Page 86 of The Trouble with True Love

“I know.” She paused. “And we don’t even know if there will be a child. But if there is and I decide to keep it, you will have to come abroad to visit us, without Henry.”

Irene gave a sob and caught it back. “You would be giving up everything, Clara. Your life, your future, all your hopes—” Her voice broke, and she stopped.

Watching her, Clara smiled a little. “Dearest Irene,” she murmured. “All this must be so hard for you, for you have always tried so hard to protect me. But I cannot marry a man who does not love me just to be safe and protected. And I can’t always take the easy way through life, even if a life of ease is what you want for me.”

Something in her voice, perhaps the resoluteness of it, caught her sister’s attention, for Irene pressed her lips together, and a sweet, poignant sadness came into her lovely face.

“What are you thinking?” Clara asked, watching in astonishment as a tear rolled down her sister’s cheek.

“I think...” Irene choked up again, then gave a little sniff and leaned forward to take her hands. “I think my little sister is all grown up.”

She wouldn’t see him.

At least twice a week, Rex called at Belford Row, only to be told by their grenadier of a housekeeper that Miss Deverill was not receiving. He tried calling at the newspaper office, but that strategy brought no greater success, for her secretary always informed him that she was busy. He tried using charm, but he must be losing his touch with the ladies, for Miss Evelyn Huish remained adamant and unimpressed, a stalwart sentry at Clara’s gate. Resisting—for the present anyway—the temptation to invade Clara’s office by force, he turned to other means of dealing with the situation.

He wrote letters. She did not reply. He sent flowers. She sent them back. He got drunk, often. It didn’t help. One night, God help him, he even found himself standing on the pavement outside the newspaper office, champagne in hand, staring through the lit windows hoping to catch a glimpse of her. He even attempted to go in, but the door, when he tried it, was locked. A good thing, probably, for all the instincts that had made him such a rake in his salad days told him that invading her privacy would only hurt his cause. Left with no other options, he was forced to wait.

He had a slew of relations and friends, and once the news spread of his marriage proposal and Clara’s rejection, all those friends and family attempted to distract him. During the seemingly endless days of summer, invitations poured in from every quarter, beckoning him to the country for hunting and house parties, but he refused them all. He had no intention of being away, should Clara write him with news of her condition or decide to take pity on him and agree to receive him.

When friends came to town, however, he was happy to spend an evening with them. Lionel he saw more often than most, but though the two of them managed an occasional game of tennis, and one rousing night of celebration in late August when he learned of Lionel’s formal engagement to Dina, Rex preferred to spend the majority of his time alone. He walked the streets of London a lot, usually places with some connection to Clara—Upper Brook Street, the sidewalk in front of Montcrieffe House, Mrs. Mott’s Tea Emporium, the newspaper office. He even returned to the spot in Hyde Park where she’d tried to launch that kite, and as he thought of her laughing with her nephews, he wondered when he would hear news of a baby. Oddly, he was sure there would be one, perhaps because he’d been prepared for that outcome from the moment he’d entered her bedroom that night at Lisle.

His father, probably in the mistaken belief that Rex’s proposal had been rejected for financial considerations, not only reinstated his estate allowance, but doubled it.

Usually, when Rex was in funds, his mother managed to learn the fact and came calling for a touch, and sure enough, only days after his father’s reinstatement of his income, his mother was at Half Moon Street asking to be received. To his surprise, however, he soon learned that money, for once, was not her reason for coming.

“Rex,” she cried, beautiful as ever as she came across his drawing room, hands outstretched in greeting. “I’ve just heard. Oh, my darling boy, is it really true, or is it just a rumor?”

“Is what true?”

“That you proposed marriage to a young lady and she refused you? It must be gossip, for no girl would ever turn you down, but my source was quite adamant—”

She stopped, and he realized something in his countenance must have given him away, for she gave a cry of dismay and yanked her hand from his, cupping it to his cheek with what he thought might be genuine motherly concern. “It is true! Oh, Rex, my dear.”

He pulled out of his mother’s hold, forcing a laugh. “Only time in my life I shall ever propose to a girl, and she turns me down flat. One of life’s little ironies, what? And just what I deserve.”

“Nonsense. Any girl would be lucky to have you. And besides, you shall persuade her. You’re not giving up after one refusal, surely?”

“More than one, I’m afraid.” He pressed his lips together, smiling a little. “She refuses me every time she refuses to see me, Mama.”

“But why? The only reason she could have for turning you down is money, and your father reinstated your allowance—by a substantial amount, I understand.”

He sighed. “How you ferret these things out never ceases to amaze me.”

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, tugging at her ear. “I have my spies,” she murmured.

“Yes, my butler, no doubt. Every time I pay him whatever back wages I owe him, I’m sure he fires off a letter. He’s a fool for you.”

“Yes, well...” His mother paused, smoothing her skirt and trying to look modest, but she succeeded only in looking like a contented house cat. “He is such a dear, sweet man. If he wasn’t a butler, I’m sure I’d have fallen in love with him ages ago.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he agreed. “So, now that you’ve heard my income’s reinstated, is that why you’ve come?”

“No, no, I don’t need a penny, but it’s very sweet of you to offer.”

He hadn’t offered, but pesky little details like that always sailed right past his mother’s beautiful head. “You not in need of money?” He laughed. “My, there’s a first time for everything.”

“No, I came because I have news of my own, darling, which I shall tell you presently. But first, you must assure me that you’re not giving up on this girl you’re after.”

“Really, Mama, of all the people in the world, I’d have thought you the last one to encourage anyone to get married.”

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