Page 25 of The Trouble with Tweed

Besides that, his keen gaze never shifted from her face. She had the sudden fancy that he was able to read her every thought—an idea that threatened to raise color in her cheeks.

“Let’s make a wager,” he suggested with a smile. “Which of your sisters do you think will be asked to dance first?”

“Lily.”

“Do you not think that the gentlemen might be intimidated by her?”

She arched a brow. “I thought you hadn’t noticed how lovely she was?”

He chuckled lowly, a sound that threatened to make her blush in earnest. “No matter how lovely any of your sisters are, they could never compare to you in my eyes.”

Claire had no response for that, particularly because he sounded so earnest when he said it. Though she knew Lily to be far more beautiful than she was, there was part of Claire that wanted to believe Michael…and that was a very dangerous path to trod.

The dance soon concluded, and Michael deposited her near a potted plant and left to wrestle his way through the crush around the punchbowl. In his absence, Claire felt socially adrift. She offered tight smiles whenever she happened to meet someone’s eyes, but no one greeted her.

The next dance was beginning. None of her sisters had been asked yet, but it was still early, and introductions needed to be made. She hoped William was up to the task; it appeared he hadn’t yet budged from his position near a far pillar.

A tinkling, feminine laugh had Claire glancing up. Dahlia Warrington was surrounded by a veritable crowd of gentlemen. It was no wonder—she looked impossibly gorgeous in a deep-purple gown threaded through with gold.

Claire exhaled a laugh through her nose. At least Miss Warrington wasn’t letting William’s idiocy ruin her Season.

“Something funny?” Michael appeared at her elbow and offered her a cold glass of punch as he followed Claire’s gaze. “If your sisters cannot find suitors, perhaps Miss Warrington will be so kind as to lend them one of hers.”

“Indeed.” She smirked.

Michael frowned. “I thought you’d said your brother fancied her?”

“My brother isn’t smart enough to know what he wants.”

Though Claire hadn’t liked Dahlia at the beginning, her opinion of the lady had gone through a remarkable change in their short acquaintance. Though she was wealthy and beautiful and her family exceedingly well-connected, the woman wasn’t vain. Instead, she was practical, plain-spoken, and clear about what she wanted in life. As she watched Dahlia flutter her fan and laugh at one of the many gentlemen surrounding her, Claire was surprised to realize that she quite admired the lady.

Michael grumbled, “He and I suffer from different afflictions, then. I’ve known what I’ve wanted for years.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing worth repeating, I assure you.” He nodded in Miss Warrington’s direction. “Speaking of setting a tone, she appears as if she intends to make good use of the Season.”

“Good for her. She certainly shouldn’t wait around for William to sort himself.”

He leaned closer and murmured, “Rumor has it, she intends to become engaged this year.”

“She and I have similar goals, then.”

“Luckily, you aren’t hunting in the same forest, so to speak. None of the Tweeds have dared to do more than glance her direction.”

Claire frowned. “They haven’t glanced at me, either.”

He smirked. “Perhaps more gentlemen would approach if you didn’t seem so uptight.”

“I’m not uptight,” she very nearly snapped.

“My mistake. You’re the picture of relaxation and ease.” He wiggled her arm for emphasis. It was locked; her shoulders were near her ears with the pressure of it all.

Claire frowned. Perhaps there was something to his assertion. She did feel just a tiny bit worried, if she were being honest. She let out her breath in a great gust.

“Have you had any champagne?” he asked.

“No. Why? Does my breath smell of it?”