“You’re still not explaining all that well,” Della said through a clenched jaw. Was it possible he was that dense not to realize what he was implying? No, of course he knew. Hence his laughing tone of voice. Was it possible he was that much of a lout?

Entirely possible.

“Do you mind sitting down?” he asked as he sat again. Not waiting for her to sit first. So perhaps her assessment of him as a lout wasn’t far from the mark.

“Of course. Do explain,” she said in a prim voice. Della lowered herself into her chair, placing her hands on her lap.

“It turns out I will be reentering London Society. As the heir to the Duke of Northam.”

“Fascinating,” Della murmured. She wished she could restrain her response to him, but she couldn’t. It was either maintain her antagonistic facade or leap on him.

She knew which option she should take, even if it wasn’t the one she wanted to take.

But he was speaking. She had to concentrate on what he was saying, not how he made her feel.

“I have faced battleships, fearsome storms, and the most voracious boll weevils while at sea. None of them terrify me as much as the thought of all those unmarried Society ladies discovering there is an eligible duke’s heir in their midst.”

She had to laugh at his horrified tone.

“It’s not a laughing matter,” he said, even though his expression acknowledged that it indeed was. “I want you to be my guide and to let these women believe I am already spoken for. Already engaged to be married, in fact. You will not, of course, be obliged to marry me. I would make it a part of our bargain that you do not.”

“You’re that irresistible?” she said, accompanying her words with an eye roll. Even though she knew the answer to the question.

“It’s not that, although yes, I do believe I am,” he answered, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. “It’s that someone who is in line to inherit a dukedom, no matter what he looks like, would be irresistible. I do not want to end up accidentally married. I don’t want to be married at all.”

He sounded so decided she had to wonder what had set him against the tradition. He couldn’t have had the same experience as she; he was a man after all.

But that was not her concern.

“So am I to understand that you want me to pretend to be your betrothed so that young ladies won’t fling themselves at your head?”

“Something like that, yes. And in exchange I’ll help you find Wattings.”

“That sounds like a wonderful bargain,” Della said as she stood again, “but there is a flaw in your plan.” She hesitated, but she had to be honest. Even to this loutish viscount. “I am not accepted in polite Society.”