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.
T
here was no doubt the exhibit was already a resounding success, even though not even an hour had passed since the gallery doors had opened. A harpist set the mood, her elegant Grecian-style gown the perfect complement to the white-and-gold decor, while her surprisingly dark and moody tones fit the look of the portraits quite exactly. Where normally the noise of so many people might have been deafening, the attendees spoke in quiet, reverent tones as they wandered from portrait to portrait.
So far, everything was perfect.
Which did not help Colin’s nerves in the least. Every time someone walked through the door, he darted a glance that way, willing the new arrival to be Beatrice. Unfortunately, his vigilance had earned him little but a few displeased looks from the people he was talking to at the time.
“I think his later works really embody his true talent, don’t you agree? Just look at the level of detail on Lady Danbridge’s gown. I feel as though I could reach out and touch it.”
Colin nodded politely to the purple-gowned woman whose name he couldn’t remember. She had tight ringlets covering her head, distracting him every time she moved.
“And the sunbeams”
—bounce, swing, bounce—
“aren’t they simply divine?”
This time she turned to him for confirmation of her opinion, and Colin dipped his head. “I agree completely.”
In that moment, the back of his neck tingled as if someone blew across the sensitive hairs there. He turned, his eyes going straight to the doorway, where a group of newcomers ventured into the room, glancing about. His heart kicked in his chest as his gaze collided with Beatrice’s. “Will you excuse me?” he murmured, not waiting for the matron’s response.
He strode across the room, pulled toward Beatrice like a fish on a line. Her mouth was turned up in the suggestion of a smile, her cheeks sweetly rounded, while her sapphire gaze, with its subtle hint of emerald, sparkled in silent greeting.
She was absolute perfection.
He wanted to do nothing but stare at her all night, his sweet
stór
in her bejeweled gown, but of course that was impossible. As he drew close enough to address the family at large, he smiled. “Good evening and welcome. I’m so glad that you all could join us tonight.”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Lady Granville said, her regal features warm and pleasant. “I believe you have met my son, the Earl of Raleigh, but allow me to introduce to you his wife, Lady Raleigh.”
The dark-haired beauty on Raleigh’s arm wasn’t at all what he had expected, given the way his aunt had described the former baker. Her flawless skin and bright emerald eyes were lovely, but it was the countess’s grin that struck Colin most. It seemed completely pure, in no way contrived, and he found himself liking her immediately. “My lady, it is a pleasure.”
“I have heard so much about you, Sir Colin. It’s lovely to finally make your acquaintance.”
His gaze flickered to Beatrice. Was she the one telling Lady Raleigh about him? He rather hoped so. He liked to think that she was as captivated with him as he was with her. Diplomatically, he turned his attention to the twins, who were looking about as if they’d never been to a gallery. Or perhaps it was that they had never been to a gathering like this. They had yet to debut, after all. “Lady Carolyn, Lady Jocelyn, it is a delight to see you again. I do hope you will all enjoy the exhibit. And do let me know if you would like the background on any of the portraits. I am happy to divulge all of the artist’s secrets, as Lady Beatrice might have told you.”
“No, actually,” replied Lady Jocelyn, raising a pale brow in Beatrice’s direction. “She’s shared precious little about her guided tour, or any of her excursions for that matter.”
Lady Granville shook her head, already looking exasperated before she’d even been there five minutes. “Now, now, a lady can’t be expected to divulge all of her secrets. And she also must refrain from monopolizing her host’s time. Thank you for the greeting, Sir Colin. We are most anxious to view the featured works.”
With the efficiency of a captain directing his troops, the marchioness herded the family toward the first portrait, pausing only long enough to accept a glass of negus from a passing footman.
Lady Beatrice remained by his side, watching as her family merged with the crowd. “You survived,” she said, a bit of mischief tugging up the corners of her mouth.
He lifted his wineglass to his lips and took an unconcerned sip. “Not so very terrifying, I assure you.”
“You say that now, but you are forgetting, I think, that you have yet to meet my father, sister, niece, and brother-in-law. When we are all in one room, then we’ll see how brave you are.”
“Is that an invitation?”
She pressed her lips together and lifted a slender shoulder, drawing his attention to her very kissable collarbone. “Perhaps. If you decide you are a glutton for punishment, that is.”
“Any time spent in your presence could hardly be punishment.”
“Oh well, yes, there is that.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement.
He knew his duty was to be greeting guests and offering unique insight into the artist, but the thought of pulling himself away from her was distasteful in the extreme. Turned as he was with a view toward the entrance, he noted the arrival of a distinguished-looking gentleman in a rather resplendent naval uniform. Stepping into the gallery, the man surveyed the area as if inspecting his fleet. He was poised as if standing on deck, his feet firmly planted and his shoulders squared as if for optimum balance. Every dark hair was in place, and his boots were so well shined as to reflect the light from the chandelier above.
Colin started to point him out to ask Beatrice if she knew who the man was, but his dark eyes landed on them in that moment and his stern expression vanished. Actually, Colin realized, his gaze wasn’t on them so much as it was on
her
. Colin straightened, biting the inside of his lip against a scowl as the man smiled and extended a hand as he approached.
“Lady Beatrice, how lovely to see you.”
Her delight was palpable as she smiled warmly—perhaps a bit too warmly, if you asked Colin—and allowed him to kiss her gloved hand. “Captain Curry, what a wonderful surprise. I thought you were still sailing the seven seas, dutifully frightening all of England’s enemies away from her shores.”
“Yes, well, even the saltiest of sea captains craves a bit of dry land now and again. What a pleasure to find you here. I should have known you’d never be able to resist this particular exhibit.”
They chuckled as if sharing a private joke. “I am devastated to be so predictable. I shall try harder to maintain an air of mystery in the future.”
“Don’t you dare—you are perfect just the way you are.”
Colin’s gaze bounced back and forth between them, his brows inching closer and closer together. Who was this Captain Curry, and why did he seem to be on such intimate terms with Beatrice? More important, what was it about the man that inspired the altogether foreign sensation of jealousy?
“Oh my, where are my manners?” she said, turning to include Colin in the conversation. He straightened at once, correcting his expression to its normal neutrality as she made the introductions. “Captain Edward Curry, have you met the son of the legend himself, Sir Colin Tate?”
“I don’t believe I have,” the older man said, sizing Colin up in one glance. “Your father was a phenomenal talent. Please accept my condolences for your loss.”
Colin nodded his acceptance of the sentiment. “Thank you, sir. Tell me, how is it you and Lady Beatrice are acquainted with each other?”
“Actually,” Beatrice said, smiling once again at the officer, “Captain Curry owns quite a collection of naval paintings. He is generous enough to open his home to visitors, and I just happened to visit when he was in residence this spring.”
“Yes, and imagine my surprise to learn that this young lady seemed to know more about the artists than I did. We had quite a stimulating conversation that afternoon.”
“And imagine
my
surprise to discover that the Pirate Gentleman was much more gentleman than pirate,” she teased, shaking her head as if disappointed. “I had high hopes for a parrot and a peg leg.”
“Shocking, I’m sure,” Colin muttered. The thought of them sharing such “stimulating” conversations did not sit well with him. He wanted to be the one doing the stimulating when it came to Beatrice. “Well, as an art collector, you must be eager to take a look around, Captain.”
“Oh, indeed you must be,” Beatrice exclaimed. “It is a thousand times better than I had even imagined. And I haven’t even seen the royal portrait yet.”
The captain extended his arm, his eyebrows raised in question. “Shall we go see it together? I’m sure Sir Colin must have all sorts of duties that we are keeping him from.”
Beatrice blinked and looked around them, as if just noticing the newcomers trickling in. “Oh, goodness, I wasn’t thinking. Of course we’ll allow you to get back to your duties.”
“No, it’s fine, really—”
“Don’t be silly. I’ve taken up far too much of your time already.” She accepted Curry’s arm before turning back to Colin. “Perhaps later, when things have settled down a bit, we could discuss the newest painting.”
The way she emphasized “newest” was subtle, but Colin knew she must be referring to the portrait she was painting of him. Good—he wanted her thinking of the portrait and the kisses they had shared during the sittings. And at that exact moment in time, he didn’t care how juvenile such a thought might be.
He dipped his head in agreement and watched them as they headed toward the far end of the gallery, where the royal portrait was displayed. Well, that was a different experience. He couldn’t remember a single other time in his life when the uncomfortable rub of jealousy had been felt quite so keenly.
Squaring his shoulders, he turned to resume his duties, only to catch Lord Raleigh’s eye. The earl smiled and raised his glass, an odd toast of sorts, before turning his attention back to the Devonshire piece his wife was observing.
What was that about? Had he been watching the exchange? As private a person as Colin was, the thought rankled a bit. When he spoke with Beatrice later, he’d have to keep in mind how many curious gazes might be settled on them.
Gritting his teeth into smilelike proportions, he welcomed the older couple closest to him. He had so much he wanted to say to Beatrice, now more than ever, but first he had to get through the next few hours.
• • •
The evening was long, but one of the more pleasant Beatrice had ever spent. Surrounded by Sir Frederick’s paintings, speaking with many who actually cared about art, and best of all, being so close to Colin as to be able to sneak glances all night had combined to give her a near dizzy sort of pleasure. It wasn’t unlike the effect of a glass or two of champagne, making everything a little more exciting and enhancing the giddiness she felt every time her eyes landed on Colin’s dark form.
Captain Curry had departed not long after Prinny’s arrival, which had caused the usual hubbub. Mama had left more than an hour earlier with the twins and an exhausted Jane, but Richard volunteered to stay with her as long as she liked. She knew he was her favorite brother for a reason. Now that the royal party had moved on, only a smattering of guests remained. With Richard engaged in a lively conversation with one of his friends from his club, Beatrice finally made her way over to where Colin stood beside Lord Northup’s painting.
His smile was the perfect greeting, quiet and sincere. “At last, I find my treasure.”
She would never stop loving the way her stomach flipped when his Scottish-flavored words caressed her ears. “Did you ever lose it?”
“No, I doona think as I did. Though one can never trust a treasure around a pirate.”
She laughed lightly, shaking her head at him. “You’re forgetting that he’s more gentleman than pirate . . . and I’m your
stór
, no one else’s
.
”
She’d shocked him. Actually, she’d shocked both of them. Perhaps the negus was stronger than she realized. Not that she minded—it was rather exciting to say such naughty things in such a public place, even if her voice had been much too low for anyone but Colin to hear.
And Colin did hear it. There was no denying the sudden intake of breath or the widening of his pupils. “I doona think I’ve ever heard more pleasing words in my entire life,” he said, keeping his tone casual even as his gaze turned to an alluring smoky gray.
“Does that make you happy, then?”
“More than I could express in a roomful of people. Especially since it so thoroughly echoes the way I feel.”
Warmth bubbled up within her, spreading from her fingertips to her cheeks. Seeing him in his element tonight, surrounded by the works of his father, looked to with respect and listened to with interest, she couldn’t help but feel that no one else could possibly suit her better. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, with its cupid’s bow upper lip and perfectly proportioned lower. She’d studied those lips, drawn and painted them, and explored them with her own.
“Then perhaps you’d like to come by Granville House this week. I may be busy,” she said, licking her own lips with sudden nervousness for what she was about to say, “but my brother should be home. I’m quite certain he’d be happy to speak to you, if you were struck by such a desire.”
“Desire” was the perfect word to describe the almost molten quality of his gaze. He knew exactly what she was implying. A wave of anxiety almost made her lose her nerve, but something in that heated look made her stand her ground. He was silent for a moment, his chest rising and falling in shallow succession, before swallowing and taking a small step closer. “Beatrice, is that truly your wish?”
“Yes.” The single word was breathless, raw in a way that couldn’t be mistaken.
He reached forward and slid his hand beneath hers, bringing it to his lips without ever breaking eye contact. “Allow me to bid you good evening, my lady. I look forward to seeing you again
very
soon.”