Carina, Countess of Dorchester, glanced out at the square for the twentieth time and clutched the window casing for support when she saw that striding along the pavement towards her house was an exceedingly tall man, dressed in up-to-the minute fashion and wreathed in an aura of power and control. The Duke of Stirkton cut such a superior figure that men stepped aside and women turned to stare as he passed them on the footpath. The fact that he was oblivious to their attention and admiration made him more interesting, and for the first time in many years, Carina felt a glimmer of hope. 

“Oh, Gertie, yes, yes,” she said, clapping her hands and spinning in a giddy circle before the window. “I think Georgie’s way out is about to present itself, and sooner than we thought.” 

Gertie joined her at the window but groaned aloud. “Oh, no, no, no, Carina! Not him. The Duke of Stirkton is not the best person to help us introduce the girls to gentlemen.” 

“Why not? He may not be a perfect solution but, with his influence in society, he may provide our best way forward.” 

“You were only going to ask to see his grandfather’s papers. Look at whatever the Duke may have already found, whether it’s letters, directions, or anything else to help us work out the names and locations of those two men.”

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Max  shuddered at Carina’s passion-hazed command to make love to her, self-doubts rose like a thunder cloud. “Love making between us is impossible.” As soon as he’d spat out the harsh words, he regretted them. She pulled back. “Forgive me, but we cannot forget who we are and where we are. Let’s not delude ourselves, or lie to each other.”

She stared with unblinking, moisture-filled eyes, and that blasted pain shot straight through to his gut and caused a raw burn. She stopped his absent-minded rubs at his midriff. “Are you suffering some sort of aliment in your abdomen?”

He bristled. “Of course not. I enjoy perfect health.”

She lifted a brow. “Your veins may run with the bluest blood, but your human form suffers from the same frailties as the rest of us lower mortals. I’ve noticed that you rub your stomach quite often. Perhaps you should consult a physician.”

“Ridiculous charlatans. I’ll not listen to another swindler promising to cure a simple digestive disorder by bleeding me dry with leeches.”  

She gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Max. You’ve already visited physicians.”

“It’s nothing.”