Kate nodded thoughtfully, her eyes still on the page. “Well, that sounds promising, doesn’t it?”
“I’m not certain.”
The playing on the piano stopped just before the coda, and Kate turned on the bench, staring at Lily with her dark eyes. “You aren’t certain?”
Lily grimaced at her expression. “Does that make me horrible? I ought to be certain about my husband, surely.”
Kate laughed a little, pushing up from the bench and coming back over to her. “I think you forget with whom you are speaking. I had no affection for my husband when I married him. At all. And that did not change for some time after we married. We detested each other and made no efforts to amend that. If I was certain of anything about my husband, it was that he was the vilest of creatures.”
“I had forgotten,” Lily murmured, thinking back to her earliest days in London. Back then, Kate had not been Kate but Katherine, and she had been cold, proper, and reserved. It was simple enough to forget that the two women were the same, as they were so different from each other, and Lily had only ever known this kind, warm, open version of Lady Whitlock.
Perhaps she might understand the turmoil Lily had been feeling in the last few weeks and certainly since Thomas had begun to speak more.
“I would love my husband to be the husband I wanted from the beginning,” Lily admitted with a raw honesty she hadn’t expected. “But I am so accustomed to being disappointed that I can’t bring myself to truly hope… He spoke as though he wanted to go to London with me, not as though he was already going to go to London and I could come along. I don’t know why, and I don’t want to know why.”
Kate reached out to take Lily’s hand, rubbing gently. “You’ve hoped and been disappointed one too many times to trust hope any longer. I know.”
Lily met her eyes, confused by the admission. “You hoped? I thought you despised Lord Whitlock.”
The tender smile that crossed Kate’s face made Lily ache to be able to do the same. “I did. I also found him impeccably handsome and hoped he would appear, swearing he was in love with me one day. I would never have admitted that, of course, but it was true.”
“I want my husband to love me,” Lily whispered. “Heaven knows, I have loved him.” Tears began to fill her eyes, and she looked down at their clasped hands, sniffling softly before laughing. “I haven’t cried over him in a year.”
“It won’t stop even if you do find a marriage of affection,” Kate warned gently, gripping Lily’s hand tightly. “Your husband will bring on your tears for a variety of reasons and emotions, if there is love between you.”
“That’s not particularly encouraging.”
Kate laughed once. “With Derek, I cry tears of laughter. I cry tears of tenderness. I cry tears of joy. He doesn’t hurt me anymore, at least not with intention, and if he is aware of a hurt he caused, his apologies make me cry as well. The tears are different, Lily, as is everything when more of your heart gets involved. I am not telling you not to wish for love, I am telling you that crying over your husband is not something for which you should be uneasy. Or ashamed.”
Lily blinked back the tears, managing a weaker version of her smile. “Emotion over one’s husband is frowned upon in Society, Lady Whitlock.”
“Society has had quite enough to say about my emotions for my husband, thank you, Mrs. Granger.” Kate smirked wryly, patting Lily’s hand once more before drawing back. “And what do you mean by speaking as though you do not presently love your husband?”
The question took Lily aback, stopping her heart for a moment. “I beg your pardon?”
Kate gave her a look. “You said you have loved him. Have. Loved. So you do not love him now?”
Lily opened her mouth, but there were no words for her.
Did she love her husband? Still? Now?
Had she stopped?
“I don’t know,” Lily heard herself say. “Is that so terrible?”
Kate shook her head very firmly, elegant dark tresses swirling in their curls about her face. “Love is confusing, and that is a paltry statement.”
That was true, and Lily knew it well. She had been in love with Thomas for at least a year, if not two, before they married, and she had never been a fanciful girl. She had never had grand illusions or dreams, but still her heart had pined for him in a way that awoke something in her. Something new and exciting, something she had never seen in her parents or any other couples she had known.
She had loved him. And she had started to believe that he might come to love her when he started to spend time with her, ask after her, walk with her. Then they had married, surprising her immensely, as they had never spoken of feelings in any depth. Still, she’d loved him. When nothing had come of the marriage, none of her affection had been returned, and she was given no hint of the man she’d known, she’d loved him. Painfully, but she had.
Now?
“Am I still married to the man I married?” Lily asked, not expecting any sort of answer from her friend. “Or am I married to the man I wanted to be married to?”
Kate’s brow furrowed, marring the perfect visage. “Is the man the same?”
Lily hummed a humorless laugh. “That, I believe, is the question.” She shook her head slowly, picking up pieces of music again and pretending to look through them. “We’re supposed to go to the theatre tonight. Would you and Lord Whitlock like to join us?”
“Are you ending this conversation?” Kate shot back.
“Yes,” Lily said simply, glancing over at her. “Please.”
Her friend nodded and picked up additional music. “I think you ought to play this piece. A beautiful largo with an engaging duet between hands. What do you think?”
“I’d love to try it.” Lily took the music and looked it over. “So, the theatre?”
“I believe I can speak for Derek and agree to come. It would be lovely to attend.”
The theatre was bustling, filled to the brim with members of Society eager for the same evening as Lily and Thomas. There were several people she knew there, each of them politely welcoming and expressing their delight at seeing the Grangers in London.
This was the nature of their relationship with their peers, to be greeted and engage in meaningless conversation that was superficial at best.
Lily didn’t mind. It was simply the nature of Society. She knew most of these people were a good sort, truly were happy to see her, and she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that it was pleasant to be among most of them.
The curiosity over the nature of the Grangers’ marriage was something that would likely never fade and was something Lily would never be comfortable with.
Everyone had been startled when the favorite reserved fixture, Thomas Granger, had married Lily and that it had been for her money. Everyone also knew that Lily wasn’t pleased with it. So, they were watched by curious eyes and analyzed for gossip.
All the more reason to find London a trial rather than a pleasure. But, in the company of friends, it became bearable.
“Aren’t you the popular woman tonight?” Kate asked beside Lily as they strolled to the box Granger had reserved. “All eyes are on you.”
A brief shudder ran down Lily’s spine. “I don’t see why. Loveless marriages happen in London all the time.”
“But yours wasn’t supposed to be loveless,” Kate murmured, linking her arm with Lily’s. “Speculation had swirled about the pair of you, surely you know this.”
Lily glanced at her. “Granger showing any interest in a woman would cause speculation. But it hasn’t gone away, and we’ve been married for five years.”
“That’s because people like you.” Kate rubbed her arm, inclining her head regally for passersby. “And the fact that Granger chose you out of all the women in London makes them wonder. They want good things for you, and the way your marriage was conducted was unexpected.”
“Believe me, it was more unexpected than anyone can know.” Lily swallowed, keeping a pleasant smile
on her face for effect. “I feel as though I am on display.”
Kate made a soft sound of acknowledgement. “Yes, rather much so. Curiosity and envy are a peculiar mix, are they not?”
“Envy?” She glanced back at their husbands, walking behind them without much conversation, then looked back at her friend. “How so?”
“If I have to tell you why you are envied, you are not nearly so intelligent as I give you credit for,” Kate quipped with a wink. “You have an attractive husband with a good reputation, you are a beautiful woman of great loveliness and poise, and you are well situated in the world. By many accounts, that is perfection, my dear.”
Lily barely managed to avoid scowling. “If only it were.”
“I suffered from the same, Lily. Now that my husband and I are truly happy, and seen to be happy, we are more envied. It is a rarity in our world and Society, so you mustn’t blame them.”
“I know.” Lily sighed, tapping her fan into her open palm. “Thank you for coming with me tonight. I think it will elevate the evening from what it might have been with just Granger and myself.”
Kate nodded once, her cream silk gown enhancing her complexion from its usual porcelain appearance to a rosy glow that made her even more incomparable. “Unless your husband had particular plans, I would agree. There is nothing worse than an awkward evening with one’s husband.”
Lily smiled at the dry wit, wondering just how much her friend would understand her situation, given their conversation earlier in the day. There was no denying that the Whitlocks had been famously independent of each other in the beginning of their marriage, never being seen in the same place at the same time if it were possible, but now it was impossible to find one without the other.
Would Kate have endured the evenings that Lily feared? Being seen with one’s husband in a setting where you could not be much separated and thus were judged for how you behave one with another?
Lily couldn’t have endured that, not with the stilted attempts at conversation they’d had during their meals together. They were so out of practice from true conversation with each other and so hesitant in their topics, making the tension in the air more unbearable than any of their previous mealtime conversations, no matter how staid the topics. Imagine having to endure hours of the same, sitting in silence and then having nothing to say in the intervals.
Why was he trying to talk to her now? What was to be gained from that?
While there was awkwardness, she could not approach the subject of children. If they were to find a new ground to stand upon in their marriage, they would need to be firmly planted there before she dared request to change things again.
Which meant more waiting and more enduring.
They entered the box and arranged their seats within, and Lily left the seat to her left open, Kate taking the seat on her right.
Would Thomas take it? Would he take advantage of the opportunity to sit beside her? If he truly wanted to be in London with her, if he wished to be more open with her, if there was any intention of drawing closer to her, she’d leave a place for him to try.
Kate sat and turned to speak softly with her husband, a coy smile on her lips and a flirtatious edge to her tone. Lord Whitlock sat behind her, his grin inviting, his fingers tracing the edge of his wife’s delicate sleeve on her upper arm.
It was an intimate scene, enough that Lily felt more an intruder than an observer. She looked away but found her attention drawn back repeatedly.
A mixture of curiosity and envy.
How could they get to this place from where they had been? How had they bridged years of pain in such a way? Was it possible that Lily and Thomas could find the same?
Thomas would have to love her first. Small details.
Her eyes flitted to the empty seat beside her, the rest of her body attuning to the position of her husband.
He was behind her still, standing, she thought, and was saying nothing. Since she could not see, she could not say if his attention was attuned on her, on the stage, or on the Whitlocks. For some reason, it mattered which of the three had his focus.
If any of them did.
And she desperately wanted him to sit beside her, even if they did not speak. Why wouldn’t he sit?
“Pardon me, Lily,” Kate suddenly broke in, turning to Lily, her cheeks rosier from flirtation with her husband. “I’ve abandoned you.”
“Not at all,” Lily said, looking behind her briefly to see her husband situating himself in the chair beside Lord Whitlock behind the ladies rather than the seat beside her.
Her stomach clenched in distress, and she rubbed her gloved fingers together in her lap. Either her husband was unobservant, or he was stupid.
She wasn’t sure which was worse. Or, perhaps, he did not care.
But if that was the case, why had he said he wanted to go to London with her? What was the point of pretending they would become something if they were not going to attempt it?
“I could have been well attended,” Lily added in an undertone, shaking her head.
Kate leaned closer, distracted by the other guests in the theatre with them. “What was that?”
“Nothing.” She swallowed with some difficulty, focusing her attention on the stage. “Not a thing.”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Kate began in a lower voice, “but I asked Whitlock to make Granger comfortable this evening. I know he does not particularly like the theatre, nor being out and about in Society, and Whitlock isn’t all that fond, either. Perhaps they can form a friendship.”
Lily managed a fleeting smile. “Wonderful. Granger could use more of those.”
Kate narrowed her eyes at Lily for a moment. “Dear girl, I enjoy every opportunity to associate with you, as you should know. I do happen to know that you are closer to Marianne Gerrard and Lady Gemma Blackmoor. Why would you opt to spend time with me rather than them?”
“I’m having tea with them tomorrow,” Lily assured her, forcing a lightness into her tone that she did not feel. “Marianne’s children are so young, and Gemma isn’t out yet after having her son.”
“And you are having difficulty with being the only unhappy, childless mother of your friends.”
Lily bit down on her lip very gently, her eyes flicking back to her husband before returning to Kate. “Yes.”
Kate nodded very slowly as the overture for the opera began. “You are happy for them, but the reminder of your own deprivation of the same wears on you.”
All Lily could do was nod, her throat tightening. She cleared her throat, reaching for Kate’s hand. “Please don’t tell them. I couldn’t bear for them to think they need to hide their children or their love for their husbands… I want to share in their joy, be part of it, but sometimes I cannot keep from feeling selfish.”
“There is no crime in that,” Kate assured her. “Was that why you were planning to remain in the country this Season?”
Again, Lily nodded, pretending to adjust the gloves at her elbow. “My enjoyment in London centers around my friends, not Society. The seclusion of Rainford suits us both, and I have enough there to occupy me.”
Kate’s eyes widened, searching Lily’s. “Then why are you here, Lily? Why be miserable in London when you can be comfortable in Hampshire?”
Lily pointedly shifted her eyes behind them, and Kate’s eyes followed, then returned with a knowing light. “I was invited,” Lily murmured.
“Ah.”
“I still hope,” Lily told her in a whisper, finally admitting it to herself at the same time. “I shouldn’t, but I do. And I’m here now, and nothing has changed. I still hope, Kate.”
“Good,” Kate replied in the same tone. “Don’t stop if you can help it. Don’t.” Her eyes flicked to Thomas behind them, then back to Lily. “Give him a chance. And yourself.”
Lily tilted her head just a little, thinking of the empty chair beside her, its vacancy feeling rather blatant at the moment. “And if he doesn’t take it?”
The
re was no answer for that question, not from Kate, not from Lily, and certainly not from Thomas.
There was no answer possible yet.
But she couldn’t spend the rest of her life waiting on a hope, could she?
Something brushed against her ear, and she stilled, her breath catching in her chest. Warm and nimble fingers adjusted her earbob then slid away, grazing the skin of her neck as they did so, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
Had he intended to touch her like that? Had he simply been doing her a kindness?
Whatever it was, something in the pit of her stomach curled, and that determined flicker of hope burst into an all-out flame.
Chapter Five
“Well, this isn’t working.”
“One failed night at the theatre does not ruin everything.”
“Do three failed evenings count?” Thomas asked, not at all consoled by the attempt at comfort.
Derek, the Marquess of Whitlock, frowned at him in confusion. “What do you mean by evenings? And failed how? What is the standard by which you are measuring success?”
Thomas had been asking himself those same questions daily. What was he supposed to do?
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Thomas admitted to his newest friend, wondering how in the world he’d gotten himself here, in this club, discussing his marriage. “I’m completely out of my depth. I don’t know what I expect from any of this. Happiness? Contentment? A less miserable existence?”
Whitlock chuckled and sipped slowly from his decanter. “I can understand that last one. All I ever wanted in my marriage was a less miserable existence. And I didn’t have your good intentions. Or your affection for the woman you married.”
Thomas glanced up at him. “Do you think that makes a difference in my case?”
“Well, I am no expert in matrimony, love, or good husbands, though I have improved over the years,” Whitlock said on an exhale, his green eyes fixed on something on the table before him, “but I am fairly certain it will make all the difference.”
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