To Charm a Naughty Countess by Theresa Romain

do what was required of him not only as a duty, but with pleasure.
    Though his duty and his pleasure had nothing to do with flaxen hair, with scandalous offers and floral figments. This was a matter of business.
    The idea of trusting anyone, especially Caroline, was… unprecedented. But Michael was not averse to the unprecedented. If he had been, he would not have dredged his money into canals and boiled it away with steam power. And she certainly knew the business of society much better than he. It was quite logical to consult an expert.
    His hands relaxed. “Very well. I would be grateful for your help. When shall we start?”
    Her cool smile turned warm. “As soon as possible, Michael. Tonight.”

Five
    Michael soon learned that Caroline was as good as her word. That evening, she spirited him off to a small dinner party at the home of her friends, the Earl and Countess of Tallant.
    In Tallant House’s gilt-papered drawing room, Caroline made the introductions. Their young hostess beamed at Michael. “I’ve been eager to make your acquaintance, Your Grace. Though we’ve never met, Caroline has mentioned you many times.”
    This was interesting information. “Has she? What has she said?”
    Lady Tallant laughed. A woman of about Michael’s and Caroline’s age, she had warm auburn hair, a lovely face, and a mischievous smile. “I probably ought not to have said that. Now you’ll be miffed with me—or with Caroline. Oh, do choose her, because no one is ever offended by her.”
    “I find that hard to believe.” Michael shook his head. “No. Pardon. I mean, I find that easy to believe.”
    Lady Tallant beamed at him. “Truth and tact? We shall get along famously.”
    Caroline pulled a face. “Emily, hush. You will make His Grace uncomfortable.”
    “Not at all.” Michael realized he sounded hideously uncomfortable.
    “Oh dear.” Lady Tallant looked penitent. “I assure you, Your Grace, I meant only to make Caroline uncomfortable. But she is the most hardheaded creature in the world. I simply cannot discomfit her.”
    “That is a marvelous gift.” Michael could not imagine the blessed buoyancy of a life in which nothing discomfited him.
    “Indeed it is,” Caroline agreed. “I endeavor to provoke Emily into shocking impropriety for my own amusement, and she tries to do the same to me.”
    “I shall never triumph,” sighed their hostess. “Tallant becomes so worried when I am—”
    “Worrisome?” Caroline gave her friend a brilliant smile. “Speaking of impropriety, Michael, let us take on its opposite. There is someone you simply must meet.”
    Lady Tallant raised her brows. “ Michael ? Is this a courtesy title or a discourtesy?”
    “It is a privilege with which His Grace has honored me, and I am grateful for it. There’s no need to be such a harpy, Emily.”
    Their hostess laughed and waved them off as if harpy was the fondest of endearments—which, in Caroline’s buttery voice, it might as well be. Lord and Lady Tallant seemed to be friends of such long standing that they permitted Caroline every trespass, whether a small one like teasing them or a larger social sin such as bringing an extra gentleman to an intimate dinner party with very little notice.
    The other guests had clotted, small bunches of stares, blinks, whispers. Were they whispering about him? Or merely reluctant to have a stranger overhear their conversation?
    Michael’s throat felt parched.
    Caroline spoke low in his ear. “Tonight you’ll meet the first maiden who might suit you, a possible future Her Grace the Duchess of Wyverne. Do come and I’ll introduce you.” Instead of slipping her hand into the crook of his arm, she simply glided away. No touching.
    Thoughtful of her.
    So the mad duke’s bride hunt began. He followed Caroline to a pair of women, both of whom greeted her as though they knew her well. One was as tall as Caro herself, with steely-colored curls and a gown that seemed to have been ornamented by