Page 9 of The Trouble with Tweed

Michael wished with his whole heart that this wasn’t a farce, that Claire felt an ounce for him of what he felt for her. If someone was in danger here, it surely was him. Yet he could not bring himself to stop, even though he’d realized the jeopardy he was in.

“You have always been more beautiful than all the other ladies.” He was tugging on the fingers of her glove now, one by one—a shocking display, and yet he could not seem to help himself. “Always so much more intelligent, so much more interesting. Please, Claire,” he murmured, though he wasn’t sure precisely what he was asking for.

Even so, she looked inclined to give it. Her eyelids were half-closed, her face warm and her expression languid. Any trepidation that had been there at the outset had receded in the face of whatever emotion she wore now. He found he quite loved the look on her, the softness of it. He wondered if she’d allow him to put that expression on her face every day for the rest of her life.

Claire’s eyes met his, and everything Michael had ever wanted seemed just within his reach. This was not just an act, not anymore. This wasn’t some way for him to make a point—whatever it had been. That goal paled in the face of this new possibility.

She felt it, too—he was certain of it. Claire leaned forward, her lips barely parted.

I must be careful, Michael chided himself. For all her sharp angles, she is an innocent lady.

“Pardon me, my lord,” Horace said, walking back into the room.

Claire jerked back, eyes wide. Michael felt in that moment he could have cheerfully murdered his butler.

“Oh, excuse me.” Horace flushed, turned, and walked out, but his momentary presence had demolished whatever spell had been between them.

That’s it, Michael thought. The man is fired.

“You’ve proved my point.” Claire averted her eyes and cleared her throat.

“Which is?”

Michael was too dazed to follow the train of their conversation. He felt as if he’d been on the precipice of some wonderful, life-altering event, and had it stripped from his fingers at the very last moment.

“You are a rake. Through and through.” Claire stood abruptly, her glove still gaping at the wrist where he’d unbuttoned it. “If you insist on making a mockery of me, if you won’t help me, I’ll simply find someone who will.”

The thought of Claire going to a true rake and presenting her proposition had Michael sitting up straight. A gentleman with more experience might have been able to seduce her more thoroughly. That thought made Michael want to punch someone—preferably his own butler, as the man had failed him twice that morning alone.

“Very well,” he said abruptly. “Sit back down. I shall help you.”

“You will?” Claire resumed her seat, leaving quite a bit more distance between them than before.

“Of course. We’re old friends.”

His heart rate was still coming down from the interlude they’d just shared. Whether or not Claire believed it had been real on his part, it was. Michael intended to ensure that they spent as much time together as possible in the coming weeks.

After all, now that Michael knew what he wanted, now that he knew what was missing, he wasn’t going to give it up without a fight.

“We’ll need to get started immediately,” he said. “We’ll speak again tomorrow after my mother leaves. As for today, I’m already going to be dreadfully late for my fencing appointment.” He stood, grasped her hand, and pressed a quick kiss to her palm before she could snatch it away. “Horace will see you out.”

CHAPTER 3- CLAIRE

After Michael’s abrupt departure, Claire was ushered out the front door with all due civility. She stood on the stoop feeling as if she were a half-drowned shipwreck survivor who’d just been washed upon a foreign shore. She struggled to catch her breath as she blinked distractedly at the sunshine.

It took several moments before she realized she was lingering at a single gentleman’s door in full view of whoever might be passing by. This was a fashionable neighborhood, full of the peers she’d face in a ballroom in only a short time. She steeled her spine, opened her parasol, and pointed herself toward home.

What had just happened?

When Claire had arrived at his house, she’d been in charge, in control. And then somehow…she hadn’t been. She flushed and increased her pace, remembering those few charged moments when he’d pretended to seduce her.

It had certainly been pretend on his end. It had only served to prove how susceptible she was to such a force. It had taken him but moments before Claire had been ready to allow him to remove her glove.

There had been one moment where she’d been so drawn in by his words, by the emotions coursing through her body, that if he’d wanted, he could have kissed her…

Thank goodness the butler had interrupted when he had. The entire experience had just proved what she’d always thought of rakes. They were dangerous, especially to someone with limited experience, like herself.

Claire slipped in her front door to find the house in a rare state of silence. With three of her sisters at home, preparing for the Season—the other four were in Paris with their governess and chaperones—their house was typically busier than a carriage station on a Friday afternoon.