The Naked Baron (Naked Nobility)

is the sixth book in the Naked Nobility series.
==Book Description==
TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT
New to London society and rather...awkward...Lady Grace Belmont would just as soon hide behind the palm trees as dance with a man she doesn't know. But Baron Dawson is on the hunt for a wife. Grace's generous curves and remarkable height do not intimidate him. In fact, it would be more accurate to describe his reaction to the charming newcomer as lust. Before Grace can so much as gather her thoughts, she finds herself in his arms, committing one shocking impropriety after another. The Baron's devilish attractiveness--to say nothing of his splendid muscles--is simply impossible to resist. Her beloved aunt and chaperone advises patience, but Grace is not about to listen. The handsome baron is whispering such delightful things in her ear...
(Description from SallyMacKenzie.net)
==Excerpt==
Grace blew out a short, impatient breath, causing the tendrils that had worked themselves free of her coiffure to float briefly in front of her eyes, and glanced back down at her aunt. 
Aunt Kate looked as if she would like to wrap her elegant fingers around her neck in exasperation. 
“You are in a pucker over nothing, Grace. Didn’t you notice in the receiving line that Miss Hamilton was almost as tall as you? And I’m sure there are other ladies present as”--Aunt Kate blushed and coughed slightly--“well endowed.” She patted Grace’s arm. “Your father is an idiot. There will be plenty of gentlemen eager to pay you court.”
That was highly unlikely, but there was no need to argue the point. “You know I’m not here to find a husband, Aunt Kate. Papa has already arranged everything with Mr. Parker-Roth. I just came to attend a few parties and see the London sights.” And enjoy my last gasp of freedom before I give my life over to John. 
“But do you truly want to marry this neighbor, Grace?” 
“Er...” She didn’t, but she was resigned to her fate. She couldn’t live at Standen forever--and marrying for love was a fairy tale reserved to Minerva Press novels. “I’m content with Papa’s choice. After all, didn’t he choose Oxbury for you? And you had over twenty years of marital harmony.”
Aunt Kate’s face suddenly assumed the oddest expression, almost as if she’d taken a bite of stewed eels and couldn’t decide whether to swallow or spit it out. 
“Ah...er...yes.” Aunt Kate cleared her throat. “But I do think you might wish--you really might wish--to look around, Grace. Mr. Parker-Roth may be a pearl beyond price, but how will you know unless you see what else is available? I, at least, had a brief Season.”
“Well...” 
“You can’t go home like a beaten dog with your tail between your legs and give your father the pleasure of saying he told you so.” 
“True.” This was her only chance to see London. She should enjoy the experience. She would think of the male population as simply another sight to see, like London Bridge or Westminster Abbey. “I suppose there would be no harm in looking.”
“Exactly.” Aunt Kate smiled. “And there is so much to look at.” She made a small, graceful gesture encompassing the ballroom. “You have all of society at your feet.”
“Until these ladies finally move and we descend to join the crush.” There was hope. The women had reached the final stair. 
Kate’s smile widened. “Indeed. So take a moment to survey the scene. I see a number of tall gentlemen, don’t you?”
“Perhaps.” There did seem to be one or two men above average height, though it was difficult to be certain from this vantage point.
“Perhaps? Of a surety. Look at the man by the ficus over there. Or the one by the windows. Or those two gentlemen by the...by the--oh, dear God.” Aunt Kate turned as white as a sheet and gripped Grace’s arm hard enough to leave marks.
“What is it? What’s the matter?” 
Aunt Kate was staring at one of two men standing by a clump of potted palms. The fellow was tall with dark hair, graying slightly at the temples. Distinguished looking--not alarming in the slightest. What could be the matter with--
Grace’s gaze traveled to his companion. 
Oh.
Her heart began to thud; heat flooded her face. For a moment she forgot to breathe.
This gentleman was even taller and roughly ten years younger. His black coat stretched tight across impossibly broad shoulders, and his hair, dark blond and slightly longer than fashionable, waved back from a broad forehead. He had deep-set eyes, high cheekbones, a straight nose, firm mouth...and was that a cleft in his chin? 
He was staring at her, but not in the highly obnoxious fashion of the other men. Oh, no. She met his gaze and felt a jolt of...something. The feeling fluttered down to lodge low in her belly. 
What was the matter with her? Could the sooty London air be affecting her constitution? She’d never before felt this heat, this heaviness in-- 
She flushed. Could he tell? 
A corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. He could tell.