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

Thomas looked around at them all, considering his chances of fleeing the room without being dragged back into this emotional fracas he did not need. Considering Blackmoor was standing near the doorway, he’d have to maneuver around him, but he was not entirely convinced the man would prevent his escape.

Then again…

“I’ve ruined everything,” Thomas admitted, dropping his head into his hands. “One financial scare, and I forgot that my wife comes before money.”

“It was a hefty scare,” Whitlock said with some sympathy. “An entire mill is no small thing.”

Thomas nodded into his hands. “Yes, but I shut her out, just as I’d done throughout our marriage before we went to Cornwall, when I was trying to make myself her equal in station.” He looked up, his hands moving to grip the back of his neck. “I threw away everything I had gained out of sheer bloody panic.”

“Sounds familiar,” Blackmoor grunted with a shake of his head.

Monty nodded as well, saying nothing.

Whitlock’s expression did not change. “I haven’t the faintest idea about any of that. I’ve never almost ruined my marriage out of idiocy.”

Blackmoor cleared his throat, the meaning clear for them all, which made Whitlock grin like a schoolboy. “Right, I might have exaggerated my innocence.”

Somehow that did not help Thomas feel any better about it. “What do I do?” he asked them, realizing baring his soul to these happily married men might be his only chance at redeeming himself in his wife’s eyes. Again.

Whitlock held up his hands in surrender. “I have no answers for you there. I realized I’d been an idiot and ran to my wife’s waiting arms.”

“I was almost too late,” Monty told him without shame, “in a way.”

Blackmoor twisted his lips in thought. “I cannot explain mine. I just realized that loving my wife fully was the only way to exist.” He looked at Thomas then, shrugging. “So I have.”

There was something utterly moving about the simplicity of that statement.

Loving my wife fully was the only way to exist.

That was it, wasn’t it?

Another set of rather crisp footsteps in the corridor beyond brought Monty and Whitlock up in an instant, and Thomas stared at them all warily. “What is happening?”

For the first time during this bizarre interview, Whitlock looked uncomfortable. “The chief facilitator of this gathering insisted on her own arrival time and demanded we absent ourselves the moment she did. With that said, we take our leave.”

They were gone before Thomas could ask anything further, and his slow rise to greet the mystery guest was followed by a quick sinking back into his seat in shock.

Lady Tabitha Raeburn marched into the room boldly, her bright blue silks swathed about her in an almost regal fashion. “Ah, lovely. Tea. Pour me a cup, won’t you? Two sugars, splash of cream, and then explain your trouble.”

There was no refusing the woman, and Thomas knew it well, so he did as she bade and handed her the perfectly prepared cup of tea after she had situated herself. As far as his trouble, however…

Lady Raeburn sighed. “Your wife has gone off to Cornwall, and you are here. Why?”

“Lady Raeburn…”

“Call me Tibby, dear. It is always best to do so when I am intervening.”

As long as she knew she was doing so, he’d concede her point. “Tibby, I had business to attend to. I could not…”

“That is a convenient lie you are telling yourself, my boy, and I suspect you rather could have gone off if you had the courage, isn’t that so?” She tilted her head in question, though he wasn’t sure he was expected to answer it. So he did not. “What is it that keeps you from happiness?” she pressed. “Clearly, there is something.”

“Guilt,” he answered roughly. “And shame.”

“For?”

He looked down at his hands, wishing answers lay there. “I married my wife for her money.”

“It’s a well-known fact. What of it?”

“My wife loved me before she married me.”

Tibby coughed a surprised laugh. “And that was a revelation to you?”

He looked up at her in faint irritation. “Yes, frankly.”

Her brow furrowed, and she raised three fingers in the air. “Can you see the number of fingers I’m holding up?”

Scowling, he returned his attention to his fingers. “It should have been obvious, I suppose, but I could not see it. I should have. I should have known she would not need my prospects to convince her I’d be a good match for her.”

“I’ll tell you another revelation,” Tibby interjected almost gently. “She’s loved you while she’s been married to you.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “I know that.”

“Do you?”

He met her eyes once more. “I do. Now.”

“So why are you sitting here?” she inquired, her voice turning soft. “Your plan worked. Did you not seek to find love in your marriage?”

“I did, and it failed.” He snorted softly, shaking his head in disgust. “Possibly worse than the engagement and marriage in the beginning.”

Tibby frowned at him, drumming her many ringed fingers against her knee. “So begin again.”

He lifted a dubious brow. “With what?”

“Do you love her?” she demanded.

“Endlessly.”

“And does she love you?”

“More than I deserve.”

Tibby hummed softly, giving him a satisfied smile. “Perhaps I’m wrong, but I believe that is an excellent beginning.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

“I don’t see why you could not do some renovations here. This room, for example, makes no sense as a sitting room when it is abutted by another sitting room and a music room. Why not remove one of the walls and create a larger sitting room or expand the music room? The prospects out of the windows either way will be magnificent, and it really could be made entirely your own.”

Lily nodded absently at the suggestion, though it was a good one, and pretended a thoughtful smile as she looked where Julia was indicating.

They’d gone through the entire house thus far, estate agent in tow, concocting ideas for improvements.

Well, Julia was concocting. Lily filed each idea away and would sift through them another time to see which she truly would