She could have done him a world of good, however. He might have behaved with less impulsiveness, discovered the better part of his nature sooner, seen what his life had the potential to be before ruining it all in desperation.
More time with Lily could never be a waste.
He suddenly felt more a fool than he’d considered himself, which said a very great deal indeed. “Forgive me, Lily.”
His plea hung between them, balanced precariously on an invisible thread that ran from his heart to hers, and it waved dangerously with the motion of their carriage.
Forgive me.
Such simple words, ones he should have uttered daily from the day he met her at the altar of St. George’s Hanover Square. She had so much to forgive him for if he had any hope for a future of love, and though she was a saint in his eyes, he could not have rightly said how far her patience and graciousness extended.
Forgive me.
There would be no hope for him if she could not forgive him this, considering all there would be left to forgive.
Lily sighed, smiling with a warmth that would have thawed the whole of winter. “Of course I forgive you. We were both children, were we not?”
“Not that childish,” he managed around a bursting heart, trying for a dry wit in the face of his glee. “I knew well enough what I was doing. I was a fool, make no mistake.”
“We were young,” Lily insisted. “And we’ve established that London does not best enhance our natures.”
Thomas grunted very softly. “No, it does not.”
“Why are we going, then?”
He had to smile at that, finding it strange to do so in her company when for so long he couldn’t bear to. Yet he’d been doing so of late and found it growing easier on each occasion. “Perhaps the older and wiser versions of ourselves might navigate it better, now we are more experienced there. Could we not enjoy the theatre?”
“I think so.”
“And balls?”
“Oh, certainly, if they aren’t a crush.”
“I daresay we could find opportunities to enjoy music.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Then London sounds rather fine, does it not?” He watched the corners of her mouth with interest, noticing the faint lines cradling the hints of smiles as they came and went with her light banter.
“We might even find a card party or two,” she pointed out.
Thomas stiffened with a faint inhale and shook his head. “I’ve sworn off, I fear. But I am happy to attend one, if you’ve a knack for whist.”
The lines at her lips faded, but her eyes retained a gentle light to them. “I should like to become better at cards.” She exhaled a hum, then looked out of the window again, watching the scenery pass. “And you aren’t a nobody. You never were. Not to me.”
Never had bitter and sweet come together in so vibrant a combination. Thomas shut his eyes, fearing the luminescence of the moment would forever blind him. What else could he expect from being wed to an angel?
It was a miracle he had not actually earned his damnation yet.
Or perhaps he had, and this torment was his hell on earth.
And yet, what delight!
Thanks to his years of restraint, he managed not to lunge across the carriage to pull his wife into a desperate embrace, accompanied by showers of adoration, though the image of doing so took place in his head well enough. But he was a man of caution now, and until all was perfect, he could not relent.
He would make his wife love him and make it a joy that she’d married him. And he would earn her hand this time.
Chapter Four
“Bless you for this, Lily. I’ve needed an afternoon of music for ages.”
“Ages? Really?”
“At least three years, I’m convinced of it.” Kate, Lady Whitlock, sighed as she looked through pieces of music Lily had brought over, smiling as though each were an old friend. “Oh, I heard this one played at a musical evening hosted by the Harpers. I adored it! Is it a joy to play?”
Lily glanced at it, then smiled and nodded quickly. “Yes, it is delightful! My fingers feel so alive after I play it, and the coda is simply thrilling.”
Kate shook her head, her smile turning almost blissful. “This is the one I want to play first. May I?”
“You know you need never ask,” Lily reminded her, a bit of a scolding in her voice. “We are in your home, and your instrument is there.” She gestured to the pianoforte as though the direction would help her friend.
With a surprisingly girlish giggle for a marchioness of such dignity and respect, Kate scampered over to the instrument, and within moments, her talented fingers were racing along the keys with a skill that belied her need for any sort of musical afternoon. While she might have wanted to discuss music for a while, she certainly kept her skills well honed. Lily had long admired this woman and her ability to play so beautifully, and the fact that they had become friends, not just acquaintances, was something for which she would be eternally grateful.
Lily listened as her friend played, feeling the peace on Kate’s face too perfect to disrupt with conversation. The piece was a difficult one in passages, and if Lily were the one playing, she would not wish to have the distraction of talking while trying to manage it. But perhaps Kate was more accomplished than Lily in that respect.
She was certainly more talented in music as it stood.
“You’re quiet, Lily,” Kate announced without looking up from the music. “Is something on your mind?”
Lily jerked in surprise, her fingers gliding absently against the paper of the music in her hands. “Not particularly.”
“Then tell me what is not particularly on your mind. It’s been several
