The Trouble with True Love (Dear Lady Truelove #2)

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The Trouble with True Love (Dear Lady Truelove #2) Page 31

by Laura Lee Guhrke


  “No, earlier, when you asked me if we were becoming friends. I knew I wanted you like mad and that I didn’t want to be your friend, but I didn’t know at the time that was love. And I didn’t know it that night in your office, either, or when I literally fell at your feet on the tennis court. I didn’t even know it when I came to your room.” He lifted his hands to cup her face. “That’s why, when you asked me if I was in love with you, I said no. I didn’t recognize it. I thought it was lust, and I didn’t want to give you any false hopes that my feelings would deepen. I didn’t think they would, and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  Her anger flared up, and she slid her hands up between his arms and shoved them away, then she took a step back. “It was a little late by then,” she choked, fighting tears.

  His lips tightened, and he swallowed hard, watching her. “Yes,” he agreed. “I’m just hoping it’s not too late to win you back.”

  Inside, she was shaking. “When did you make the amazing discovery that you really do love me after all?” she demanded, still not ready to believe.

  “It was when I received your letter. Yes,” he said as her gaze slid to his breast pocket. “That letter. You told me there was no baby and my obligation to you was now over, and that’s when I knew—” He broke off, waiting until she looked up at him again to continue. “I knew I was in love with you because your letter broke my heart.”

  His voice cracked on the last word, and Clara’s protective shell cracked apart as well. “An organ,” he added, laughing a little, “I didn’t even know could be broken, until you.”

  A sob escaped her, a sob of joy that disintegrated all her anger, fear, and hurt. “Rex, I—”

  “Let me finish, please. I must say these things now while I have the chance, for I know you may never give me another. Without a baby, you see, I knew I had nothing left to offer you, nothing to hold you. Your sister’s returned, I’m not writing Lady Truelove for you anymore, and when I got your letter, I knew my only remaining link with you had been severed. I couldn’t bear it, Clara. I still can’t.”

  “Rex—”

  “I’m not asking you to marry me, I’m asking you for the chance to court you honorably, as any woman deserves.” He took a breath and grabbed her hands. “I want the chance to win you, to show you that my affections are unwavering and my love is true. I know you don’t love me, and I know I can’t make you do so, but I want to try anyway—”

  “You’re wrong,” she cried, unable to bear it, unable to wait another moment to tell him what she felt. “I do love you.”

  “What?” He stared at her, understandably astonished. “You mean it?” When she nodded, he let go of her hands, cupped her cheeks, and kissed her mouth. “You’re serious?”

  “Yes. I love you. The truth is,” she added, her voice going a bit teary and wobbly, “I’ve been falling in love with you a little bit every day, from the moment I first saw you.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so, woman, for God’s sake?” he demanded and kissed her again. “You’ve been falling in love with me all along? And you never said. I lusted after you, ruined you, proposed to you, and fell in love with you, and you never said a word about loving me. Couldn’t you at least have given me a hint?”

  “No, because I didn’t want to admit it, not even to myself. I fought it every step of the way, denying it because I was afraid, and I was trying to protect myself. I didn’t ever want to fall in love with a man like you.”

  “Because you knew I was not a marrying sort?”

  “Well, yes, that, and because of your reputation, and your looks and—”

  “Wait,” he cut her off. “You refused to let yourself fall in love with me because of the way I look?”

  “Partly, yes. Well, look at you!” she burst out, pulling back, waving her hand in a gesture encompassing his perfect face and splendid body. “You could snap your fingers and have any girl you wanted.”

  “Not any girl,” he said with a sigh, giving her a meaningful glance. “Or we’d have gotten married weeks ago.”

  “Nearly any girl,” she said firmly. “I knew that from the moment I first saw you with Elsie Clark.”

  His brows drew together in puzzlement. “Who?”

  “Elsie Clark, the waitress at Mrs. Mott’s, the girl you practically charmed out of her skirts right there in the tea shop just to show your friend how it’s done. And the fact that you don’t even remember her,” she added as he displayed no signs of recognition, “rather proves my point. I put any desire for you right out of my head, not only because it was always clear you’re not a marrying man, but also because I knew it was a fairy tale. Why, I thought, would a man like you ever fall for a girl like me?”

  “Wait.” He stopped her, wrapping an arm around her waist and hauling her against him. “Stop right there. I’m not going to deny that looks matter, because yours do. They matter to me. From your adorable nose and ripping smile,” he said, the fingertips of his free hand caressing her face, “to your mile-long legs and tiny, pretty feet, I love everything about the way you look. And,” he added, “I believe I made my opinion on that score quite clear months ago, on that same settee we’ve been talking about.”

  She smiled, remembering that extraordinary afternoon and how he’d discussed her facial features one by one. “So you did. And what’s so strange is that even as you made me afraid for my heart, you taught me how not to be afraid of anything else. All my life, I’ve been protected and sheltered by my sister, and I’ve allowed myself to be comfortable there. I wanted to be married partly so that I could continue to be comfortable and safe. The first time I ever had to be accountable for anything was when Irene went away on her honeymoon, and I had to start relying on my own judgment, but I didn’t trust it. I was afraid of making mistakes, and to my mind, you would be any girl’s biggest mistake. But I’ve changed, Rex, and you are the reason why.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, my lamb.”

  “No, it was you. It was all because of you. You saw me in a different light than anyone else ever has, you gave me my first real glimmer of self-confidence, bolstered my judgement when I made decisions—”

  His chuckle of laughter interrupted her. “You mean Mr. Beale, I take it?”

  “Him, for one. I hired you to write Lady Truelove, and though it was a move of desperation, I knew instinctively that you’d be good at it, and you proved me right. You’re the one who told me I should trust myself—”

  “Advice I’ve been questioning ever since you turned down my marriage proposal.”

  “Which I was quite right to have done,” she countered at once. “But my point is that none of these changes in me would have happened if you hadn’t come along. One week of doing Lady Truelove, and I’d have been begging Irene to come home. And I’d never have fired Mr. Beale, or learned not to worry about making mistakes, and I’d never have developed any confidence in myself or known what I was capable of. I’ve been running the paper, hiring staff, making editorial decisions, and it’s been so much easier than I ever thought it could be, because I’ve learned to trust myself and my own judgement. If it weren’t for you, none of that would ever have happened.”

  “Well, if that’s true, could you exercise your judgement in a way that doesn’t make me insane?”

  Smiling, she slid her arms up around his neck. “Most important,” she added softly, “I’d never have known that I was a desirable woman. You showed me that, when you kissed me. That was the turning point, really, for after that, I just started to . . . to bloom.”

  “Yes, so I noted at the time, and what an agony it was to watch it happen, let me tell you. All those other men dancing with you that night at the ball made me feel absolutely savage. And then, seeing you across the dinner table at Lisle, laughing with Paul—Paul, of all men, who is a bigger rake than I ever was—”

  “Coming from you,” she cut in, quoting his own words from the ball back to him, “that’s rich.”

&nb
sp; “I’m not joking, Clara. The hearts of shopgirls all over Oxfordshire are broken now that’s he done at university. And seeing you laughing with him that night at Lisle . . . well, that may have been what pushed me over the edge and brought me to your room that night. As for me,” he added, his arms tightening around her waist, “I want to reiterate what I told you the night we had champagne in your office. I left my rakish ways behind quite some time ago.”

  “My sister would not agree with you there.”

  “Don’t I know it? She was barely civil to me when I called on her a fortnight ago. I think if I hadn’t declared right up front that my intent to marry you was undimmed, she might very well have shot me.”

  “Oh, I know she would have,” Clara agreed, laughing, but her laughter faded away as Rex’s arm tightened around her.

  “So,” he murmured, his free hand sliding up her back to caress the nape of her neck, “are you going to take pity on me at last, and allow me to court you in a true and honorable fashion?”

  “That depends,” she murmured, smiling. “Do you know any discreet hotels where we can retreat during this courtship and go back across the Rubicon?”

  “Why, Clara Deverill, you naughty girl,” he murmured and kissed her. “But no,” he said, pulling back, “that won’t be possible, because if your sister found out, she really would shoot me.”

  “No, she wouldn’t. Not now that we’re engaged. My sister has very modern views.”

  “Still, I don’t think I’ll risk it. But I would ask that we make the engagement somewhat short. When it comes to you, I’m not sure how long I can be honorable.”

  “Would three weeks be short enough?” she asked. “Just long enough for the banns to be read?”

  “Three weeks, then,” he agreed, then bent his head and kissed her, a kiss that was so deep and ardent, so passionate, that when he pulled back, Clara was breathless.

  “Goodness,” she gasped. “Perhaps we ought to get a special license and marry straightaway?”

  “Banns, Clara.” His voice was resolute. “This is true love,” he added severely, overriding her protest. “It has to be done the proper way.”

  “Oh, very well,” she agreed. “But,” she added, rising on her toes for another kiss, “I’m finding us a discreet hotel just the same.”

  His agonized groan just before their lips met told Clara a discreet hotel was definitely going to be needed.

  About the Author

  LAURA LEE GUHRKE spent seven years in advertising, had a successful catering business, and managed a construction company before she decided writing novels was more fun. A New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Laura has penned more than twenty historical romances. Her books have received many award nominations, and she is the recipient of romance fiction’s highest honor: the Romance Writers of America RITA® Award. She lives in the Northwest with her husband (or, as she calls him, her very own romance hero), along with two diva cats and a Golden Retriever happy to be their slave. Laura loves hearing from readers, and you can contact her via her website: www.lauraleeguhrke.com.

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  By Laura Lee Guhrke

  The Trouble with True Love

  The Truth About Love and Dukes

  No Mistress of Mine

  Catch a Falling Heiress

  How to Lose a Duke in Ten Days

  When the Marquess Met His Match

  Trouble at the Wedding

  Scandal of the Year

  Wedding of the Season

  With Seduction in Mind

  Secret Desires of a Gentleman

  The Wicked Ways of a Duke

  And Then He Kissed Her

  She’s No Princess

  The Marriage Bed

  His Every Kiss

  Guilty Pleasures

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  the trouble with true love. Copyright © 2018 by Laura Lee Borio. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers.

  Digital Edition JANUARY 2018 ISBN: 978-0-06-246988-5

  Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-246987-8

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