Page 4 of The Trouble with True Love

This god, this delectable feast for feminine eyes, stirred in his chair, his splendid shoulders lifting in a shrug, and the move caused Clara to tear her gaze away. She did not want him to catch her staring. But as he spoke again, she couldn’t resist leaning closer, curious to hear more.

“What does every man spend his money on, Lionel?” he said, his voice light and careless. “Wine, women, and song. And cards, of course.”

“But especially the women, eh?”

The two men laughed together at that bit of raillery, but Clara couldn’t help feeling let down. Adonis seemed rather a rake. Not, she feared, a noble god at all. And rakes, as she well knew from her father’s example, never truly reformed.

She had no chance to speculate further on Adonis’s character, however, for the voice of the man called Lionel returned her attention to the conversation at hand. “No, what I need from you isn’t money, old chap. I need advice about love.”

Those words reminded Clara that she was expected to dispense some of that particular commodity herself this afternoon, which meant she ought to stop eavesdropping on other people’s conversations and return to her own task. But before she could reach for another letter, Adonis spoke again, giving her pause.

“Good God, Lionel, why would anyone want advice about love from me?”

Clara, who had been asking that very question of herself, wondered what Lionel’s answer might be.

“It’s Dina, of course,” he said. “She’s dropping hints about matrimony, and I’ve got to find a way to slip the hook. That’s where I’m hoping you might be able to advise me. You’re so good at that sort of thing.”

Clara was a bit shocked. Adonis, however, merely seemed amused.

“And which is my talent?” he asked with a laugh. “Staying free of marriage, or advising others how to do so?”

“Both.”

This was not the sort of problem Lady Truelove would choose to tackle in her column, but nonetheless, Clara was intrigued. She’d asked for help, after all, and help did often come from the most unlikely places. Keeping her head down so that the man opposite wouldn’t detect her eavesdropping, she leaned even closer.

“Are you sure you want to slip the hook? Your inamorata is rather a catch herself, you know. She’s not only a rich widow, she’s also young, exceedingly pretty, and most agreeable company—quite a prize for a lowly MP like you. There’s many who’d deem you a very lucky chap.”

“True,” his friend agreed, sounding as if he considered himself anything but fortunate. “You wouldn’t, though. Everyone knowsyouropinion of marriage.”

“Not everyone, sadly. Despite my aversion to that outmoded and wholly unnecessary institution, certain members of my family are determined to see me chained to it, and in pursuit of this goal, they insist upon hurling desperate debutantes at me every season. But not many men share my cynical view. I certainly never thought you did.”

“I don’t, really. It’s just that...” Lionel paused and gave a heavy sigh. “I’m not sure I want to marry right now.”

“Ah.” There was a wealth of understanding in the word. “What you mean is that you’re not sure you want to marryher.”

“I suppose that’s it,” Lionel mumbled, and Clara felt immediate compassion for the young lady in question. “She’s not really my sort, you know. I’m such an ordinary chap, and she’s part of theton.”

“Poor girl.”

“That’s just it. Dina’s not a girl. She’s five years older than I am. And being a widow, she knows her way about all right. When she made her attraction to me so plain, I thought all she wanted was an affair. I thought, ‘Why not?’ I was flattered. What bloke wouldn’t be?” He sighed again. “It all seemed so simple. So straightforward.”

“You’re talking about a woman, Lionel. Nothing is ever simple or straightforward.”

“Don’t I know it? The point is, I never thought she’d wantmarriage.”

“Ladies usually do, once we’ve slept with them,” Adonis murmured, and at those blunt words, heat flooded Clara’s cheeks. She knew just what “slept with” was a euphemism for, thanks to the explanations of her forthright sister, and she felt a growing indignation on this Dina’s behalf. Whoever she was, the woman was obviously being quite ill-used.

“Deuced inconvenient of them, I know,” Adonis went on, “but there it is. That’s why I steer clear of respectable young ladies as often as I can. Invariably, they expect marriage.”

And why shouldn’t they?Clara wondered, feeling prickly and a bit defensive.What’s wrong with wanting to be married?

“Dancers and actresses,” he continued, adding to her ire, “are much less bother.”

Bother?Clara bristled at the word. Women who wanted honorable marriage were a bother?

“That’s all well and good, but hardly helpful.”

“My dear Lionel, what is it you expect me to say?”

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