Page 34 of The Trouble with True Love

Clara frowned, hating the feeling of being on tenterhooks. “You really do believe in pushing your luck, don’t you?”

He gave a little laugh at that. “You have no idea how true that is,” he muttered without looking at her.

“So,” she prompted when he did not elaborate, “what is this third condition?”

“It’s not so much a condition as it is a request. Or a warning, depending on how you choose to see it.”

“Warning?”

“Yes.” He turned again to face her. “I intend to begin paying you my addresses, Miss Deverill.”

“Paying...” Her voice failed, and Clara stared at him, too stunned to continue any sort of reply. His aunt had hinted something like this might be in the wind, but she’d dismissed that as a ridiculous notion. It seemed every bit as ridiculous now. “I don’t think I quite understand,” she said at last.

“I wish to court you. I should like you to allow me the privilege.”

“What?” She burst out laughing, her usual reaction when anyone caught her utterly by surprise. “But we don’t even like each other.”

A hint of a smile curved his mouth. “You mean, you don’t like me.”

Clara made a face, not the least bit fooled by the qualification. “If you have any liking for me, it’s only because you like women.”

“So I do.”

“And I happen to be a woman.”

His gaze lowered, skimming over her body in that slow way of his, a look that in this small room full of people seemed as intimate as a caress. “So you are.”

At that softly uttered acknowledgement, Clara’s heart leapt in her chest with such force, it almost hurt. Her toes curled in her satin slippers, and heat flooded not only her cheeks, but her entire body, a reaction she found aggravating beyond belief.

She took a fortifying swallow of champagne, working to contain these traitorous and most unwelcome responses of her physical body and think with clarity. “If you have any liking for me, you didn’t display it this afternoon.”

“No, but I was very angry with you. As we already discussed, I’ve gotten over it.”

“And what a relief it is, too. Now I can sleep at night.”

He laughed. “You see? That is one of the things I like about you: your unflinching ability to put me in my place. Most women don’t.”

That, she feared, was nothing less than the truth. “Either way,” she said, “the idea that you are inspired by any romantic notions about me is ludicrous. What is this really about?”

“Believe it or not, even I am capable of being romantic on occasion. But since you insist upon believing the worst about me anyway, I will lay my cards on the table and tell you the unvarnished truth. You will no doubt be relieved to know that in this case I am not being romantic.”

Having never had much in the way of romance, Clara wasn’t quite as relieved as she probably ought to have been, especially when she looked into his devastatingly handsome face. “I see.”

“As the Earl of Leyland’s only son and heir, I am entitled to an allowance from the estate, but that allowance is bestowed at my father’s sole discretion. Recently, in an attempt to control my behavior, he cut me off.”

“Yes, I had heard gossip to that effect. Something about too much high living,” she couldn’t help adding.

He gave a short laugh, though he didn’t really seem amused. “That is the gossip, certainly. And now, as you already know,” he added before she could ask if there was more to the story, “my aunt has withdrawn the income she was so kindly providing me.”

“But why should that prompt you to... to p... pay addresses to...” She paused, feeling as if a thousand butterflies were suddenly fluttering around in her stomach. Taking a breath, she tried to ask her question in a different way. “What does any of that have to do with me?”

He met her inquiring gaze with an unwavering one of his own. “If I begin courting a woman, my income will be reinstated.”

Despite her knowledge of his character, Clara felt a stab of disappointment. It was an emotion with which she was quite familiar—the disappointment of the wallflower when the handsome man walked right by her to ask her prettier friend to dance or when the man seated beside her at dinner kept talking to the girl on his other side. In this case, however, Clara knew feeling let down was not only irrational, it was stupid. But it hurt, damn it, salt in the wounds of all her insecurities.

Still, she couldn’t afford to show any of that, not with the future of Lady Truelove at stake. And it wasn’t as if she wanted him. She was far too clear-eyed about him to do so. Nonetheless, she couldn’t prevent an acerbic bite in her voice as she replied. “I’m flattered, Lord Galbraith. How could I not be, in the face of such overwhelming attentions?”

“Would you prefer it if my reason were the usual one?” His lashes lowered a fraction. “If my request were borne of a deep and passionate regard?”

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