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

“Only if it’s strong,” Thomas grumbled, sipping a little. When there was no burn, he winced in disappointment. “Blast.”

Trembath chuckled dryly. “Drinking to forget, or drinking your regrets?”

Thomas lifted a shoulder in a bare shrug. “Both and neither. Much needed and much appreciated, all the same, thank you.” He cleared his throat and nudged his head toward the dance floor. “As I was saying, a rather good gathering. What is the occasion for it all?”

“Tradition,” came the bland response. “A spring ball has been held by my family since the dawn of our birth. I do my best to continue the tradition, else my neighbors are likely to rise up in protest. I do endeavor to not make the supper a formal occasion, which would require a mistress as host, as per custom. But it is still glaringly obvious that I am a bachelor, which will never be enough for some.” He exhaled a groan of sorts, shaking his head. “I’d give anything not to do this farce every year.”

“Then I’d reckon next year there will not be one,” a new voice echoed near them. Basset came into view, toasting his own glass to them both. “Gage, I don’t know why you host this event at all if you despise it so. You are master now, do as you please.”

Trembath rolled his eyes. “You’re a fine one to talk, Harrison. What Basset family traditions have you given up of late?”

Thomas coughed a laugh, averting his eyes. He was not as familiar with their families to understand perfectly what was being referenced, but he understood enough of established families to fathom adequately. Basset would have felt the same loyalty to any traditions his family had held in the area, particularly if they were well received, and likely would have done his best to see them improved upon.

“Then perhaps the answer for both of us is to marry soon,” Basset suggested with all the interest one might have done over a pebble in one’s path. “Then the awkwardness of no mistress at hand might be readily removed.”

“You first,” Trembath retorted sharply. “Granger may advise me to get a wife but not you, sir.”

Bringing his head around, Thomas gave both men a look. They in turn were staring at him as though waiting for such advice.

He snorted a soft laugh. “I am in no position to do so. I am exceptionally grateful to have a wife, and to have Lily as my wife especially, but I’ve made a hash of most of it. Only recently has it become an enjoyable venture for us both, and I’m fumbling my way in this new version of it. If you wish to marry for love, I’d encourage marriage with all my heart. If you wish to marry for other considerations, I can offer no advice.”

“You married your wife for money and love, yes?” Basset prodded.

Thomas gave him a dark look. “Yes, and my shame may never fully abate. So marry for love or money or connections, but not for them all.”

“But you do advise us to marry?”

“For the love of…” Thomas bit back a curse and took a sip of his drink. “Yes, if you’d like. There, are you pleased? Trembath, is there any way I can get a drink that one would not give a child?”

Trembath barked a laugh. “Yes, if you don’t mind moving this conversation into the game room.”

“I’m for it,” Basset ventured, downing the remnants of his glass. “Only give me leave to dance the next first. I’ve promised Julia.”

“You would dance only with married women. No speculation there.” Trembath paused, considering that. “Which is rather a genius thought. Granger, might I dance with your wife?”

Thomas shook his head, sighing. “So much for a drink. Ask her yourself, Trembath, I am not my wife’s keeper. What are your thoughts on husband and wife dancing together? I’d very much like to dance with Lily myself, but I would not wish to offend.”

“This is Cornwall, not London,” Trembath reminded him. “You may dance with whomever you see fit, even your wife. There will be a waltz later, if you wish to keep that one for yourself. And given the state of your wife this evening, I cannot say I blame you. She’ll be the most sought after lady of the evening. Safe that she is a married woman, no doubt.”

“Gage, you will give Granger ideas of putting an armed guard outside the door of his wife’s chambers.” Basset chuckled, then started in the direction of Mrs. Roskelley with Trembath following shortly thereafter in the same direction to ask after Lily.

And again, Thomas was alone.

The conversation had proven a distraction from his inner turmoil, but it hardly solved the issue. Even now, watching his wife move to the center of the room on the arm of his friend, he felt the urge to curl his fingers into a fist and snarl for anyone to see. And this all for a man that he knew, that he trusted, and that he was assured had no interest in anything surrounding his wife but a dance partner who would equally have no designs.

What had come over him?

Gnawing at the inside of his lip, Thomas grumbled silently and turned from the room. The gaming tables would be safer for a while, and he had promised Mrs. Roskelley that he would mind her husband. Perhaps he could draw them both out for the waltz when the time came and find sanity amid the madness of it. If there was any to be found.

“Have you ever met a man who enjoys the waltz, Granger? Because I have not.”

Thomas glanced over his shoulder at John Roskelley, grinning wryly. “No? Have you ever considered the proximity that a waltz allows for an extended period of time with the woman of your choosing? Have you been married so long that you forget the pleasure of such a thing?”

Say what you would about John Roskelley, but the man was