Page 85 of The Trouble with True Love

Across her desk in the privacy and quiet of the newspaper office, over a snifter of brandy, she told her sister everything about her transformation from wallflower to belle of the ball to fallen woman, and all things considered, Irene took the entire narrative rather well, at least after she calmed down and promised not to shoot Lord Galbraith with a pistol. There were no recriminations regarding Clara’s lost virtue, no lectures on why she ought to have accepted his marriage proposal, several faithful pledges not to tell the duke anything about it, only one sobering mention of the possible consequences and choices Clara might have to face, and then, at last, Irene asked the vital question.

“What are you going to do now?”

Perhaps it was the steadying effects of a few sips of brandy, but Clara was able to give her sister a calm and reasoned response.

“Carry on, of course. What else is there to do?”

“Carry on with what, though?” Irene asked, her voice gentle. “If the worst happens...”

Clara nodded as Irene’s voice trailed off. “I know. But if there is no baby, or if there is and I give it up, then I shall need an occupation, a distraction, a purpose, and even if I go back into society, I don’t think that alone would be enough to satisfy me now. I think...” She paused, took a deep breath and waved a hand to their surroundings. “I think, perhaps... the paper.”

“TheWeekly Gazette?” Irene stared at her as if she’d grown a second head, and no wonder, for in the past, Clara had never expressed a fraction of her sister’s passion for the family business. “You want to run the paper with me?”

“Well, Jonathan’s not going to do it,” she reminded. “Not now.”

“As long as there’s silver in that mine of his, I expect you’re right. But when did you become so interested in running the newspaper?”

Clara began to laugh. “Well, I didn’t have much choice after I sacked your Mr. Beale.”

“What? You sacked him? Why? Was he awful?”

“You have no idea.” Clara explained how firing the editor had come about, and she didn’t mince words regarding her opinion of the man or how difficult it had been to work with him.

“Heavens,” Irene said when she’d finished, shaking her head, looking even more confounded than before. “I had no idea when I interviewed him that he was anything like what you describe. He was so highly recommended, and seemed to radiate competence. And I certainly never would have hired him if I’d known his opinion about working for a woman! Although...” She broke off, frowning a little. “Now that I think about it, he did ask several times about Jonathan. He must have wanted to be absolutely sure he’d be reporting to our brother rather than to me, though I can’t believe I didn’t notice his reasons at the time.”

“Well, you were a bit busy. Wedding plans and all that.”

“I suppose so. But still...” She slapped a palm to her forehead. “How obtuse of me.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Irene, though until Mr. Beale, I never thought you did.”

“Oh, darling, I make mistakes all the time! I’ve just tried not to let you see them. I’ve always wanted to protect you. Speaking of which,” she added before Clara could reply, “why didn’t you ever cable me and tell me of your difficulties? I’d have come home at once.”

“I know, and that’s just why I didn’t do it. You deserved every minute of that trip, and I wasn’t going to deprive you of it. And the funny thing is that even as hard as I’ve been working, and as scary as taking this on has been for me, it’s been rather fun, too. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m really starting to enjoy it—being in charge, making the decisions, exercising my own judgement.”

Irene grinned. “Fun, isn’t it? Still, I’m astonished at all these changes in you. You’re quite transformed, Clara, really. But...” Irene paused, her grin fading as she leaned forward across the desk to put a hand on Clara’s forearm. “If there is a baby, we shall have to consider carefully what that will mean and what to do.”

Clara nodded, appreciating that it was time to put aside procrastination, and prepare for the worst, just in case. “Because I shan’t be able to do both, you mean?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. If you gave the child up, of course you could work here at the paper. In fact, since no one knows what happened between you and Galbraith, your life could pretty much go on as before.”

“My life will never be what it was before.”

Her sister winced at that. “No, darling,” she agreed tenderly. “I don’t suppose it will. But baby or no, are you absolutely sure refusing Galbraith was the right thing to do? You’ve always wanted to be married. And you do love him.”

“But he does not love me. He admitted the fact.”

Catching sight of her sister’s scowl, she rushed on before Irene could go on a hunt for Papa’s pistol. “So, if there is no baby, I would like to carry on with the paper. If I am with child—” She paused, her voice failing, and it took her a moment before she could go on. “I would have to go abroad to have it, Irene. And if I kept it, I would have to stay abroad.”

Her sister gave a cry of dismay. “No, you wouldn’t. You could put the child with a family in the country, pay them to care for it, make it your ward, see it during holidays...” Her voice trailed away as Clara shook her head.

“I think we both know that wouldn’t be possible. People would eventually put two and two together and make four. I could not shame you by staying in England.”

“Nonsense,” Irene said stoutly. “You think I care about that?”

“You would have to care. You’re married now, and your husband and his position would have to be considered. He is a duke. He could not have a wayward sister-in-law and her love child living nearby, and certainly not coming to visit. And what of his sisters? Their social position has already been damaged—”

“I would never turn my back on you!” Irene interrupted fiercely. “Not even for Henry would I ever do that.”

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