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

Her gown was immaculate and incomparable, a golden-yellow silk with some gauzy overlay with similar yellow ribbon bands lining the bottom, along with delicate, embroidered yellow roses. A band of wide, matching ribbon was tied around her, emphasizing all the perfection in her figure. The bodice of the exquisite garment was a gentle collection of ribbons and folds that resembled the distracting shape of a bow, while her neckline was lined with corded details and more rosettes. The sleeves were short, yet held a touch of volume that made him wonder how in the world they remained on her slender shoulders with nothing holding them there. About her throat was a small, single strand of pearls that drew his gaze more than was polite.

She was a vision, and he had felt himself grow lightheaded for lack of taking in a proper breath.

He’d led her into the house with barely a word, fearful she would feel the trembling in his hand as he did so and certain he would not find another lady to dance with all evening. It wasn’t quite the thing to dance with one’s spouse, but he’d be damned if he’d avoid that on this night. He’d make a point of discussing it with Trembath, being their host, but he’d dance with Lily in a parlor of Helwithin if it were the only option open to him.

He’d pay a fortune for it to be a waltz, but even a jig would do. Anything to move with her and have an excuse to hold her hand with energy. Whatever would give him opportunity to hold her closer than he could having simple conversation in others’ company.

Did Helwithin have gardens to equal that of the Roskelleys’ home? He and his wife had a marvelous history with gardens, and he’d be happy to add to the collection.

He shook his head now, determined to keep a civil mind in his head and a gentlemanly behavior in his hands. He wasn’t sure he would have the restraint required of his tongue, so it would be better for all if he kept his mouth shut altogether. Yet he needed his wife to know that his silence was not that of anger, of reserve, or of disapproval. It was a silence of self-preservation.

He hadn’t the words to compliment her much when she’d come down in her finery, though he had managed to smile, and apparently that had been enough as she had returned it with a glorious grin of her own.

What could he say that would be enough?

He had to say it now, or it might go unsaid, and his evening of silence could be entirely misconstrued for the man he had once been.

“Darling,” he murmured, leaning close as they moved farther into the house, closer to the ballroom, “I’ve a secret to tell you.”

She shivered, and small bumps raised on her exposed skin. “Yes?” she breathed, her breath visibly catching.

He smiled at that and raised a finger to trace the edge of the sleeve at her upper arm lightly. “I’ll likely not manage a single word this evening. It will probably be all reserve and aloofness.”

“Why?” she hissed, her eyes widening. “You ought to be congenial. Mr. Trembath is our friend.”

“It is a simple fact,” he confessed quietly, looking about them, “that I develop a significant hindrance to my speech when in the presence of incomparable beauty, particularly when in a formal, public setting where I am not able to truly express myself. And as you are a glimpse of the glories of heaven tonight, I could not let you think I did not notice, appreciate, and admire such a vision. I simply lack the power to properly express it in a way that would not be maudlin or shocking.”

A wash of rosiness cascaded into her cheeks and down her neck, the fan in her free hand not quite steady as it beat an almost even rhythm. “Thomas…”

He leaned in and brushed his lips along the edge of her ear, not daring to be any more demonstrative than that in this setting. “I’ll be distracted all night. And you needed to know that.”

Her lashes fluttered, and her hold on his hand turned clenching. “That was my plan,” she managed through gritted teeth, “but I was not supposed to be the one to catch fire by it.”

Thomas exhaled slowly, trying to chuckle despite suddenly feeling incendiary himself. “You are not the only fire burning, my love. Not in the least.”

What in the name of heaven, hell, and everything between, were they even doing here this evening? With both of them fit to burst, why were they venturing into company?

Before he could find a decent enough answer, they entered the ballroom and witnessed the array of finery, riches, and majesty in both the room itself and the people within it. They would blend in well with their apparel and their practiced airs, but Thomas would have been happy enough to attend a dance among the villagers without any of the distinguishing adornments that set apart this setting from that.

“And so we burn,” Lily murmured, her fingers fidgeting in his hold.

He nodded once, forcing his careful public expression into place, squeezing her hand gently as a reminder that he was here, even if his face did not show it.

There was no announcement of arriving guests, so they were able to proceed into the room without disturbing the conversations at hand. Dancing had yet to begin, which was fortunate, as Lily was an elegant dancer, and watching her was one of the great pleasures for any pair of eyes. If he could not remain by her side the entire night and only partner her himself, at least he would be able to see her the whole of the night.

He felt like a predator feeling and thinking this way, growing possessive over the attention and person of his wife. It felt unseemly, yet it was something he felt in the depths of his soul,