Chapter Twenty-Nine

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

T he Next Morning, The Marquess of Trentham’s Town House

Lucian had plans for the day. Plans to learn precisely how to be charming. After last night, he realized it would not be easy convincing Gemma to give him a chance. It would take every bit of his skill and then some. Which is why he’d sent a note round to someone who knew all about charm. Meredith’s brother, Ashford Drake, The Marquess of Trentham. It was also why Lucian was even now sitting in Trentham’s study.

The marquess had a desk, but it had been turned into more of a sideboard of sorts, with bottles of alcohol and glasses sitting upon it instead of papers, ledgers, and an inkpot. In fact, if the man had an inkpot, Lucian didn’t know where it was.

Trentham had long ago declared himself a lifelong bachelor, but he’d also been quite clear that he had no intention of seeing to his estates, attending sessions of Parliament, or doing mundane things like meeting with solicitors. In fact, he’d handed off all his work to his secretary. Ash spent his time carousing, drinking, and being charming.

A more devil-may-care chap did not exist. And Trentham was never without a beautiful woman on his arm. Charm, you could say, came naturally to the man. Which was precisely why Lucian was here. If one wanted to learn to be charming, one went to an expert.

“Tell me again what exactly you’re trying to do,” Trentham said as he poured them both a large glass of brandy.

Lucian cleared his throat. His errand was embarrassing, but he and Trentham had been good friends since they were lads. Trentham would keep anything he shared a secret. “I wish to win over my wife.”

Trentham cupped a hand behind his ear. His brow furrowed. “Pardon? I thought I heard you say you wish to win over your own wife ?”

Lucian shifted in his seat and bit his lip. “I did.”

Trentham cocked his head to the side. “What would you want to do that for? The woman is already married to you.”

Lucian nodded. Trentham didn’t believe in marriage. So much so that one day at Court, he’d announced to the King himself that he had no intention of marrying. Ever. The King had apparently thought it was a jest, but anyone who knew Trentham well knew that he was quite serious. The man gave no cares about his title, his estate, or an heir. In fact, he’d been quite vocal when his father had been alive, telling the previous marquess that he had every intention of letting the estate rot. And Lucian thought he had issues with his father. Apparently, Trentham won that contest.

Regardless of his unorthodox lifestyle and choices, Trentham was a decent man and a good friend. He would help. Lucian knew it. Though he’d also be the recipient of a lot of good-natured ribbing in the meanwhile.

“Isn’t the entire point of marriage that you no longer need to be charming?” Trentham continued, handing Lucian his brandy glass. He was giving Lucian a look that clearly indicated he thought he’d lost his mind.

“In some instances, perhaps,” Lucian allowed, taking a large sip. It might not yet be noon, but this was damned humiliating. The drink couldn’t hurt. “But in my case, I need all the help I can get.”

Trentham took a seat behind the desk and pushed away some of the bottles so they could see each other. “It’s no great mystery,” the marquess said. “Women want what everyone wants.”

“Which is?” Lucian prodded.

“Attention, of course.”

Lucian nodded. “Sounds easy enough. But in practice, it’s much more difficult.”

“Not really,” Trentham continued. “Women like to be treated as if they are special.”

Lucian blinked. “That’s it?”

“Essentially, yes,” Trentham replied. “And the truth is, they are special. So it’s not difficult to do. For example, when you’re with a woman, you should never mention another woman. At least not another woman you’re interested in.”

“I’m not interested in another woman,” Lucian replied, frowning.

“All the better for you then,” Trentham replied with a wink.

“What else?” Lucian demanded, moving closer to sit on the edge of the chair. This was already interesting. He’d come to the right spot. He could learn a lot from the marquess.

Trentham lifted his glass to his lips and took a sip. “Women like to be treated as if you only have eyes for them. They like to be given gifts, complimented, and cherished. Above all, respected.” He shrugged. “That’s what they want. Simple, really.”

“Respected? Cherished?” Lucian breathed. Who knew? But it hardly sounded simple.

“Yes. The problem is they often won’t come out and tell you these things. Would make it much simpler if they did, honestly. But I’ve figured it out through trial and error, mostly.” Another wink from the marquess, and he raised his glass as if in a toast. “That and asking pointed questions to the sorts of women who’ll give the answers.”

Lucian’s frown deepened. “ Not noblewomen, I take it.”

Trentham’s cheeks puffed with the air he blew into them. “I avoid noblewomen like the plague. They’re only interested in one thing… Marriage.”

“But the way to charm them is the same?” Lucian clarified.

“I expect so. A woman is a woman,” Trentham replied, grinning. “Look, the easiest way to learn what a woman wants is to ask her.”

“Ask her?”

“Yes, you know, questions. Ask her how her day was. Ask her what is bothering her. Ask her what she would like for breakfast.” Trentham waggled his eyebrows after that last bit of advice.

Lucian cleared his throat and tugged at his waistcoat. Trentham certainly wasn’t subtle, but perhaps women liked that sort of thing. “Anything else?”

Trentham shrugged. “Be confident. Most women abhor a man who isn’t sure of himself.”

Confident? No problem there.

“But not overbearing,” Trentham amended.

Oh, well, there was the problem then. Lucian had already guessed he would fare better with Gemma if he was less imperious. He’d been nothing but overbearing since they’d married.

“Ask her opinion on things that matter. And take her advice.”

Lucian shook his head. That hadn’t been anything his father had ever told him. The old man would be spinning in his grave now if he heard this. He couldn’t remember ever hearing his father ask his mother for advice. And if she’d given him any, he wouldn’t have taken it.

“And talk to her,” Trentham added.

“Talk? About what?”

“The weather, the races, the news of the day. The same things you talk about with any friend.”

“Friend?” Was Gemma his friend? Could she be? He’d never thought of such a thing.

“Yes. Friend. Women are friends too, you know.”

Lucian expelled his breath and shook his head. “You’ve listed so many things. I was hoping there would be just one trick to seem charming.”

Trentham cocked a brow. “But that’s just it. Charm isn’t a trick.”

“Isn’t it?” Lucian drawled.

“No. It’s not, actually. Charm isn’t about pretending to be someone you’re not. It’s about listening. It’s about truly caring about how someone else is feeling. Discovering what’s troubling them. Asking them about themselves. Caring about the answer. Charm isn’t false. Not true charm, at least. And most people, astute people like Gemma, can immediately spot the difference.” He winked again. “Of course, being witty doesn’t hurt either.”

“I’m not witty,” Lucian assured him, groaning.

“Then mind how she is feeling. Ask her. Truly listen to her answers.”

Lucian rubbed his knuckles against his forehead. Emotion. That’s what Trentham was saying. Ask about feelings? No wonder Lucian had been rubbish at being charming his whole life. His father had taught him from a young age that showing emotion was strictly forbidden. There’d been no asking about feelings in his household. There had only been one thing: appearance.

“How are you feeling, by the by, about what I just said?” Trentham asked.

How was he feeling? How was he feeling? God, the question alone induced panic.

“Take your time,” Trentham replied. “I know it’s difficult for you.”

Lucian took a deep breath. He could do this. He needed to begin the sentence with…“I feel…” He took another deep breath for good measure. “Honestly, I feel…frightened. As if I already know I’ll fail.”

Trentham cocked his head to the side. “And you think you’ll fail because…?”

“Because I have no earthly idea how to care about someone’s emotions or how to show mine,” Lucian blurted.

“That’s not true. You just shared an emotion with me. And one that is not easy to share at that.”

At Lucian’s inquiring look, Trentham said, “You told me you’re frightened.”

Lucian pressed his lips together. “I did, didn’t I?” Trentham had a point. Had he ever told another living soul he was frightened before? And he’d just shared that with another man. Not only that, it felt good to admit it. Freeing, actually.

“Yes. And it gets easier the more you do it.” Trentham clapped him on the shoulder. “Just be honest with Gemma. Tell her what you’re feeling. Ask her what she’s feeling. I promise you’ll get much further with her that way than by ordering her about.”

Lucian lifted his chin. “Who says I was ordering her about?”

Trentham grinned and lifted his glass. “We’ve been friends a long time, Grovemont.”

Lucian couldn’t argue with that. “All right. I’ll try it.”

“Good. It also helps me to behave toward women in the exact opposite manner my father would have done so.”

Oh, now that was solid advice.

“Pay attention to your wife,” Trentham continued with another grin, tipping his glass toward his friend in salute. “What do you have to lose?”

Oh, only his marriage, his reputation, and his future heir. But who was counting? If paying her attention and sharing his feelings was the way to convince Gemma to give him another chance, Lucian would do it.

He had to.