Page 60 of The Trouble with Tweed

Claire tilted her head as if considering. “Just how massive is the fortune?”

“Large enough that you will undoubtedly encounter competition for his attention,” he said dryly. “I’m sure that there are some ladies who feel he’s their last option.”

“I don’t feel he’s my last option.”

“Quite right. You’re in the prime of your life. Which brings me to my original point,” he said smoothly. “Instead of chasing the most dreadful men of the ton, why don’t you treat this Season as your brother originally intended it—an opportunity to find someone you truly care for? Someone you love?”

“Because love doesn’t save you from hardship. Love isn’t enough when the collectors come calling.”

He frowned. “I thought we’d already discussed this.”

“We have.” She sighed as if in resignation.

“Besides,” he said carefully, “you speak as if it is clearly delineated. Black or white. Love or poverty.”

“Those who don’t love their spouses have a clear enough head to deal with any troubles that may arise.”

“Is that what you think? That love is a weakness?”

“No.” She shook her head, then blinked up at him through her lashes. “Although perhaps I do, deep down.”

“Do you think it would have made it any easier to go through what you experienced if you didn’t love your family?”

Claire pressed her lips together. “That is the entire point of this exercise— I don’t wish to go through that again.”

“Your goal might be an intelligent one, but I don’t think the way you’re going about it is logical in the least.”

She blinked rapidly and looked out the window.

He softened his voice, canted it low. “Claire, you are a remarkably intelligent young lady. Beautiful in every way. If any lady has a hope of making a man fall desperately in love with her, it’s you. Why on earth would you deny yourself all possible happiness when it’s no decent protection against all that could go wrong in the future?”

“I have already proven that I can lose fiscally and survive,” she said. “But I don’t think I could survive—” At the last moment, she snapped her mouth shut like garden shears, clipping off the rest of her words.

“Love is a risk.” He nodded. “A very large risk. Someone is going to die before the other—it’s just the nature of things. But I would argue that the greatest loss wouldn’t be you losing love eventually. It would be never letting yourself have it in the first place. Claire, look at me.”

Her green eyes finally drifted back to his. Michael gave a gentle smile when he saw that they were full of unshed tears. “You are one of the most courageous women I’ve ever known. Surely you will not be a coward in this matter.”

“A coward?” She blinked; her chin jutted. The softness of the former moment was all but forgotten, frosted over in the face of her wrath. “You’re saying I’m a coward?”

He thought about his assessment, then nodded. “In this, yes.”

“What of you?” she hissed. “You who would risk nothing. You who doesn’t ever ask a young lady to dance except for the sake of social convention. You who retreat from true affection by engaging in shallow trysts. I suppose you would know much about being a coward in the way of love, would you not?”

Though her words stung, he tucked them away for future examination and responded gently. “Then perhaps we should make a deal. I will try to fall in love this Season if you will.”

Claire reared back and blinked as if Michael had proposed something far more shocking than the words he’d actually uttered. “What?”

“You’re right. Other than that once, I’ve never truly engaged in the Season. My mother has been telling me it’s been time for years. I’ll make a deal with you: if you try, I’ll try, too.”

Claire stared at his offered hand as if it were a snake. “You’re going to try to what? To get married?”

Michael chuckled, shook his head. “You and I both know that I could do that next week if I wished. No, I’m proposing something far more shocking and dangerous. That I’ll search for love if you will. True love. I’ll court ladies who interest me, to see if there is anything worth pursuing. In return, you’ll allow yourself to be courted as if it is your first Season.”

As if you haven’t been hurt, he wanted to say.

Claire pressed her lips together and turned back to the window. Michael knew her well enough to recognize that she was deep in thought, and he allowed her enough time to process what he’d said. His words had admittedly been a whim, but as he spoke he’d heard the rightness of them.

Besides, he already knew who he wanted to court; he already knew which lady had captured his everlasting interest. He’d be damned if he saw Claire waste her life, leg-shackled to one of the most boring, gloomy men in London.