“S
ir Colin Tate, my lord.”
At the butler’s introduction, the earl, seated in an oversized brown leather chair behind the large dark desk, came to his feet, holding a hand out to Colin.
“Come in. Come in. Have a seat, my good man. May I offer you a fine scotch?” Raleigh seemed to be in exceptionally high spirits, not at all the imposing force Colin half expected. It was a bit jarring, actually, especially given the dark and imposing quality of the study. Warm browns and rich reds filled the space from floor to ceiling, relieved only by the uncovered windows at the back of the room.
The butler shut the door behind him, and taking a fortifying breath, Colin nodded. “Yes, thank you.” He settled into one of the chairs facing the massive desk, his spine rigid despite the earl’s greeting. He’d waited all of a day before coming. Amazing he had lasted even that long. The night of the gallery opening, he had been debating how best to move forward.
He could have never imagined Beatrice would be the one to do the job for him. Just like that, looking up into his eyes with her fiery, intimate gaze, suggesting that he speak to her brother. It was as if she had waved a wand, granting his greatest wish.
At the credenza, Raleigh filled two crystal tumblers, then handed one to Colin before taking a seat behind the desk. Taking a hearty swig, he leaned back. “I thought I might see you here this week.”
“Did you?”
“Absolutely. I have eyes, after all,” he said, his lips tipped up in an easy grin. “All right then. Acting on behalf of my absentee father, allow me to ask of you, Sir Colin, what is your business here today?”
Colin’s throat tightened and he cleared it, surprised at the force of his nerves. “I’m here today to request your permission, as well as your blessing, for me to ask for Lady Beatrice’s hand in marriage.”
“As I suspected,” Raleigh said with a nod. “Well, I’ve never done this sort of thing before, but I assume we must first hash through all the proper financial bits and pieces. No, actually, let’s do that second. First, let me say that I’m damn glad to hear of your interest. Especially since I believe we understand each other so well.”
An oddly jovial threat if Colin had ever heard one. He smiled as well as he could manage and nodded in acceptance of the earl’s statement. “Thank you, my lord. And, yes, it is always best to have full understanding of where another stands.”
“And though Beatrice will have the final say as to the acceptance of your offer for marriage, it is my opinion that the two of you will suit quite well. Now, then,” Raleigh said, setting his drink down and sitting up straight in the chair, assuming a more businesslike tone, “on with the monetary part of the arrangement. Beatrice’s dowry has been set at twenty-five thousand pounds. I am aware that you have an estate in Scotland and that you are training to become a barrister. What are your prospects?”
If ever there was a loaded question. Since it probably wasn’t a good idea to start the conversation by saying, “Utterly dreadful
,
” Colin started with the good news. “The estate is quite stable and brings in around two thousand a year. My brother and sister live there now with my grandmother. I have another year at the Inns of Court, but after that I have every expectation of pursuing a career as King’s Counsel.”
He went on, discussing all of his careful plans that he had spent years developing. He was concise, factual, and clearheaded, wanting to be very sure that Raleigh understood his ambition and character. Raleigh nodded every now and then, allowing him to say his piece.
And then came the part he had been dreading since he got there. Hell, he’d been dreading it since the moment he decided to come to London to find an heiress. Taking a deep, bracing breath, he dove in. “When I arrived in the city, it was with the knowledge that it was time for me to choose a bride. It never occurred to me that Lady Beatrice might be that bride. As far as I could tell, she was—is—above me in almost every way possible.”
The earl cracked a smile, but didn’t interrupt. Colin gathered he agreed with the sentiment. “But then I came to know her, and I discovered her to be the talented, confident, beautiful woman I had always suspected her to be. What I didn’t expect was for her to find something of interest in me. But I believe that she did, and beyond that, I feel that we suit perfectly, in a way I never imagined any woman might. When I am near her, I feel like a better person for it.”
His fingers wrapped around the curved wooden armrest of his chair as he willed himself to speak plainly about his situation. “Unfortunately, I did not have the luxury of choosing a wife based on compatibility and mutual affection alone. This is because my father chose to mortgage the estate against a business loan he procured in hopes of starting a successful engraving business. I was unaware of this decision until a month ago, when his creditors arrived at the estate to inform me that the loan will be due in January.”
For the first time, the earl’s affable facade slipped. “Cannot the business be sold to satisfy the debt?”
Heat crept up Colin’s chest, a combination of lingering anger and shame. “The business failed. The property has been sold, as well as the equipment, but much of the original investment has been lost.”
“How much is owed at this point?”
“Ten thousand pounds.”
Raleigh’s jaw clenched at the amount, and he sat back in his chair. Nothing remained of his earlier enthusiasm. “Why don’t you sell the estate? I know it’s not entailed, and it hasn’t even been in the family for long.”
“I would happily do just that, but unfortunately, my father agreed to some rather atrocious terms in his enthusiasm to get the business going. He actually signed the estate over to the creditors in trust, so that if the loan defaulted, the creditors get it all.”
“Bloody hell.”
If that didn’t sum up the situation, Colin didn’t know what did. “Yes, quite. Which brings me to my offer of marriage. Originally, I had planned to find a bride whose family would be happy to have a baronet. A business transaction of sorts: She would bring the funds necessary to release the estate, and I would be able to offer whatever good standing I have in society. What I didn’t plan on was losing my heart to a lady so thoroughly without need of my very minor title.”
Raleigh didn’t say a word, but clearly he agreed with him. With the worst of it out, Colin sat up a little straighter, looking the man in the eye. “So here is what I propose. It was never my intention to live off of anyone’s dowry. The estate’s income, combined with what I’ll earn when I am a barrister, is more than enough to have a comfortable life. Though I do need the ten thousand to pay off the debt, the rest of the dowry, in its entirety, shall be signed over to my wife in the marriage settlement. I also want you to know that, in addition to the forfeiture of the remaining dowry, it is my intention to gift her my father’s studios, in hopes that she will continue to create her beautiful artwork.”
Having said all that he’d intended, Colin closed his mouth, settled his hands in his lap, and waited. For a few moments, the only sounds in the room over the pounding of Colin’s heart were the ticking of the clock and the distant rumbling of carriage wheels on the street beyond the window. The earl watched him through narrowed eyes, either deciding what to do with him or wishing him to perdition.
Probably the latter.
At last, Raleigh blew out a harsh breath. “Christ.” He dragged a hand through his hair, a show of emotion that might have surprised Colin in another man but fit the unconventional earl. “Confound it all, man—why did you have to put me in such a bloody awful position?”
Colin tilted his head in confusion. Of the two of them, Colin was most definitely the one in the bad position. No man wanted to lay bare his family’s failures, opening himself up for judgment and rejection. “It was never my intention to cause you difficulty.”
The earl sighed with exasperation, crossing his arms over his chest and leveling his disconcertingly clear gaze on Colin. “My whole responsibility in this transaction is to look after my sister’s best interest. If she thought for one second you were marrying her for her money—”
“I swear to you I am not. You’ve heard my plan. No man would make such a proposal if they wished to marry for money alone.”
“
I
believe you.”
The statement should have been more reassuring than it was. Perhaps it was the subtle emphasis on the word “I,” implying that no one else would.
“The problem is, Beatrice has it in her mind that there is no greater devil than a fortune hunter. She’s been hurt in the past, as has one of her friends. I love my sister very much, but sometimes she can get a thought into her head and it can take an act of Parliament to get it out.”
“You doona think she would accept me, under the circumstances?”
“I
know
she wouldn’t accept you.”
Bloody hell. There was no plainer answer than that. His chest ached as if the words had been knives, piercing straight through to his heart. She could never love him. How was that possible, given the strength of the feelings he had for her? And he knew that she had strong feelings for him as well. Had she not practically asked him to ask for her hand? He sat for a moment, absorbing the pain, absorbing the blow to his hopes. Had he not known all along that this was a possible—hell, even likely—outcome?
The thing was, he had foreseen rejection from her brother, but not from her. He needed to regroup, to have some time to sort out what the hell to do next. It wasn’t something he could do with Raleigh’s keen gaze lying heavy on him. He started to stand, but the earl held up a hand.
“Stay where you are.”
In general, he didn’t allow himself to be commanded by another man, but something in Raleigh’s tone had him obeying.
“The reason why you have managed to put me in a rather shit position is because I know she won’t accept your suit, given the circumstances of your finances, but I also know how she feels about you.”
Colin’s face was completely impassive. He knew because he was concentrating every ounce of his willpower to accomplish just that. Everything inside him wanted to beg Raleigh to expound, to tell him exactly how Beatrice felt. His ribs ached with the force of emotion ricocheting beneath them. With a neutrality born from his years taking his meals at the Inn, he said, “Oh?”
“I have to say, I think you are a damn good match for her. I think you showed honor in the way you approached the subject of your finances and a clear determination to keep her best interests at heart. Most important, I’ve seen the two of you together.”
The sly look he gave Colin left him feeling completely exposed. What had he seen? Colin prided himself on his impassive facade—never revealing anything he didn’t intend to. Perhaps there was one emotion that simply couldn’t be hidden: love.
Raleigh shifted back in his chair, putting one hand to his chin and tapping the other on the gleaming surface of the desk. “I want my sister to be happy, Tate. I know what I’ve seen, but let me leave nothing to chance. Do you love her?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. None needed.
“Then I will offer you this: You may ask for her hand in marriage, but only under one condition.”
Caution and prudency went straight out the window as hope flared to life once more. “Name it.”
“Do not, under any circumstances, let her know about this whole mortgage business.”
Colin blinked. Surely he had misheard the earl. “You wish for me to lie to her?”
“No, of course not. If she should ever say to you, ‘Sir Colin, is your estate saddled with debt that can only be paid off with the use of my dowry?’ then obviously you should answer truthfully.”
So in other words, Raleigh wished for Colin to continue what he had been doing. Withholding the truth unless explicitly asked. The thought of it weighed heavy in his stomach, but what other choice did he have? The earl was offering him a way to be with the woman he loved and, by extension, save the estate for the family he loved.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“There is no need to decide anything now. I just wish for you to know this: I’ve never seen my sister quite so happy as when she is with you. The point is, I don’t want anyone to stand in the way of her happiness—including herself. I know how miserable a person can be when they decide to act with their head instead of their heart. It’s not a fate that I wish her to endure.
“From what I can tell, your financial distress is not of your making and can be fixed in short order. With any luck, Bea will be so pleased with the marriage settlement, she’ll never question what happens with the ten thousand.”
Coming to his feet, Colin offered the earl a curt nod. “Thank you for your time, your suggestion, and your faith in me. I can assure you it is not misguided.”
Raleigh tipped his head. “I’m counting on it.”
Colin turned and made his way to the door, feeling the earl’s gaze on his back the entire time. Just as his fingers touched the small brass knob, the earl said, “And, Sir Colin?”
He knew that had gone too well. Turning, he lifted a questioning brow.
“If I find that you are less than sincere in any of your intentions, I don’t care if I am just shy of the right of peer privilege. I
will
kill you.” The threat, delivered with a calm smile, was accompanied by dead-serious blue eyes.
“Duly noted.”
I
f she never saw the inside of a modiste shop again, it would be too soon.
Beatrice sighed in relief when the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the black lacquer door of Granville House.
“I still think there was time to visit one more shop,” Carolyn said, straightening her bonnet as they waited for the door to open.
Beatrice barely had the strength to roll her eyes. “If six shops weren’t enough to find what you were looking for, I don’t imagine another would make much difference. Besides, Mama would have our heads if we stayed one minute after five.”
“Which makes it all the more intriguing,” Jocelyn replied, flashing a devilish grin. “If five o’clock is when the gentlemen come out to play, then I’d say it’s the perfect time for one to lose track of ten or fifteen minutes in a shop with an exceptionally large front window, don’t you?”
The door swung open before Beatrice could properly scold her, so she settled for a brief heavenward glance, with a shake of her head thrown in for good measure. She let her sisters disembark first, waiting patiently while they gathered their reticules and skirts. Lord, but she could already tell they were going to be trouble next Season. Half the words spoken today had been dedicated to the gentlemen at the gallery opening last night. Actually, it was more like three-quarters.
But for the first time, Beatrice had had absolutely no interest in discussing the gentlemen of the
ton
. She’d seen the other men there and had even spoken with several, but there was nothing about them that interested her any longer.
Which, in a roundabout way, explained why the day had been so tedious. She had exactly one man on her mind, and the whole time she was out, she was wondering if he would actually speak to her brother. She pressed her hand against her chest to combat the fresh wave of nerves that assailed her at the mere thought of such a thing.
She had been beyond bold by suggesting he do so, but why shouldn’t she have a hand in her future? Isn’t that what she had been encouraging with her letters to the magazine? For women to stop looking to others and instead take matters into their own hands?
When both girls had exited the closed carriage, she scooted to the edge, taking care to gather her skirts so they didn’t trip her. With her eyes on the step, she grasped the gloved hand waiting to assist her. But instead of providing impassive support, the servant’s hand returned her grasp, and she knew at once it wasn’t a servant.
Colin!
Her eyes darted up, meeting his with the sort of flash one expected during a lightning storm. She braced for the thunder and felt it all through her body, through every last fiber of her being.
He was here. He was smiling unabashedly at her, and his hand was holding hers as though it were a lifeline. Had he spoken to her brother? He had to have—otherwise he could have never been so forward, here in the open in front of her home. Her heart pounded in her chest as she allowed him to guide her to solid ground. At least it was supposed to be solid. She could have been standing on the deck of a ship at sea for all the steadiness she felt.
With her sisters looking on and them standing practically in the middle of St. James’s Square, she knew she should say something. Wetting her lips, she smiled up at him, letting her fingers drag against his as she released his hold. “Good afternoon, Sir Colin.”
“Good afternoon.” His voice was deep and rich and as delicious as warm chocolate. “I was just leaving when your carriage pulled up. I hope you don’t mind that I wished to say hello.”
He was just leaving? Even in her mind, the question came out like a squeak. Then he
had
to have spoken with Richard. “Well, if you have a few moments to spare, perhaps you would join us for tea?”
Beside her, Carolyn cocked her head to the side. “But we just had tea at—”
“Carolyn,”
Beatrice interrupted, “why don’t you let them know that a tray will be needed in the drawing room?”
Her sister blinked, then—bless her—nodded and went to do her bidding. Beatrice turned to Jocelyn next, whose gaze seemed to miss nothing. “Would you mind fetching Mama and inquiring if she’d like to join us?”
“Certainly. Is there anything else you’ll be needing, my lady?”
Now was not the moment to be amused by her sister’s cheek. Bea widened her eyes in warning at the girl, who merely chuckled before retreating into the house. In the relative privacy of the front stoop, Beatrice paused long enough to smile up at Colin, wishing she could clasp hands with him again. “You came.”
He nodded, the sharp angles of his jaw softening as he looked down at her. “I did.”
She wanted to say more, but Finnington had the door open and waiting. They paused to shed their coats, then walked together across the entry hall and up the grand staircase. A footman, blast the man, followed up behind them, intent on one duty or another, so she couldn’t very well say more to Colin. When they reached the gold-and-cream drawing room, Beatrice drew up short.
“What is it?” Colin asked, standing just behind her, close enough for her to catch a hint of his perfect scent.
“No one’s here. How odd.”
He slid his hand down her arm, and she looked up to him in surprise. “Not so very odd, I think,” he said, his breath warming the sensitive skin of her neck. He stepped forward, lightly pulling her into the room behind him.
Butterflies roared to life in her stomach as he turned, facing her fully and joining hands with hers. The door clicked closed behind her, and she started in surprise. Had a servant pulled it shut? “The door . . .”
“Is exactly as it should be. There are only a few times in life when such a thing is perfectly acceptable, and this just happens to be one of them. Beatrice,” he said, then shook his head. “Oh, to hell with it.”
He tugged her full against him, in broad daylight in her own drawing room. He wasted no time in taking advantage of the position, leaning down to press his lips fully across hers in a quick but searing kiss. “There,” he said, his voice raspy as he pulled away. “I feel much better.”
She grinned, happiness covering her like a warm blanket. “That makes two of us. I’ve wanted to do that for days. Now, Sir Colin, was there something you wanted to say?”
“Marry me,
a stór
.”
All the passion in the world, wrapped up into four little words. No flowery prose, no odes to her beauty or talk of their compatibility—just a pure, simple, perfect entreaty.
One that needed only one word in response. “Yes.”
He closed his eyes, breathing a ragged breath before opening them once more. “Yes?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Without warning, he scooped her up in his arms and spun her around as though she weighed no more than a rag doll. She giggled in delight, pure joy radiating from her heart as if it were the sun itself. When he set her down again, his mouth crashed down on hers, swallowing her laughter, sharing it just as they would soon share everything.
The kiss was something different from before. It was possessive, and fierce, and fiery in a way she would like to think she could be but could never achieve without him. His hands came to either side of her face, cupping her jaw as if she were made of the most delicate of porcelains. Breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead against hers. “Can I say something without you thinking me a complete loon?”
She closed her eyes and nodded once. He could say anything if he would continue to hold her just like this.
“I’ve fallen in love with you, Beatrice Moore.”
Her heart skipped two full beats at the pronouncement, and she pulled away to look him in the eye. His gaze held a wealth of emotion, silvery and steely and still somehow soft.
“Thank goodness I’m not the only one,” she breathed.
• • •
Colin had never heard sweeter words in his whole life. She loved him! All the worries about the dowry, Raleigh’s condition, and his own misgivings seemed to melt away in an instant. Nothing in the world mattered except this: He loved Beatrice, and she loved him.
With a soft, low growl, his lips found hers again, more insistent than ever. He could feel her hammering pulse beneath his fingers, matching his own racing heartbeat. They were so close as to almost seem as one. Feeling reckless, he lifted her in his arms. She squeaked in surprise, but didn’t break the kiss, instead pressing against him that much more.
He closed the distance to the sofa in three sure steps, then lowered them both to the cushions until she was square in his lap. The weight of her against his chest and thighs was intoxicating, and he had the sudden image of her naked, her honey hair cascading down her shoulders and across his bare skin.
Everything about her—her smell, her taste, her size, and even her voice—seemed custom-made to drive him mad. He wrapped both his arms fully around her, pressing her more snugly against him. She gave a breathy little moan, and he smiled against her lips.
He could make her happy. He knew it without doubt. She could have her painting and do with her money whatever she desired. They could have as many children as would suit her, and they would always, always have this perfect passion between them. Raleigh was right—there was no reason to ruin what they had for something that wouldn’t even be an issue after the wedding. What mattered was that he loved her, and damned if she didn’t love him as well.
An odd tapping noise broke through his muddled senses, and he paused, his lips pressed still against hers as he listened. Footsteps! Beatrice must have realized it at the exact moment he did, because she sprang from his lap as if shot from a cannon.
She shook out her skirts and tugged at the wrinkles, desperately trying to put herself to rights. She looked charming as hell, all rumpled and red-lipped, and he couldn’t help but smile. “How do I look? And good heavens, why are you looking at me like that?”
The footsteps, inordinately loud and slow, had almost reached the door. “It’s all right, my love. They know that I was here to ask for your hand. I think a little kissing is to be expected.”
The emotions on her face scrolled from worry, to shock, to surprise, to impish delight. He came to his feet, straightening his jacket and planting a kiss on her nose. “Clearly they are giving us ample warning as to their presence.”
She grinned, shaking her head as the person outside the door jiggled the knob as if they had never worked such a contraption before. By the time the door swung open—slowly—they were standing side by side, her hand cradled in the crook of his arm.
Lady Granville looked between them, her whole face glowing with pleasure. “Well, I assume a question has been asked and answered?”
“What question?” Beatrice asked, tilting her head in wonderment.
The marchioness drew back in surprise, her gray eyes rounding. “Er, well, I—”
“I’m only teasing, Mama. Yes, a question has been asked and answered.”
“And?”
Beatrice squeezed his arm, pulling them more tightly together. “The answer was a most emphatic yes.”
Three feminine shouts of joy rang from the corridor, and the twins and Lady Raleigh poured into the room. There was laughter and hugs and plenty of congratulations to go around. The earl came to join in the celebrations, ringing for a celebratory round of sherry for the ladies and port for the two men.
Once everything had calmed a bit, Lady Granville settled onto the sofa and took a small sip of her drink. “Of course, we mustn’t make any announcements until your father and sister have been notified.”
“I can only imagine how surprised they will be,” Beatrice said, her eyes dancing with happiness.
“Not so very surprised, perhaps.” The marchioness grinned, her impish expression making her look years younger. “At least not your father.”
“Mama,” Beatrice exclaimed, her hand going to her mouth as she laughed. “What did you write him?”
“I may have mentioned that there was a certain young gentleman who had caught your interest . . . and that the gentleman in question appeared to reciprocate.”
A very encouraging sign, indeed. If her mother had taken enough note to write to Granville about him, she must have seen something between them. Just as Raleigh had. The lingering uneasiness about his deception eased that much more, and he settled back into the cushions of the cream-colored sofa, silently observing as the women discussed things like flowers and gowns.
“When would you like to have the wedding, Sir Colin?”
Immediately.
The sooner they were wed, the sooner he could dispatch with the circling creditors and be done with the worry of Beatrice asking about the use of the dowry. “Sooner rather than later, I would think. Perhaps in the New Year, after the celebrations of Christmas are behind us.”