Page 6 of The Trouble with Tweed

“I want you to help me identify the rakes in society so that I may avoid them. When a man begins to court me, I wish for you to help me know whether he’s appropriate.”

“Appropriate how?” His eyes narrowed. “Surely you are privy to more gossip than I am.”

“Not the kind that matters,” she said staunchly. “Not the kind that would prevent what happened with my brother Richard from happening to me again.”

Her lips slammed shut as if she hadn’t wanted to reveal what she’d just said. He warmed with compassion—he knew better than most what she’d experienced because of her eldest brother’s careless disregard, from his squandering of the family’s fortune.

Michael was careful not to show his emotions. Claire had an excessive amount of pride, and his sympathy wouldn’t be appreciated.

“Another thing.” She straightened her back and gave him the full force of her glare.

He knew her well enough to know that she was gathering her courage. He’d seen that precise expression on her face when she was perhaps twelve years old and planning to steal a cherry tart from Cook’s cooling board.

“I want…”

He arched an eyebrow, waiting. It must be something interesting indeed if she was finding it difficult to say the words.

Claire lifted her chin and started again. “You know as well as I do that women are often more interesting to other gentlemen when they’re already being courted.”

He nearly snorted. “So it’s not just my gossip you want. You’d like me to court you as well?”

“I want you to pretend to court me.”

He rubbed his chin. Of course he was going to agree to it, but he couldn’t act too eager or it would put her off the notion altogether. “What would that entail?”

Claire lifted a thin shoulder. “I shouldn’t think it will take too much. Perhaps dancing with me at a ball?”

“Dancing with you?” he scoffed. “I doubt that will be enough. People will think I’m just being polite.”

She grimaced in agreement with his statement.

He continued, “If we’re going to attempt this farce, we might as well do a good job of it. I’ll undoubtedly have to visit your home many times.”

Claire wrinkled her nose as if the thought of him visiting her was more than she had planned upon.

“Very well,” he said before she could overthink it. “I’ll do it. I’ll visit your house daily until you’re settled with someone of your choosing.”

She reared back. “I hardly think daily visits will be necessary.”

“Do you want people to think that I am only mildly interested?” His voice lowered. “If I were truly courting you, I’d leave no doubt.”

She rolled her eyes. “Very well, do as you see fit.”

A moment passed, reminding Michael of the companionable silence they’d once shared. Was it possible that their friendship could be repaired, given enough time?

He tilted his head. “If you don’t want a rake, what kind of man do you want?”

Claire raised her eyebrow and stayed silent.

Michael huffed. “How am I to identify the mark if you won’t tell me what you’re looking for?”

“I wouldn’t call it a mark,” she said, scowling.

He chuckled. “It’s the longest con there is—marriage to someone who doesn’t know that you’ve singled them out for the purpose.”

“I’m sure the arrangement will be mutually agreeable.”

“That depends largely on how agreeable you are going to be in marriage. What precisely are you looking for?”