Flirting With Fortune

Chapter Seventeen

God, it felt so good to have her lips pressed against his at last. It had been near torture, painting him when what she really wanted to do was kiss him. Having two of him—the living, breathing, warm-blooded Colin as well as the emerging portrait of him looking at her with those incredible eyes, seducing her without lifting a single finger or saying a single word was pure, delectable torture.

She held tight to his lapels, pulling him to her as if her life depended on it. For his part, he came willingly, slanting his lips over hers and overwhelming her every sense. She opened her mouth, eager to taste him once more, to feel the heat of his tongue slide against hers. His hands slipped around her waist, pulling her whole body against him, even as her arms remained between them.

The feel of being completely engulfed in his arms was so foreign but yet so pleasurable, even more so with the wickedness of it all. The light of the afternoon sun lay across them, heating the right side of her body while the rest of her languished in shadow. His shadow.

His tongue danced with hers, making her moan with the sensation that shot through her whole body at his touch and landed deep in her belly. Colin’s arms slid farther down, cupping her bottom, shocking her at his boldness. She drew a deep breath through her nose, savoring the smell, the feel, the taste of him. Well, he wasn’t the only one who could be bold.

Releasing his jacket, she slipped her hands up the side of his neck, and delved her bare fingers into the silk that was his hair. It was cool and soft—in perfect contrast to the rest of him.

He broke the kiss then, and she started to moan in complaint, but his lips moved across her cheek, down her neck, and explored the exposed line of her collarbone. Oh good heavens, it was an altogether different sensation from his lips against hers. She had no idea her skin could be so utterly sensitive, so perfectly alive to the touch of another person.

A wave of chills ran down her spine, raising gooseflesh on her exposed arms and making her shiver. He pulled away and smiled down at her, their faces almost too close for her to focus.

“You, my little artist, are entirely too delightful for your own good.” He slipped his hands up her bare arms, lightly clasping her fingers and pulling them down. He kissed each hand in turn before releasing them.

Her mind was absolutely reeling with the shared intimacy between them. She had never thought a man could so thoroughly addle her senses—or that she would like it. A delicious thrill rolled down her body like a drop of warm honey. Lord have mercy, did she like it.

But not nearly as much as she liked him.

“What on earth is that ridiculous look on your face all about?”

Colin started, looking up from the law book he wasn’t actually reading to see his cousin striding into the room. “Woolgathering, I suppose.”

Lifting a sandy brow, John shook his head. “Don’t believe you for a moment, old man. If ever a man was thinking of a female, it was you, just now.”

Colin started to deny it, but came up short. Why not share with John? His cousin was as good a confidant as any in this city. “I’ll concede the point.”

“Well done, man,” John said, slapping him on the shoulder before dropping into the chair across from him. “Who’s the chit? Find a proper match, did you?”

A proper match. It was the perfect way to describe the way Colin felt about Beatrice. Especially when he thought about that last kiss. The first one had been innocent, sweet and passionate all at once. But the kiss from yesterday? He swallowed, adjusting his position just thinking about it. That was not the kind of kiss one shared with just anyone. “I did. And I’m thinking of asking for her hand.”

“Good on you, my friend. Who is the lucky heiress?”

Colin clenched his jaw, rebelling at the descriptive. “It’s not about her bloody money, John. She is the finest person I have met in society—male or female.”

Concern clouded his cousin’s eyes, and he leaned forward. “Devil take it, Colin—you didn’t go and fall for a penniless woman, did you? Think of your family, man, not to mention that excessively mortgaged estate.”

“No, no—she has an exceptional dowry. But Lady Beatrice is so much more than that.”

Relief washed over John’s face, and he sat back and chuckled. “Yes, I’ll just bet she is. God, you had me going there for a moment. An exceptional dowry indeed.”

Colin was fairly sure putting a fist through his cousin’s face wouldn’t go over well. The strength of his aversion to John’s reaction was shocking. If he reacted this way to his own family, how would things go when others whispered behind their hands about the nobody baronet pursuing the powerful marquis’s daughter?

“I’ll not say it again, John. Her bloody dowry has nothing to do with the way I feel about her. She is a remarkable, talented woman.”

“Sure, sure, if you say so. But if you’ll remember, I warned you against the fair Lady Beatrice. How do you plan to handle the financial discussion with her family, should it come to that?”

Even though he’d already thought of that particular conversation, Colin’s gut clenched. There were two ways to go about it. One, he could tell the whole truth and be instantly turned away. Two, he could disclose how much the estate made per annum, discuss his prospects as a barrister, and know that once the business loan was paid with the funds from the dowry, it would no longer be pertinent to the discussion, particularly with the generous amount he planned to keep in trust for Lady Beatrice.

In other words: He could lie.

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, working at the tension that seemed to follow him whenever he thought of his father’s exceedingly unwise business decision. “Obviously I must disclose the details. I don’t see that there is any way around it.”

Approval lightened his cousin’s expression, and he gave a crisp military nod. “Good plan. The Moores are a powerful family, despite their peculiarities. I wouldn’t want to cross them.”

“Agreed.” Even if they weren’t one of the oldest and most respected families in the ton, he didn’t wish to disrespect the family of the woman he hoped to spend the rest of his life with.

“When do you plan to move forward?”

Nerves flickered through him before settling in the pit of his stomach. Moving forward meant asking for her hand, and that would mean a massive change in the rest of his life. “After the exhibit opening, I think. From what I understand, most of her family will be there, so it should be an excellent opportunity to see how they interact with the ton en masse. I’d like to at least know what to expect of the earl and his wife.”

“Sounds like a reasonable approach. Plus, Mother and I will both be there to support you, should you need it.”

“Rallying the troops behind me, are we?”

John nodded, not a hint of irony in his expression. “One never knows when one will have need of reinforcements.”

“Care to take a walk with me?”

Jane smiled from the doorway of Beatrice’s studio. Her porcelain skin was a bit paler than usual, but she still looked utterly lovely in her lavender-trimmed morning gown. Thank goodness Bea had positioned her canvas so that it faced away from the doorway, hiding Colin’s emerging visage from anyone who happened to drop by.

“I suppose a break could be nice. Are you feeling better today?”

“Much better than this morning, to be sure, but these last few days have been dreadful. I honestly can’t imagine how Mama worked in the bakery when she was expecting. As much as I wish I could bake, the thought of stepping in the kitchen with all those smells . . .” She shook her head, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “But the sun is shining, and the air is crisp, and I am thinking that a walk might be just the thing.”

Beatrice hid a grin as she stood and removed her apron. Jane never was one to sit still for very long. “Who’s doing the baking for the orphanage, then? Surely it’s not just Richard.”

Jane’s green eyes widened with delight. “It is! I’m so proud of him for it, too.”

“Well, I haven’t seen any bandages or splints, so clearly he is much improved since our lessons. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked me to join him. I may have had only two baking lessons, but I remember being the better student, of the two of us.” She winked as she led them into the corridor and shut the door.

“He’s under strict orders from your parents not to involve you in anything remotely scandalous until after you are safely married.” She rolled her eyes, leaning down to whisper, “Imagine what people would think if they knew you’d whisked your own eggs.”

Beatrice almost snorted. If only they knew exactly how scandalous she had been. Getting her hands dirty in the kitchen was the least of her worries. “Ah, that explains it. All right. Just give me a moment to change. I’ll meet you in the entry hall in ten minutes.”

Ducking into her chambers, Beatrice rang for her maid before hurrying to the little escritoire tucked beneath the window. Opening the wide, shallow drawer, she unearthed the drawing she had spent the last few nights working on. She smoothed it out, inspecting the carefully rendered cartoon. This time there was no mistaking Godfrey. She had originally intended to create a completely different fortune hunter character, but after the horrid stunt at the musicale, he deserved to be called out and chastised for the scoundrel he was.

The swift clip of approaching footsteps echoed down the corridor—her maid was coming. Placing the letter atop the drawing, she rolled them together and tied them in a slender ribbon. A walk to Monsieur Allard’s would be the perfect opportunity to hand them over. For all anyone had to know, it was simply a list of supplies she wished to have ordered.

Five minutes later, Jane and Beatrice stepped out into the sunshine and headed west. The air held a definite chill, but with the sunshine warming their faces, it was rather refreshing.

Jane sighed, deep and blissful. “Oh my, but it feels like heaven out here. I don’t think I realized quite how cooped up I was feeling.”

“I know what you mean. I will be quite relieved when Mama gives up and lets us return to Aylesbury. I know you and Richard love the city, but I must confess that it is not nearly so captivating as I once imagined.”

“Oh, I am very much looking forward to spending Christmas at Hertford Hall. The city is home, but I’ve heard so much about it from all of you, especially Evie. But I wonder,” she said, linking her arm through Beatrice’s as they crossed the street, “if you are very certain there isn’t something you will miss.”

“Something? If you mean your scrumptious baked goods, yes, I shall be lost without them. Of course, until you feel better, I must do without anyhow.”

Jane cut her gaze to Bea, a single delicate brow lifted. “Perhaps I should have said someone. And no, I am not referring to Richard or myself.”

Colin’s face immediately popped into her head, and Beatrice bit her lip against the silly smile that threatened. She looked down at the pavement, watching the swish of her skirts as she walked. “There is, actually.”

“I knew it!” Jane gave her arm a little squeeze, grinning broadly. “A woman in love can always spot another.”

“Love?” Beatrice squeaked. Was that the emotion that fairly exploded in her chest anytime she thought of him? Was love what made her heart race when she heard that incredible accent of his, or set eyes on the painting she was working on? She suddenly desperately wished Evie weren’t so far away.

She hadn’t even realized she stopped walking until Jane tugged her to the side, pulling her out of the way of pedestrians behind them. She blinked up at her sister-in-law, trying to get a handle on the rioting emotions that seemed to rob her of the ability to think rationally. “I don’t know if it’s love, per se. I mean, I do quite, quite like him. . . .” She trailed off, putting a gloved hand to her middle. Even as she said the words, she knew that they weren’t nearly strong enough to describe the feelings she had whenever he was near.

“Well, I certainly didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that you’ve been so different these past few weeks. And to hear you talk about Sir Colin, truly, you positively glow.”

Lovely. Now she was some sort of incandescent lovesick fool.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Bea. For heaven’s sake, love is a good thing. Especially when a couple is as compatible as Sir Colin and you. It makes things so much easier.”

Beatrice shook her head and started forward, pulling Jane along with her. “Can we please not talk about this? Colin and I haven’t even discussed courting.”

“‘Colin,’ is it?” Jane’s knowing look was altogether too much. “And I’ll grant your wish, provided you answer one last question.”

Cutting a suspicious look at her sister-in-law, Beatrice said, “What question is that?”

“Has he kissed you?”

“Jane!”

Two men walking past started at Beatrice’s exclamation, but Jane simply smiled impassively at them until they went on their way. As if this moment could be any more mortifying.

“I’m fairly certain that is a yes, but I won’t press.”

They walked in silence for a few more blocks. The residential homes gave way to businesses, and the traffic around them increased. The wagon carts, horse hooves, and shouting costermongers did little to drown out the noise in her own head as she went over and over the word “love” in her mind. And the wonderful, wicked, incredible kisses she had shared with Colin.

“Yes.”

Jane looked at her, confusion knitting her brow. “I beg your pardon?”

“Yes, I kissed him.”

Of the two of them, Jane was the one who blushed at this. “I’m quite certain it is my duty as an old married woman to scold you. However,” she said, her almond-shaped eyes crinkling at the corners, “clearly I am not one to talk. Was it wonderful?”

A wave of butterflies took flight in her belly as Beatrice lingered on the memory of their kisses. “There is not a superlative in the English language that could properly describe its wonderfulness.”

“That, my dear, is quite possibly the sweetest thing I have ever heard . . . and exactly how it should be.”

They reached Monsieur Allard’s shop, and Beatrice led the way inside. It was ironic, really. Here she was writing a column about how to avoid bad men, and the only thing she could think of was one very good man.

Even as she smiled and greeted the Frenchman, her mind was already moving ahead. With the gallery opening at hand, and the length of Colin’s stay in London unknown, perhaps it was time for them to consider what the future might hold for them.