Page 31 of The Trouble with Tweed

This was hardly helpful information, though Michael felt somewhat cheered by the fact that Beatrice was on his side in the matter.

“I certainly don’t think I’ve earned the distinction.”

Beatrice frowned. “Do you drink to excess?”

He shook his head. “An occasional port after dinner, brandy when I’m congested. No more than any other gentleman, I’d guess.”

“And how many ladies have you made fall in love with you?”

“This month, or would you like the count for the calendar year?” he asked lightly.

Beatrice narrowed her eyes at his teasing.

He huffed a laugh. “My entire life, I’ve only ever courted one lady. Why Claire believes otherwise, I’ve no idea.”

“Neither do I, but there must be some reason.”

He didn’t point out that their conversation had come full circle, the way it often did in his mind. Michael didn’t delude himself into believing that he was brilliant, but he’d done well in his studies and found himself capable of solving most problems if he applied himself.

This mystery with Claire was the one exception.

Beatrice shrugged. “Well, no matter. I might be able to assist in helping you in the meantime. I don’t suppose you know what her favorite flower is?”

“White roses. The ruffly ones that smell nice.” Michael wiggled his fingers in the air distractedly, trying to express the shape of the petals even as he watched a gentleman smile charmingly at Claire.

What was the fellow’s name again? Gilden? Glidden? Gildy?

Beatrice pressed, “Her favorite tea?”

“Anything with oranges in it,” he murmured.

Lord Gildy was telling Claire something that apparently required a great many hand motions.

“Favorite biscuit?”

“Gingerbread.”

Michael smiled and leaned back. Claire had just poorly concealed a yawn behind her gloved hand. Gildy looked rather deflated—Michael doubted he’d return.

“Frosted gingerbread,” Beatrice corrected, though she must have found the victory hollow, for she frowned. “I concede that you have the basics covered, but do you know why she’s so angry with me as of late?”

Michael knew a trap when he smelled one—he had three sisters of his own. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t betray her confidence.”

“Very well.” She nodded, a smug sort of smile upon her face. “You have passed the test. You may consider me firmly on your side. I’ll assist in any way I can.”

Though Michael wasn’t sure what help Beatrice could be, he was still grateful. When it came to wooing Claire, he would take any help he could get.

CHAPTER 9- MICHAEL

The following week found them riding through the park in Michael’s new phaeton. It was a lovely day, sunny with just a hint of coolness. The sky was a breathtaking, endless blue. His companion was witty and beautiful; her maid sat on the rear-facing rumble seat behind the carriage, offering them an appropriate level of privacy. The beautiful horses held their heads high and proud as the expensive livery jingled in time to their steps, and the springs were comfortable.

All in all, Michael thought it was very nearly the perfect outing. Or it would have been, if the lady at his side weren’t intent on discussing other gentlemen.

“I hadn’t thought it would be quite so much work to find a boring husband,” Claire admitted. Today she wore a fetching day dress in striped muslin; the green brought out the color of her eyes.

“They do seem to be a bit scarce,” Michael said. “Perhaps the demand for Tweeds is high this year.”

Claire slid him a scowling glance. “You speak as if they’re a commodity.”