Page 90 of The Trouble with True Love

Despite Rex’s advice, Clara was happy to be a slave to fashion just now, for having him look into her soul was the last thing she wanted. She kept her head down and her gaze on her plate. From the soup to the wedding cake, she managed to choke down a few bites of each course, but when champagne was poured and toasts were offered to the bride and groom, she only made a pretense of drinking to their health as she stared into her glass and thought of the first night she’d ever had champagne.

They didn’t have olive branches on the refreshments menu.

Had that really been almost five months ago? Clara bit her lip. It was all so clear in her mind, it could have been last week.

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

She could still remember nearly every word of that extraordinary conversation, a conversation that had launched the most exciting, romantic time of her life. A time, she thought, her gaze stealing to him, that was now over and would never come again.

He was murmuring something in the ear of the head bridesmaid seated beside him, but then he seemed to feel Clara’s gaze on him, for he turned his head, looked at her, and went suddenly still.

Their gazes locked, and this time, she could not look away. She could not run, she could not hide beneath her hat brim. And she could not, for anything, avoid the pain or conceal it from him. Inside, she began to shake.

He was the one who looked away, turning to signal the footman to refill his champagne glass. Once it had been filled, he took it up with one hand while reaching for a fork with the other. Then, he rose to his feet.

The tines of the fork tinged against the glass several times before there was silence. In the hushed room, with his glass in hand, Rex put down the fork and turned his attention to the crowd.

“Lords, ladies, and gentlemen,” he began. “I have been asked by the groom to say a few words at his wedding breakfast, a request with which I was happy to comply. You see, some months ago, I had promised a friend...”

He paused and looked at her, and caught in his sights, Clara caught her breath, feeling as if his gaze had just pinned her to her chair. “I had promised a friend that if Lionel and Dina ever made a match of it, I’d put on my best morning coat, stick a carnation in my buttonhole, and give my best groomsman speech at their wedding breakfast, a speech extolling the wonders of true love and the virtues of matrimony.” He paused. “Of course, I gave that promise never dreaming the day would come when I’d actually have to fulfill it.”

Laughter ensued, indicating that many in the room were familiar with his long-held views.

“But here we are,” he went on when the laughter had subsided. “And though everyone who knows me is aware I have been quite a cynical man about love and marriage for most of my life, here I stand. And though any speech I might have given on this topic a few short months ago might well have been poetic and romantic, it would not, sadly, have come from the heart. On this day, however, I’m happy to admit I’m not the same man now that I was then. I used to believe that true love and happiness in marriage were myths, but now, for the first time in my life, I know they’re not. Now, for the first time, I’m able to see the joy that two people can find when they join their lives together.”

He was still looking at her, and Clara’s heart leapt with sudden, unreasoning hope. Did he mean—

He turned away, stopping the question in her mind before it was even complete as he looked at the couple sitting at the head of the table. Clara’s flare of hope fizzled and died.

“We have the proof of true love before us,” he said, still looking at his friends. “It shines like the sun in the faces of my two friends, and I defy anyone to look at them and not believe in it.” He turned again to face the crowd, and when his gaze lit again on her, Clara strove hard not to wriggle in her seat.

Why, she wondered in desperation, did he keep looking at her? What she felt must be obvious now. Why was he tormenting her with it?

Look away, she told herself, but her mind could not will her body to obey her. She could only stare at him, helpless, as he went relentlessly on.

“Having attended many weddings, I’ve heard the words from the Book of Common Prayer many times. And yet today, those words resonated with me in a way they never have before. Perhaps that’s due to the oratory skill of the vicar, or perhaps it’s because I’m just not as cynical a chap as I used to be, but whatever the reason, when the vicar reminded us today of what marriage partners should be—counselors in perplexity, comforters in sorrow, companions in joy—I knew with the deepest conviction of my heart that Lionel and Dina will be all those things to each other.”

He paused, smiling a little, a tender smile that took Clara’s poor heart and shredded it anew, even as she strove to remember that he was referring to his friends, not to himself and her and the vows they might have made had she accepted him.

“And I can only pray,” he said, his smile fading to a grave expression, his gaze steady as it looked into hers, “that one day very soon, a sweet and lovely girl will allow me the privilege of courtship, fall in love with me, and agree to make me as fortunate a man as my friend.”

Clara pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back a sob as he looked past her to the crowd. “Lords, ladies, and gentlemen,” he said, “please charge your glasses and let us drink a toast.” Turning to his friends, he lifted his glass high. “To the happy couple, to the beautiful joy that marriage can bring, and to true love.”

Clara could barely manage to choke down the customary swallow of champagne, for inside her, she could feel hopes rising up again, romantic hopes about him, hopes she’d tried to deny ever since she’d first set eyes on him. It was just a speech, she reminded herself, words he didn’t mean, said for the benefit of his friends. She was reading things into it that weren’t there, things that were impossible. He didn’t love her. He’d said it straight out, no equivocations. And yet, what if...

“Clara?” Irene’s voice intruded, and when she turned, she found her sister’s hazel eyes filled with sympathetic understanding. “We can leave if you wish. Or,” she added gently, “you could see him, if you want to. It can be arranged.”

Agonized, she glanced at him again, wondering what to do. And then, as if it were an answer, he looked at her and his voice echoed through her mind.

Strive to set your fears aside. Savor every moment of your life, and one day, you may find someone at your side who longs to savor those moments with you.

“I want to see him.” She turned, putting a hand on Irene’s arm. “But will he see me? What if he won’t?”

“He’ll see you,” Irene said firmly as she stood up, and she pulled Clara to her feet as well. “I know he will. Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” she asked as Irene led her out of the ballroom and along the corridor.

“To the library.”

---