She sighed, giving Diana a little squeeze. What was done was done—the only thing she could do now was be extra diligent for herself and those she loved.
And perhaps have Richard invite Mr. Rochester for a friendly match at Gentleman Jackson’s. For the first time since hearing Diana’s sniffle, Beatrice had to bite back a smile.
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.”