Flirting With Fortune

have mercy on my depraved soul? Could you carry this encounter close to your breast, not to be revealed under threat of death, or worse—gossip?”

Good heavens, he was positively mesmerizing when he put his mind to it. The soft, lilting tones of his voice washed over her skin like warm silk, and she only just suppressed the shiver that flitted down her spine. Doing her best to sound lightly amused, she said, “Very well. You have my mercy. It was a pleasure not to meet you, sir. I do hope you enjoy the ball.”

With a reluctance that surprised her, she started to turn.

“Perhaps,” he said, drawing her attention to him once more, “you’d save a dance for me.”

She lifted her brow. “Ah, but that would require an introduction, would it not?” Even so, the offer was absurdly tempting. The idea of being pulled into his arms was almost enough to make her forget that dancing wasn’t her forte.

“An excellent point, to which I offer this solution: If by the end of the night, you wish to take me up on my offer, then I leave it to you to seek an introduction to me. Seeing how I now have assurance of your mercy, of course.”

Beatrice drew back in surprise. “Seek an introduction to you? I do hate to disabuse you of whatever opinion you have formed of me in these past few minutes, but I am not a desperate woman. I assure you, I will be seeking an introduction to no one.”

He didn’t look the least bit disappointed, or the slightest bit offended. Instead, the corners of his eyes crinkled in an almost imperceptible smile. Dipping his head in the approximation of a bow, he said, “Your prerogative. However, I do feel it prudent to clarify that I was giving you the option of not being introduced, should you wish to remain anonymous. I assure you it was not meant to disparage your prospects. I, of course, shall respect your decision.”

He certainly had a way with words. Was it the accent or his sentiment that muddled her brain and had her leaning the slightest bit forward? “Er, thank you.” Already she was feeling like a ninny for having reacted as she did.

“You’re welcome. And just so you know,” he said, slipping a gloved hand beneath hers and lifting her fingers to his lips for a feather-soft kiss that had her holding her breath all over again, “I’ll be keeping the last dance free.”

* * *

As distractions went, she was a damn fine one.

Colin watched the girl as she sashayed out of sight, her white skirts swishing around her like a windswept cloud. Whoever she was, she was a damn sight better than the debutants he had expected to encounter tonight.

He drew in a deep breath and was treated to her lingering scent. She might have gotten away with her hiding place if it weren’t for the hint of lilacs betraying her presence. It had stopped him cold, transporting him instantly back to his childhood home outside of Edinburgh. Even though he had left Scotland years ago, the smell of home was still arresting, particularly in the darkened gallery of his aunt’s London home.

Her presence was unexpected, but he was glad for it. He had been incredibly on edge, dreading the stroke of midnight, when he would be thrust into England’s high society once and for all. But at the moment she emerged from the drapes, his anxiety had ebbed and his spirits had lifted. The way she had looked at him . . . well, it was hard not to feel a boost of confidence. More important, she had given him something much more interesting to focus on—and damned enticing, at that. If a lady of the ton could sneak into private rooms and bury herself behind curtains, he had little to fear from high society.

Colin smiled. He didn’t know what he was expecting to find behind the drapes, but she certainly wasn’t it. If he were feeling fanciful—which he rarely was—he’d say she put him to mind of some sort of misplaced forest nymph. Exactly like the ones Gran had liked to go on about when he was young. Luminous blue eyes, hair of burnished moonbeams, and skin so pure as to almost look porcelain. He could easily imagine her at home in a midnight garden. And then there was that impertinent mouth. Colin shook his head, allowing a small chuckle at her cheek.

He sincerely hoped she would seek an introduction.

With the weight on his shoulders slightly lifted, he made his way toward the study where he was to meet his cousin. As he walked, he kept his gaze from the prized portraits lining the walls. They were well known to him— intimately so. Another time he might linger on them, but tonight he didn’t want to face the tangled threads of nostalgia and resentment that he knew would unfurl within him at the sight of them.

The study was warm and welcoming, with an assortment of crystal decanters lining the sideboard and reflecting the low fire in the grate. Colin started to reach for the scotch but decided on wine instead. It was probably best to save the imbibing for after the ball. God knew he’d need it by then. He poured himself a glass and took a hearty draft.

“So is it as bad as all that already?” asked his cousin John as he strode into the room, his crimson coattails fluttering behind him. The man was the epitome of military elegance tonight, all sharp angles and efficient movements. He paused to shut the door before joining Colin at the sideboard. “D’you mind pouring me a brandy?”

Nodding, Colin selected the appropriate bottle and splashed some of the amber liquid into a tumbler before handing it to John. “It depends on how you define ‘bad.’” He walked over to the desk and leaned upon the corner. “If by bad you mean that my father, God rest his soul, has damned me into a marriage of necessity from beyond the grave, then, yes, it is as bad as all that.”

John lowered his tall frame into one of the chairs facing the desk. “Yes, we know that,” he said, waving his drink in the air by way of dismissal. “It is, after all, the entire purpose of this ball. And I am happy to report that, as promised, there are debutants aplenty filling the place. Not bad, considering the time of year.”

It was quite a boon when John’s mother, Constance, who was Colin’s mother’s sister, remarried a wealthy earl several years after the death of her first husband. However, in the dozen years since, Colin and his family had never had reason to call on their connection.

It was a damned nuisance that he had to now.

“I never doubted it—especially with your mother in charge of things. I merely despise the fact that I must look at them as if they are some sort of commodities to be purchased.” Colin took another swig of the wine to wash away the distaste in his mouth, but it was no use.

“That, my good man, is where you need to adjust your frame of mind.”

“Oh really?” Colin asked, crossing his arms. “Care to expound?”

“They are not commodities for you to purchase. You are the commodity for them to purchase. It is why they have dowries in the first place.” John drained his glass and leaned forward to set it on the desk with a thump.

“I see,” Colin said, his tone clearly indicating that he did not.

“Why do you think they dress them up like dolls and parade them around in front of us? They are all looking for the best match. You are a baronet now. There are women aplenty out there whose families would be more than happy to purchase that title from you via their dowries. It is not such a big ordeal; it’s business.”

Colin set his own glass down on the desk and pushed to his feet. “It may be business to you, my friend, but I find I canna look at it that way. The whole idea of it makes me ill. The only thing that makes it even halfway palatable is the conviction that I’ll not lie about my situation if asked directly.”

John leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it is past time to get over your reservations and get on with the business of finding a wife. You have, what, four months before the bankers collect?”

Colin closed his eyes and nodded. Sixteen weeks before the world learned of his family’s downfall—a mere three months to convince some young lady with a fat dowry to marry him and save his family from ruin. How utterly cliche. He tried to stifle the rising resentment he felt for his father. He had loved—still loved—the man who had been a genius and yet still had managed to make such horrid business decisions.

“Do try to remember what is at stake here,” John said, coming to his feet. “Your brother, sister, and your grandmother are depending on you.” He picked up the empty glasses and returned them to the sideboard. Turning back to Colin, he said, “The sooner you find yourself a bride, the sooner you can return to normal life.” He headed toward the door, gesturing for Colin to join him. “Come. Let us weed through the merchandise, shall we?”