Something Old, Rebecca Connolly [ebook reader for laptop TXT] 📗

had never felt quite able to write with complete honesty to her sister after that, at least with regard to her marriage. She had to be perfectly content and satisfied, comfortable with the state of things, and seeking nothing more than the life she presently had. Rosalind likely had never been fooled by Lily’s attempts, but it was a fine way to protect Lily’s heart and insecurities regardless. And her sister had let the lies stand, never once prodding for any deeper truth.

Perhaps her own happiness had given her a greater understanding of Lily’s lack thereof, and a mutual understanding to avoid the discussion of it had silently settled between them both. But when the day came that Rosalind returned to England, perhaps with a child or two in tow, Lily would find herself confiding all to her sister over a cup of tea, she had no doubt.

And nothing she would say in such a conversation would surprise her sister.

What could she tell her about her retreat to Cornwall? If she was too vague, Rosalind would press for details. If she was too detailed, Rosalind would suspect her of hiding something. If she admitted that she had faint hopes of finding romance with her husband while here…

Well, by the time Rosalind received that information and wrote back to inquire more, the whole affair could have ended in disaster, and Lily would have to disappoint her and relive the pain in the retelling.

“An express for you, madam,” George suddenly announced as he entered her sitting room, the missive on a platter.

Lily plucked it up in surprise, brow furrowing as she broke the seal. Her eyes scanned her husband’s familiar scrawl, her eyes widening as she read. “We’re to attend a dinner party this evening at the home of Lord Basset. He saw Mr. Granger in Redruth today and extended the invitation even at this late date. What must his wife think of that?”

“Forgive me, madam,” George said, clearing his throat. “Lord Basset is unmarried, I believe.”

Lily flicked her dark eyes up to him before returning to the letter. “Small mercies, then, as I cannot think a wife would appreciate having the number of her guests so suddenly altered. Gracious.” She bit her lip, then returned her attention to George. “Would you please inform Mrs. Clare that the plans for dinner must change again? And extend my profound apologies. I had just confirmed her change to the menu.”

“Of course, Mrs. Granger.”  George nodded, leaving the room.

A dinner invitation? With only a few hours prior to the event? She supposed it was possible, but she did find it strange, particularly when she had no idea who the man was or how he was connected to her husband. If he was at all. They could have met sitting in the same taproom, for heaven’s sake.

If the man were unmarried, he would not have a wife with whom Lily could form a connection or friendship, but perhaps he would have invited ladies among his guests who might suit. As much as she would love to spend her time with her husband alone while they were here, she could hardly monopolize every moment of his time. He did have business affairs in Cornwall, and there was nothing her husband loved so well as business. All the better, then, that Lily find opportunities to amuse herself for the times when her husband preferred to spend his time elsewhere.

If nothing else, Cornwall could become a more distant place for Lily to embrace solitude.

Glancing out of the window, barely catching a glimpse of the sea beyond, Lily suddenly longed to walk along the cliffs and moors, even along Dandrea Beach itself, and find consolation for herself to turn to when she would need it most.

But for now, she needed to finish this letter to Rosalind, then prepare herself for a dinner party among strangers.

“Lily! Lily, are you ready?”

Lily fussed with her appearance once more in the mirror, the curls at her temples still seeming too billowy, the plaits and curls at the crown of her head too towering. But at least the pale yellow flower pins suited her coloring, and the ribbons did not feel excessive. She sighed and pushed herself up from her toilette, brushing at her white skirts and hurrying from her rooms.

Pierce had left her some time ago, content with her craft and assuring Lily that she looked lovely, but the longer Lily had stared at her appearance, the less certain she had become. But there was not anything she could do about it now, and they would be tardy if she waited longer.

That would not do at all for their first foray into local Society.

“Yes, I am sorry!” she called as she hurried down the corridor. The cool metal of her dangling pearl earbobs clapped against her neck in time with her paces, adding a strange cadence to her flight.

Thomas stood just before the gallery, eyes on his pocket watch. Her approach brought his head up, and he stilled, his eyes lowering to the hem of her gown and slowly making their way up the length of her figure. Lily felt her face heat as he did so, though it could just as easily have been the anxiety of her haste warming her cheeks.

“Will it do?” she asked, looking down at herself, taking in the yellow ribbons and flowers adorning her white skirts. “I was uncertain as to the expectation of dress for our company, so I thought…”

“You look beautiful.”

She looked back up at him, throat closing at once. His eyes were fixed on her face, darker than she had ever seen them, expression warm, if not pleased.

There was nothing to do but smile at that.

She took in the appearance of him as well. “And you look rather fine as well, sir.”

Well was putting it mildly. He looked the picture of a gentleman in the country. His black suit coat over a yellow waistcoat of satin, a white cravat neatly