Flirting With Fortune

Chapter Five

“I’m fairly certain there is nothing in those tomes that will help you secure a wife.”

“Yes,” Colin said, craning his neck to smile at his aunt, “but there is plenty here to help me maintain one.”

Aunt Constance’s petite form floated through the library in a cloud of fine muslin and French perfume, distinctly out of place among the austere furniture and towering bookshelves. “Whatever do you mean, darling? The point of a well-dowered wife is to have one’s financial situation taken care of.”

He loved his aunt and was very grateful to her, but that was exactly the sort of attitude that drove him mad. “On the contrary. A well-dowered wife will save the estate—it is up to me to see to the financial security of the rest of my life. I chose my profession with exactly that in mind.”

He’d always known of his father’s ineptitude when it came to money. He pushed back against the memories from his childhood of hungry bellies and cold rooms. He’d lived it once—and no matter what, he wouldn’t let that be his future. More important, he wouldn’t let that be his siblings’ future.

Constance waved a bejeweled hand through the air. “Oh, pish—why toil the rest of your life away? I’m affording you exactly the opportunity to avoid all that.” She paused at his chair and tilted her head critically. “You’ve very fine features. Not at all as rugged as your Scottish father, thanks to your mother. And her tempering effect on your accent works in your favor as well.”

Colin allowed her the inspection, holding his tongue. She had liked his father well enough, but it was certainly in spite of his Scottish origins. She never could quite understand why her sister had fallen for the thick-brogued, penniless artist from Edinburgh. Yes, he had risen quite astonishingly and had certainly made a name for himself, but Constance wasn’t the least bit surprised to learn the state of things upon his death.

Oddly, as much as his father had wronged him, Colin hated for others to think poorly of him. Closing the law book, he leaned back in his chair and offered a long-suffering smile. “Was there something you wanted, dear Aunt?”

“A good lesson for you, Colin: A woman always wants something.” She winked and made her way to the opposite chair. “I’m merely here to impart some practical advice. Do strike while the iron is hot, my dear, and be sure to call on all of the lovely young prospects you met last night. We mustn’t give them a chance to forget you, especially with the fleeting advantage of novelty on your side.”

“Sound advice. You’ll be happy to know that I have planned exactly that. Time is of the essence, after all.”

“Indeed. Whom do you plan to visit?”

“Miss Briggs, Miss Graves, and Miss Paddington. Perhaps Miss Trenton, if there’s time.”

“Mmm, I suggest you make time. There’s enough blunt between the four of them to save a struggling country, let alone a single estate.” Aunt Constance straightened the glittering rings on her fingers before regarding him once more. “Of course, if you’d like to take your chances, there is always the Granville chit, with whom I saw you disappear outside last night.”

Colin nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “Lady Beatrice expressed a great love for my father’s work. She’s a bit above my reach, I should think.” It was the perfect opportunity to disclose to his aunt the fact that he had already decided to call on her. And yet he chose not to. Any good barrister knew that it was always best to hold one’s cards close to the chest.

“Yes, she is. But if she shows interest in you as opposed to the other way around, I wouldn’t rule it out entirely. With her father’s connection, you could make King’s Counsel in record time. Assuming, of course, you are dead set on carrying on with the business of becoming a barrister.”

“You know I am.”

“Well, then, as King’s Counsel, you’d have quite the respectable income.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. However, I doubt a marquis would wish to sully his grand lines with the likes of me. The ink is barely dry on the creation of the baronetcy, as far as the ton is concerned. I’m practically a cit to them.”

Aunt sat forward, a smug smile lifting the corners of her painted lips. “I very much doubt Granville would have a problem marrying his daughter off to a baronet after the wife his heir chose. They say she was a baker.” The last was said with the whispered delight of one imparting the most shocking of news.

“No!” he exclaimed in mock horror. “And they dinna burn her at the stake?”

She huffed, sitting up straight once more. “You have no idea of the scandal such a thing can produce.” She tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail against her lips, a tiny vee creasing the smooth skin of her brow. “And yet Raleigh has somehow managed to pull it off. Rather vexing, really. He has this devil-may-care attitude that simply leaches the venom from the vipers of the ton.”

“Quite a talent. Unfortunately, charming snakes has never been my forte. I’d best stick to those on the fringes of the beau monde. Those exactly like myself.”

“Don’t discount your charisma so easily. You’ve a bit of your father’s shameless charm about you. Yes, he was tremendously talented, but he’d have never taken London by storm without it, and it can serve you just as well.”

She was right about that. Father could have charmed the devil himself, if he put his mind to it. Too bad he hadn’t a lick of common sense to go along with it. Colin glanced at the tall clock situated between the two front-facing windows. Finally, it was after one and he could get on with the task of the day. He stood and set the heavy law book on the nearest table. “Well, I’d best get to storming then. Wish me luck, Aunt.”

A heady charge of anticipation rushed through him as he headed for the door. The only question was, should he call on Lady Beatrice first or last? He smiled.

Dessert must always come last.

“Jane—I never, ever thought to see you reading something like that.”

Beatrice laughed when her sister-in-law started, dropping the journal in question as her hand went to her heart. “Jam and splash, but you startled me. You do know that normal people actually make sound when they walk?”

“Of course,” Beatrice said, settling onto the opposite end of the sofa and reaching over to pull the paper into her own lap. “But I also know that the quieter the footsteps, the more information one can glean . . . like the fact that my very pragmatic sister-in-law has taken to reading the scandal sheets.”

Jane’s porcelain white skin tinged pink as she grinned sheepishly. “What? It’s the best way for me to learn more about the people of the ton. I’m quite behind, thank you very much.”

“Mmhmm. I rather think you’ve developed a taste for scandal these past few months.” Beatrice was teasing, of course. Jane was still finding her way as a new countess. Thankfully, she hadn’t given up on her former ways, for which Beatrice was exceedingly grateful—she had yet to taste biscuits more delicious than Jane’s.

“No, though it is nice to know that there is always another scandal greater than the last to turn gossips’ heads. Still, it’s so undignified for me to be reading such drivel. I should have known you’d ferret me out.”

“Everyone reads that drivel. And, yes, you should have known. Secrets are futile around me.”

Jane chuckled, putting a hand to her middle. “Of that, I’ll brook no argument. Behind Richard and my maid, you were the first to figure out our news.”

A huge grin came to Beatrice’s lips. “I kept it to myself though, didn’t I? I might be nosy, but I do have scruples.”

“For which I am grateful.” Jane’s lips relaxed into a soft, genuine smile as she leaned forward to retrieve her teacup from the sofa table. “Do tell me. What did your nosiness discover last night? I don’t know why I read that scandal sheet when I know you’ll always come home with the best gossip. I wish I had been feeling well enough to attend with you yesterday.”

Beatrice’s nosiness hadn’t so much discovered anything last night as get her discovered. Butterflies flitted through her stomach as she thought of Colin’s watchful eyes and mischievous grin when she emerged from the curtains. Would he come to see her today? She couldn’t have been plainer in her desires, but still, it was impossible to say whether he would follow through.

“Good heavens, what are you thinking about?” With her teacup frozen inches from her lips, Jane’s dark eyebrows lifted, a spark of interest lighting her hazel eyes.

Beatrice grinned, lifting her shoulders in feigned innocence. “Only about how lovely the evening was.”

Jane set her untouched tea back on its saucer. “I don’t believe you for one second, Beatrice Moore.”

“Well, if the scandal sheets won’t tell you, then I’m certainly not going to.”

Jane narrowed her eyes at her as if attempting to divine her secrets. “This involves a man. Yes, I’m sure of it.”

“Oh? And what leads you to that conclusion?”

“There are certain looks that can be caused only by a devilishly handsome man and that, my dear, was one of them.”

There was no stopping the grin at that. Oh, how right she was. Before Beatrice could formulate a response, the soft murmur of voices arose from the corridor, and her younger twin sisters, Jocelyn and Carolyn, came in to join them.

“There you are, Beatrice,” Jocelyn said, pausing to bid Jane good afternoon before taking a seat on the sofa across from them. “We thought you might be in your studio today, but I suppose the grayness of the day isn’t the most inspiring thing in the world.”

“It’s useless to me. I didn’t even feel like sketching in this gloominess.” That, and the fact that she was so full of hopeful excitement about seeing Colin again, she couldn’t have concentrated on a painting to save her life.

“Good—the better to concentrate on telling us all about last night, without Mama around to tighten your lips.”

“You’re just in time,” Jane said, sending Beatrice a surprisingly wicked grin. “Beatrice was just about to tell us about a very special gentleman she met last night.”

And to think, Beatrice would have said her sister-in-law was the reserved one of the group. She rounded her eyes at Jane in admonishment, but Jane only grinned back, utterly unabashed. Clearly, she knew that Beatrice would tell them about the night anyway. Half the fun of having sisters was being able to share with them.

“Very well.” She proceeded to regale them with tidbits and gossip, saving the best part—full descriptions and commentary on Colin—for last. Of course, the version she told them started with the ballroom introduction; some things were too delicious to share.

The only other part of the evening she kept to herself was the encounter with Diana. For her friend’s sake, she didn’t share her humiliation. It was too private a moment, one she wouldn’t betray.

But looking at her sweet, innocent sisters now as they drank in the stories from the ballroom with the excitement of those so close to finally being able to experience it for themselves—their debuts were only a handful of months away—it made her blood boil to think of some depraved fortune hunter duping one of them.

Yes, she would be there to help guide them, but what of all the young debutants whose families weren’t as diligent? Or those whose parents wanted nothing more than to marry them off to the first bidder and be done with the hassle? The thought weighed heavy in her heart.

“Do you think he’ll come?”

Jocelyn’s question abruptly changed the direction of Beatrice’s thoughts. She glanced to the clock. They were square in the middle of the afternoon, the acceptable time for a gentleman to come calling. Swallowing back the rush of nerves, she raised her shoulders. “I’ve no idea, Jocelyn, but we’ll know soon enough.”

Coming to her feet, Carolyn pulled aside the lacy drapes, revealing water-streaked windowpanes as she looked down on St. James’s Square. “I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t come. It’s raining buckets out there.”

“He’s Scottish, Carolyn—I doubt a little cold rain would get between him and his woman.”

“Jocelyn!” Beatrice tossed a pillow at her sister, who laughed and tossed it back. Even Jane chuckled at the audacious statement, though she had the decency to hide it behind her hand. “He is only half Scot, I am not his woman, and you are beyond outrageous.”

“Keeps things interesting,” she replied, completely unrepentant.

“I think that’s my cue for this old married lady to make her escape,” Jane said, shaking her head at the lot of them. “I do hope your gentleman comes to see you, Beatrice. And if he does, I expect a full report.”

As she left, Jocelyn picked up the discarded scandal sheet, flipping straight to the cartoons that always filled the back page. Beatrice did the same thing whenever she read one—there was something about the illustrations that begged for attention.

“Oh my,” Carolyn exclaimed, dropping the drape and jumping back from the window. “A carriage just arrived. It must be him!”

Jocelyn and Beatrice exchanged glances before jumping up from the sofa and hurrying to Carolyn’s side for a glimpse outside. Jocelyn started to lift the curtain, but Beatrice swatted at her hand. “No! Don’t be obvious—he’ll see you.”

“All right, all right. God forbid he look up into the pouring rain to our exact window and see the vague outline of a person within.”

Beatrice did not acknowledge her sister’s cheek. She was too busy trying to tamp down on the wave of nervousness that swept through her like a rolling fog, swift and thick. Yes, she was excited about the fact that Colin was Sir Frederick’s son, but it was so much more than that. Only the man himself could be responsible for the giddy unrest within her.

Taking a deep breath, she inched aside the edge of the curtain and peeked onto the street below. A shiny black carriage waited at the curb, its canopy pulled up against the rain. The matched pair of grays in front of it tossed their heads as a man emerged from within.

She squinted, but it was impossible to see his face from her vantage point. As a servant secured the horses, the man turned toward the house, one gloved hand holding the brim of his tall hat. Was it Colin? The build looked right, as did the— “Oh, blast.”

“What?” the twins asked in unison, diverting their attention to her.

“It’s not him.”

Carolyn’s face fell. “What? How can you be sure? All I can see is a wavy dark figure next to a wavy dark carriage. I’d be hard-pressed to tell you if the carriage is hooked to horses or elephants.”

Drat her dratted luck. “It’s in the way he moves.” She blew out an annoyed breath, turning away from the window and stalking back to the couch. Colin had a certain fluidity in the way he carried himself and a confidence that wasn’t conceited. Nothing showy, simply sure.

The man below was a peacock. Even in the rain, he sauntered toward the door, smugness wrapped around him like a cloak.

“I swear, Bea, you have gone daft.” Carolyn peeked outside once more before shaking her head. “There is no way to tell from two floors up who he is or isn’t.”

“Care to make a wager on that?” Beatrice’s voice was more sarcastic than she intended, but she suspected she knew exactly who was outside: Mr. Godfrey.

Jocelyn raised a pale brow, then turned her attention to her twin. “No, you wouldn’t, Caro. She’s got that look about her when she knows something the rest of us are too slow to catch on to.”

Why did he not simply give up the hunt? She didn’t want to be stuck with him now, not when Colin could come at any moment. Beatrice turned to her sisters suddenly, her eyes beseeching. “Oh please, please come with me when Mama calls me to the drawing room. I do not want to suffer that man alone, and I know Mama wouldn’t turn him away.” Why should she? Beatrice had never addressed her concerns about Godfrey with her mother. She had never thought it necessary—her cold shoulder with the man was practically frozen.

Carolyn regarded her with her wide, brilliant blue eyes. “Good heavens, don’t tell me you, of all people, are scared of a man. If that’s the case, then where’s the hope for the rest of us less stalwart females?”

“Oh, shush—being afraid of and being repelled by are two very different things. Now please, be sisterly and support me in my time of need.”

Jocelyn snorted. “Now look who’s being dramatic.”

“Think of it this way—you are always looking for all the gossip about the gentlemen of the ton. Well,” she said, putting her hands palm up, “here’s your chance.”

At least now she had their attention. The soft tap of approaching footsteps had her on her feet. “He’s the handsome third son of the Viscount Ashworth.” She leaned in closer and lowered her voice, desperate to pique their interest. “I believe he has a secret gambling problem, mounting debts, and he is on the hunt for a wife wealthy enough to set him up for life. Gossip doesn’t get any better than this.”

The footsteps paused at the same moment someone scratched on the door.

“Well?” she whispered, looking back and forth between them. Surely they wouldn’t abandon her. Neither one of them was giving her any tells, their faces both impressively blank as they exchanged looks. Honestly, communicating without any outward signs would be so useful.

Jocelyn grinned and craned her neck toward the door. “Enter!”

A maid popped her head in and curtsied briefly. “Begging your pardon, my ladies. Lady Beatrice, Lady Granville wishes for you to join her in the drawing room to greet Mr. Godfrey.”

“Thank you, Emily. I’ll be right down.”

The girl bobbed another quick curtsy and started to close the door.

“Emily,” Jocelyn called, halting the maid in her tracks, “please let them know to bring enough tea for five.” She waited until Emily withdrew to turn to Beatrice, hands on hips. “Before you thank me, just remember that you owe us.”

Even so, Beatrice blew out a relieved breath. Holding her hands out to her sisters, she smiled. “Whatever you say, my dears, just so long as you don’t leave my side.”