Something Old by Rebecca Connolly (autobiographies to read txt) 📕

in acceptance, casting a smirk at Mrs. Roskelley. “At last. Someone with the graciousness to acknowledge my pain. You see, Julia? Not everyone takes your side in this.”

Basset sighed heavily, shaking his head from the head of the table. “Just once. Just once I’d hoped that I could host an evening with the pair of you in attendance and not have the conversation return to this topic.”

The table laughed good-naturedly, though Thomas did note that Miss Moyle did not participate in the laughter. Oh, she smiled nicely enough, but there was a hint of strain in her smile that spoke of the distance between herself and her brother’s friends.

Lily saw him watching, and his eyes drifted to her. She tilted her head very slightly, almost as a question. He very carefully kept his hands away from his cravat pin, smiled a little and did his best to shake his head without obviously completing the action. She, to her credit, did not fidget with her necklace, though her lower lip did suddenly pucker as though she bit the inside of it.

Distracting, he thought, raising a brow. Instantly the pucker vanished, replaced by a shy smile and a faint flush that made his throat tighten.

Lily turned slightly to say something to Miss Moyle, but her eyes traced back to Thomas rather soon after, and he, having never looked anywhere else, allowed himself to fully smile at her now.

Why shouldn’t he indulge in admiring his wife openly? He’d had plenty of experience doing so reservedly, sneaking glimpses as though they were forbidden.

No more.

His wife deserved to know how her husband adored her, even if finding the words seemed almost impossible. He would find a way to show her he loved her, to tell her if he were able, and to give her the same delight in looking upon her husband from across a table or room as Mrs. Roskelley found in hers.

That was what he wanted for himself. The ability to know he could make his wife smile from across the room. To bring her joy and pleasure without doing anything at all. To laugh at something only they two would understand. To be filled with longing for each other that had nothing to do with agony and everything to do with passion.

Would such a thing be possible for them? Could it be?

“For shame, Mr. Granger,” Mrs. Roskelley said beside him, not entirely keeping her voice discreet. “Your meal shall grow quite cold if you continue to stare at your wife rather than eat.”

Thomas inhaled, then exhaled slowly, smiling at his wife without reserve in company for one of the few times in his life. “I feel certain I will survive the deprivation. I find I am more pleasantly engaged at the moment.”

The widening of Lily’s eyes told him she heard him, and his first instinct was to avert his gaze, fall back on habits he had spent five years forming. But he resisted, smiling just a little so as not to embarrass her and held her gaze, determined to do so for as long as she could bear.

He watched her breathing grow the slightest bit unsteady, caught the slightest flick of her tongue as she wet her lips, took in the appearance of an adorable little dip in her cheek as her lips quirked, and waited.

Waited.

Lily’s dark eyes remained on his, and then, to his utter delight, she very pointedly bit down on her lower lip.

Something hot exploded in the pit of his stomach yet sent icy shards soaring to various places within him, puncturing some and illuminating others, until he was nothing but a cacophony of sensations.

He had half a mind to yank his cravat pin out and signal to his wife that they both needed to absent themselves from this place.

Lily’s lip was released as she giggled, shaking her head slowly in warning.

She knew.

Had he ever known such a jolt of searing pleasure in his entire life?

This game, this playful interaction with his wife that was so new, so foreign, yet so very enticing, was a beacon of hope for him, even as they returned to the company and meal at hand.

He could only pray it would have some similar impact for her.

Chapter Twelve

“I had no idea Cornwall contained so much beauty in her borders!”

“She’s a gem, ain’t she? Tidden said so in ’igh places, but she’d make ee smile jus’ to ’ave a look.”

Lily had to smile at Emblyn Moyle’s charming and easy words, quaint in many respects, and certainly common in others, but ultimately refreshing.

Seeing Cornwall through her eyes was more enlightening than the conversations in drawing rooms and dining rooms that Lily had been enduring of late. Emblyn was from the true Cornwall, she had decided, and her nature that of the county.

And her company was an improvement from much of the company therein as well.

Not all, naturally, but there were a number of ladies in the finer circles of the local Society for whose conversation Lily had no interest.

She would much rather walk the moors and the fields, or go into town to the shops or market, or sit in a parlor and laugh without fear of being impolite or judged, all of which she had been free to do with Emblyn. And with the opinions of others surrounding Emblyn, there was very little chance that she would have to be on display for others while she enjoyed time with her new friend. Julia Roskelley was available at times, and she was as delighted to be in Emblyn’s company as Lily was. The three of them made a marvelous trio, and it was as comfortable a time as one could hope to have among friends.

What freedom there was away from London!

Lily sighed in delight, looking around her as she and Emblyn walked, wildflowers scattered everywhere, particularly in patches near the cliffs. “The wild is more beautiful than the refined, is it not?”

“Knaw now, do ee?” Emblyn asked, glancing over her