Something Old

here without doing so.” Whitlock hissed, spinning his cup on the table. “Or if you have practiced avoidance regularly. Not a routine to return to, frankly.”
Thomas rubbed his brow in irritation. “Then why the devil would Monty suggest I do so?”
“Because it’s away from your home and there are things to do.” Whitlock pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing. “He’s not wrong, there are many activities in London, and several opportunities to take advantage of.” His eyes flicked back to Thomas. “I’m not sure you or your wife are the sort of people for whom London holds any particular draw. Am I wrong?”
“No,” Thomas replied simply. “But I had to get away from Rainford if I wanted a hope of winning Lily.”
“How can you win a woman you already have?”
“You did, did you not?”
Whitlock opened his mouth, then closed it in a wry smile. “Touché. I tend to forget that I did, given the stark contrast between the woman I thought I married and the woman I am now married to. She changed in more obvious ways than I, but the changing was absolutely mutual. That was what made the difference. We both changed.”
“I don’t want Lily to change,” Thomas insisted. He shook his head very firmly, sitting up and tapping on the surface of the table. “Not in the least. She is perfection.”
“Not true,” Whitlock pointed out.
Indignation roared within Thomas, and one hand became a fist. “I beg your…”
“You want her to love you, Granger,” Whitlock overrode with a firm but gentle gesture of his hand, waving him down. “That is a change.”
The irritation seeped out of Thomas as he began to go cold, his thoughts churning on the statement.
He did want Lily to love him. She’d been fond of him once, friendly for their own sake rather than their families, but how far would that fondness extend? What had she really felt for him? Had there been tenderness in her heart for him? Had she hoped for anything where he was concerned?
He had hoped enough for them both. He had dreams. He had been prepared to fully turn his life around to become worthy of her. He’d felt his soul breathe in a way he’d never felt anything in his life, and Lily was at the center of it.
Yes, he wanted her to love him. So much so he’d married her out of desperation for fear that he would never be able to have her any other way.
Heavens, had he truly been so selfish?
“You’re looking rather ill, Granger. Quite suddenly and dramatically. I’d call you more putrid than peaky. Kindly avoid fainting dead away.”
Thomas tried to scowl over at him, but his face seemed to lack feeling. “If you’d behaved the way I have when you loved your wife, you’d feel peaky too.”
“Clearly we need to discuss my behavior prior to my reconciliation with my wife.” Whitlock groaned and straightened, folding his hands across the table. “What happened on your failed evenings?”
“Nothing.” Thomas shrugged, turning his hands palms up. “Nothing at all. We dined as usual, and I suggested we retire to the drawing room rather than go our separate ways. She agreed, and we went, then nothing. We had nothing to talk about. I tried, I was interested and engaged, but there was nothing to say. Lily tried, she was interested and engaged, but the conversation failed us.”
Whitlock grimaced as though he had swallowed something unpleasant. “You tried the same format for three nights?”
Thomas blinked. “Yes…”
“Oh, gads,” Whitlock grunted, putting his face in his hands. “I am too old for this nonsense.”
“What?” Thomas asked him, completely lost. “What did I say?”
Whitlock dropped his hands, giving Thomas the most sardonic look known to man. “You have the romantic instincts of a child, Granger, and the timing of a newborn.”
Something akin to a boulder dropped into Thomas’s stomach. “I what?”
As though that somehow illustrated a point, Whitlock spread his hands out in revelation. “It’s true. My son could make your wife fall in love with him before you could, and it has nothing to do with the attractive features he inherited from his father.”
“Are you trying to tell me I’m clueless and juvenile?” Thomas asked, more out of interest than offense.
“Personally, I don’t know you that well. In this sense? Yes, I believe you are.” Whitlock stared at Thomas as though he were a strange creature he couldn’t fathom. “How did that happen? If I recall, you were well on your way to courting her before your marriage. I recognize your financial difficulties spurred on the trip to the altar, but you were headed there anyway, in theory. That could not happen without some romantic intelligence.”
A defeated air settled around Thomas, and he sank back against his chair. “I didn’t have the guilt and shame I carry now. I wasn’t as quick to assume the worst of myself or concerned that I’ve hurt the woman I love.”
“You’re afraid, aren’t you?”
“I’m a damned coward when it comes to my wife,” Thomas nodded fervently, completely unashamed to admit so. “Terrified to the core.”
Whitlock whistled low. “That makes this more interesting.”
Thomas snorted. “Don’t you mean more difficult?”
“You’re already trudging over a mountain pass without a guide, so the only way it gets more difficult is if your wife hates you.”
“She might,” Thomas pointed out glumly. “I’ve hurt her enough.”
Whitlock rolled his eyes, rubbing at his brow again. “Granger, I like you well enough, but if you play the martyr one more time, I’m going to like you less. You’re not perfect, which is not a crime. You could have done better, but you did not. You want to change things, which any wife would appreciate. You actually care, which makes you better than roughly half of Society, and I’m being generous in my estimation. If you want any chance of actually succeeding in this endeavor, you’re going to need to stop being afraid and start being attentive.”
“I am attentive!” The protest was ripped from Thomas before he could stop himself and sounded more