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.”