“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. “Notnoblewomen, 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 gravenow 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. Charmisn’ta 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’mnotwitty,” Lucian assured him, groaning.
“Then mind how she is feeling. Ask her. Trulylistento 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 areyoufeeling, by the by, about what I just said?” Trentham asked.
