills, I’d say that man has thawed a bit.”

  Lily gave her a speculative look, a secret smile of amusement finding its way to her lips. “Why shouldn’t you know better?”

  Rosalind gaped dramatically, though the shock in her eyes was genuine. “No…”

  The secret smile bloomed into a helpless grin that might have cracked her cheeks had she let it. “He loves me, Roz.”

  “I suspected that,” Rosalind told her as her expression relaxed into a more natural one. “He simply needed to learn how to show it. Has he finally done that?”

  “Yes.” Lily smiled across the room at Thomas who was now watching her walk the room with her sister, his own smile in place and heating her entire frame. “He certainly has. And I’ve learned how to show my love for him. And wonderful things have been happening.”

  “They usually do when showing love goes on between a couple.”

  Something about her sister’s tone brought Lily’s attention back to her. “Why does that sound like you are teasing me?”

  Rosalind looked almost completely innocent. Almost.

  “I haven’t the faintest idea,” Rosalind replied easily, the slightest hint of a smile ticking at the corner of her lips. “Will and I haven’t been married nearly as long as you and Granger, so I would never dream of presuming to advise or tease you on the subject.”

  Lily scowled a little. “Of course you would. You married for love, and your wild romance carried you across the sea. By all accounts, you know more of the thing than I. Perhaps I should take your advice, if you have any.”