Something Old

thinking of the empty chair beside her, its vacancy feeling rather blatant at the moment. “And if he doesn’t take it?”
There 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.”
That was something, he supposed, though it seemed difficult to compare a marriage of convenience and a marriage that should have been one of love. The only similarities were unhappiness and actual marriage, as far as he could tell.
Still, the Whitlocks had a marriage now that Thomas could only dream of, and dream he would. Dream he did.
“Tell me about your failed evenings,” Whitlock prodded, sitting back in his chair more comfortably. “What happened?”
Thomas immediately shook his head. “I don’t need to drag you into this. I believe the less people involved in my marital issues the better. I’ve already dragged Monty into this.”
“Yes, so he said when he wrote to beg my assistance on your behalf.” Whitlock scoffed softly. “But I cannot see him being particularly helpful if you’re trying to woo your wife. He didn’t woo his in London, she won him over by her own masterful ways at Knightsgate. Beth did all the work there, I have no doubt.”
“Lily will be glad to hear you think so,” Thomas replied with a laugh. “Beth is one of her dear friends.”
Whitlock nodded. “I remember. And with Monty being her late cousin’s husband…” He paused, giving Thomas a bewildered look. “Why is he helping you when his loyalties lie with Lily?”
Thomas scowled, taking a quick sip of his own drink. “Thank you for drawing the battle lines. I had thought Monty to be my ally, as he has a clearer insight into my wife than I feel I do at present, but perhaps he is only doing what he thinks will ruin me and spare Lily.”
“I’m not implying that Monty cannot be objective,” Whitlock said. “As a matter of fact, I think there aren’t many men who could be as objective as Monty in anything. I only meant that his personal stake in the affair is not aligned with your side.”
In actuality, Thomas didn’t think anyone would align with him. He was surprised that Whitlock was even listening to him, couldn’t believe that Monty had let him finish the question, didn’t know why he thought any of this would work in his favor.
Why should it?
“No one would be aligned with my side.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything about sides,” Whitlock grumbled, shaking his head. “You’re not at war with your wife, are you?”
“Depends on the day. There’s a war of silence at times, but for the most part, I avoid her.” Thomas looked down at the wearing on the table, faint but evident. “It’s easier. I don’t see the disappointment in her eyes, and I don’t make anything worse by saying the wrong thing.”
The marquess raised a brow. “Have you made a habit of saying the wrong thing?”
A humorless smile crossed Thomas’s face. “The beauty of saying little is that one has a far less opportunity to say the wrong thing.” The smile faded and he sighed. “I don’t know, Whitlock. I asked Lily to come to London in an attempt to court her as I might have done before we married. As I had planned on doing, I suppose. But we are not the same people now as we were then, and we have developed such habits…”
“The routine of London has stifled you?” Whitlock suggested in a surprisingly dry tone.
Thomas met his eyes. “Yes, I think. How did you know?”
Whitlock’s smile was brief, but genuine. “Life in London can be a wonderful thing, but it can also put a strain on a couple. Kate and I are always more relaxed with each other, and in general, when we are away from all of this. When in London, we fall into our usual patterns and almost never see each other. She has her interests and friends, I have my business and associates, and those circles take over.”
“So, in other words…”
“I’m not entirely certain London is the best place to woo your wife if you’ve spent enough time