Page 70 of The Trouble with True Love

“You can’t let fear stop you from making decisions like that.”

She laughed. “Says the man who’ll never marry.”

“Really, Clara.” He made a scoffing sound, set aside his champagne, and reached for his drawing pencil. “It’s not the same thing at all.”

“Yes, it is. It’s exactly the same.” She laughed again as he shook his head in denial. “All right, then,” she added, settling herself on the edge of the desk beside him as he took his chair. “How is it different?”

“An editor can be sacked,” he pointed out as he resumed sketching. “A spouse, alas, cannot.”

“I agree the risk is higher, but surely the rewards are, too.”

“What rewards?”

“Love, for one.”

He made another derisive sound to show how unimpressed he was by that argument. “My parents were in love, passionately so, if their friends’ accounts can be trusted.”

“It wasn’t a marriage of alliance? I thought it might have been.”

“Why? Because they didn’t live happily ever after?”

She gave his leg a kick with her shoe, demonstrating how little she appreciated that acerbic rejoinder. “So, if they were in love, what do you think happened?”

“My mother was unfaithful. She had affairs. I thought everyone knew that.”

“So, it was all her fault?”

“It was if you ask anyone in our family. Both sides condemn Mama and blame her for the whole messy business. Even her own relations won’t have anything to do with her.”

“What about you? Do you condemn her?”

“I wish I could,” he said with a sigh. He put a last flourish on the sketch before him, set it with the others, and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper to start the last one. “My life would be so much less complicated.”

Before she could ask what he meant by that, he went on, “Don’t think I deem her blameless, because that’s not the case, either. My mother is beautiful and weak and terribly, terribly insecure. She needs constant reassurance and support. My father, being an impatient man, and blunt to a fault, was never capable of filling that sort of need, or even understanding it.”

“What you’re saying is that they were never suited.”

“About as suited as oil and water. From what I understand, I had barely learned to walk before they drifted apart, and by the time I went off to school, they could only tolerate each other’s company if it presented an opportunity to blame each other and tear each other to bits. After I left for Eton, my mother launched her first affair, and... well, the rest, as they say, is history. I’m surprised you don’t know all about it. It was reported in the papers in lurid enough detail.”

“I was only a little girl when they separated, far too young to be interested in reading newspapers. I don’t know any of the lurid details you speak of.”

“You’ve missed nothing by not knowing. When love goes awry and turns to contempt, it’s always a sordid tale.” He paused for another sandwich and a swallow of champagne. “Given the sort of people they are, I can’t fathom how my parents ever thought it could be otherwise.”

“For some, love is blind.”

He nodded. “In my parents’ case, very much so. Especially my father. My mother was already a scandal before they ever met, from what I understand. How he ever thought she’d transform into a faithful partner and loving helpmate, I have no idea. Anyone with sense could have told him that she could never be what he wanted her to be.”

“There was no way they could reconcile their differences?”

“My parents?” The idea was so absurd, he laughed, and it must have been a harsh sound, because she winced.

“Sorry,” he said at once, “but it’s clear you’ve never met them. In most cases when a marriage falls apart, it’s true that the two people attempt to put things back together. If that fails, they still soldier on, being discreet and presenting a united front to the world, even if they privately go their separate ways.”

“What did your parents do?”

He gave a laugh. “They threw discretion to the winds. My mother stopped making any attempt to hide her affairs—she wanted Papa to divorce her, you see, so she gave him ample grounds, again and again, but he refused to free her. He dug in his heels, and the next few years provided the press with plenty of mutual mudslinging to report, damaging my entire family’s social position. The one bright spot was that the scandals spurred the family to work on my father, and though he still refused to divorce her, he did agree to legally separate from her. The separation has failed to rid either of their souls of the acrimony they feel toward each other, but it has at least made it less likely that one of them will kill the other, something that was always a distinct possibility when they lived under the same roof.”

“Not all marriages are like your parents’. My parents were happy together. Until—”

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