Page 42 of The Trouble with True Love

“Well, for one thing, you never pull your punches with me,” he grumbled. “How is it that man gets more polite accommodation out of you than I do? It hurts, Clara, really.”

She smiled, recognizing that he was teasing now. “The reason’s plain enough, isn’t it? Beale might quit on me. You can’t.”

“Thank you for the reminder. I feel so much better about it all now.”

“In all seriousness, despite his antipathy for me, Mr. Beale is an excellent editor.” Even as she spoke, she felt a sudden whisper of doubt. “He must be,” she added at once, squelching that traitorous feeling before it could take hold.

“Of course,” Galbraith agreed, his voice so agreeably bland that she felt compelled to justify.

“It’s not really my place to judge the editor’s qualifications. Besides, editor is the most crucial person on the staff, and if Beale quit, I’d be lost. I feel obliged to muddle through with him as best I can, don’t you see?”

“I do see. And that’s why it’s aggravating as hell.” Despite his words, his voice was gentle. “What you really mean is that you have doubts about his abilities, but because he was your sister’s choice and your sister seemingly never makes mistakes, you tell yourself over and over that the man must be worthy of the post and that your own instincts, not your sister’s, must be at fault. In other words, Clara, you lack confidence in yourself, and because of that, you trust your sister’s judgement more than you trust your own.”

She inhaled sharply, surprised by the accuracy of his conclusions, though she knew she shouldn’t be. His understanding of people was what caused them to seek his advice and the entire reason she’d thought him qualified to write Lady Truelove in the first place. “You’re very perceptive. But you’re not here to talk about me,” she added at once. “You’re supposed to be solving someone else’s problem, not mine, remember?”

“In this case,” he said gently, “it’s rather the same thing, isn’t it?”

At once, she knew what he meant, and she looked away, her face growing hot. In recommending the Devastated Debutante’s letter, she ought to have known he’d perceive her true motives. How could he not? She looked at him again, forcing a laugh. “And I thought I was being so subtle.”

He held up the envelope, smiling a little. “Would you like to know what advice I gave the Devastated Debutante?”

She was dying to know, but she shrugged, pride impelling her to assume a diffident air. “I shall know at some point, since I have to approve what you wrote.”

He chuckled. “Quite right,” he agreed, but when she held out her hand for the envelope, he didn’t give it to her. Instead, still smiling, he propped his elbows on her desk, broke the seal, and pulled out the folded sheets within.

“‘Dear Debutante,’” he began, casting aside the envelope, “‘navigating the social season can seem a daunting task, particularly for the shy, but take heart. There is a secret to attracting others, even those of the opposite sex, and if you can successfully implement it, I promise that a more enjoyable season and life await you. That secret, my dear, is simply torelax.’”

“Relax?” Bemused, Clara made a face. “That’s your advice?”

“Yes,” he answered firmly. “And if you’ll allow me, I am happy to elucidate further.”

She sat back, lifting her hands in a gesture of capitulation. “Carry on, then.”

“‘To accomplish this, to achieve the ease of manner that will draw others to you, I advise beginning with the simplest changes first: those regarding your appearance—’”

“I don’t see what one’s appearance has to do with anything,” she interrupted again, a bit nettled.

He looked up again with a sigh, giving her a look of mock sternness over the top of the pages. “And you never will see if you keep interrupting.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Go on.”

“‘Gentlemen, it must be said, are visual creatures, but this does not mean they care about fashion. Leave tight corseting and high-heeled slippers behind, for they do little to help any young lady feel comfortable and relaxed. If you have fine eyes, avoid wide-brimmed hats unless you are in the sun, for though such hats may be fashionable, they prevent young men from looking into your eyes, and eyes are the windows to the soul. If you have a nice smile, bestow it as often as you can comfortably do, for it will draw others to you and help you feel more at ease, attractive, and confident. Find a modiste whose gowns will enhance the favorable aspects of your figure, and trust me when I say that if a young lady has marital ambitions, displaying a bit of décolleté in her ball gown is not a bad thing.’”

Clara made a sound of derision, causing him to pause again, though not, she soon discovered, to chide her for interrupting.

“I take it you don’t agree?” he asked.

“I doubt a girl’s odds of fulfilling her marital ambitions would be all that enhanced by lowering her neckline. Seems terribly superficial, if you ask me.”

“Indeed?” His gaze swept down, making her blush all over and giving her cause to wish she’d kept her mouth shut. After a moment, he looked up again. “As a man, Clara, I have to say that you underestimate the power of a well-cut ball gown.”

She wriggled in her chair, acutely self-conscious. “Isn’t it at least as important to suggest ways the poor girl can make conversation?”

He laughed. “In a word, no.”

Unamused, she folded her arms, giving him a pointed look across the desk.

“Oh, very well,” he said with a sigh. “Since you’re so insistent...” With that, he lifted the pages and resumed reading.

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