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.