The butler reappeared, descending the stairs with measured steps. “If you’ll follow me, please.”
By the time they stepped onto the landing, the soft sound of feminine voices reached Colin’s ears. Her sisters, perhaps? The low tones of a male voice interjected, and Colin slowed, taking stock of the situation. Was it Beatrice’s brother? Her father? He didn’t know if he was quite ready to meet either of them.
The butler paused outside of the door and murmured, “Mr. William Godfrey has called upon the family as well.”
Colin’s jaw tightened. He really did not want to make small talk with one of Beatrice’s beaux, for God’s sake. Especially half-drowned and feeling like a damn fraud for having come in the first place. But with no other choice, he followed behind the butler as the man opened the door and announced, “Sir Colin Tate.”
Five pairs of eyes turned in his direction, but there was only one gaze he had any interest in. Framed on either side by a matching blond sister, Beatrice smiled at him from her place on the sofa. “Sir Colin, I’m so very glad you decided to join us today.”
She set down her teacup and came to her feet as he stepped toward the conversation area. She was exceedingly lovely in her simple green-and-white morning gown, her hair loosely arranged atop her head. Though the dim day offered little in the way of flattering lighting, she looked sweet and fresh and almost . . . relieved? The light must be playing tricks on him. “Lady Beatrice, it is a pleasure to see you once more. And Lady Granville, too, of course.”
Her mother smiled and nodded from her place in front of the tea service. “May I offer you some tea, Sir Colin?”
“Yes, thank you. Just the thing to take the chill from the day. No sugar or milk, please.”
Beatrice grinned as his gaze naturally fell back to her. “Allow me to introduce you to my sisters Lady Jocelyn”—the blond head on the right bobbed—“and Lady Carolyn”—the one on the left followed suit. “They will both be making their debuts in the spring.”
If he’d met them in the street, he never would have known that the twins were younger than Beatrice. Their direct gazes, surprisingly voluptuous figures, and broad smiles were no doubt going to keep Lady Granville on her toes next Season. “Lovely to meet you both.”
As strange as it was to think, the pair of them were almost too pretty. He much preferred Beatrice’s loveliness, where her sweet but imperfect features made her eminently more approachable. Her slender figure, her wide-set eyes and slightly pointed chin, the way she covered her mouth when she smiled—all of these were endearing to him. His father sought perfection; Colin preferred character.
She glanced toward the gentleman on the couch, keeping her lips together in something slightly more friendly than a grimace. “Have you met Mr. Godfrey?”
“Oh, we haven’t
There was no mistaking the thinly veiled disgust in the other man’s eyes, even as his voice was all that was pleasant and cordial. Colin dipped his head in a shallow greeting. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.”
Lady Granville smiled as she handed him a delicate gold-rimmed teacup filled with fragrantly steaming tea. “Mr. Godfrey is the son of the Viscount Ashworth and was just telling us about his latest trip to their country estate.”
“Yes, for the harvest. Father wishes for me to become more involved in the running of the estate, but I don’t see the need when we have a perfectly good estate manager.” His lips turned up in a sort of condescending amusement as he eyed Colin from the tips of his damp hair to the bottom of his rain-spotted boots. “Men such as yourself may not mind the elements, but I am relieved to be back in the bosom of the city.”
Ah, so Godfrey was an ass. Now that he had a better handle on the man, Colin took a calm sip of his tea before responding. “A bit of rain was no match for the pleasure of enjoying Lady Granville’s and her daughters’ company.”
Beatrice’s eyes flashed with gratification as she reseated herself between her sisters. He couldn’t say what made him think it, but he was almost positive her reaction was to his subtle put-down and not the pretty compliment to her and her family.
“Yes, of course,” Godfrey returned, his eyes narrowing the slightest amount. “I simply prefer to use civilized conveyance when the weather is so dreadfully inclement. Wouldn’t want to sully my hostess’s fine furniture with damp clothing, after all.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Mr. Godfrey.” Lady Granville offered them both a steely, determined smile. “We’re in England, after all. If our furniture couldn’t hold up to a few drops of rain, it’d be positively unpatriotic.”
Colin chuckled. “Well said, my lady. Before I left Scotland, I thought we had the corner on dreadful weather.”
“I’ve heard Scotland has the corner on all manner of dreadful things,” Godfrey remarked, leaning forward to set his empty teacup on the sofa table. “You must be so relieved to have an aunt here to take you in.”
Right—more of a bastard than an ass. Colin opened his mouth to retort, but Jocelyn cut him off.
“I always thought Scotland was romantic. If Romeo and Juliet would have had a Gretna Green to run off to, that play would have had a
Lady Granville nearly choked on her tea as Beatrice widened her eyes at her sister. Setting down her cup, Lady Granville offered a forced chuckle. “Jocelyn,
Godfrey gave the girl a little sideways look before smiling at Beatrice. “Yes, of course.”
Colin rather liked the girl—she reminded him of his own sister. “No mind paid. Although, if I had, I would be inclined to say that Lady Jocelyn has a point.”
He’d defended her sister.
Beatrice pressed her lips together, stifling the silly grin that threatened to emerge. He’d managed to handle Mr. Godfrey’s subtle rudeness quite well since the moment he arrived, and now he’d championed Jocelyn. She tossed a displeased look in Godfrey’s direction. The man should have taken his leave when Colin arrived. He’d already been here a quarter hour, so it wasn’t as though Colin’s visit was cutting anything short.
Sitting forward slightly, Beatrice turned the whole of her attention to the dark Scotsman—or should she say half Scotsman? “I’d love to hear more about Scotland, Sir Colin. None of us has ever been, but the paintings I’ve seen are quite majestic.”
His charcoal eyes warmed as he smiled at her, a lock of damp black hair falling across his forehead. “It’s rugged, and mountainous, and almost unbearable in its beauty. In the spring, when lilacs scent the air and heather blankets the fields, it is almost magical. My family’s estate is on the edge of a forest at the foot of a steep hill, and my gran swears she can hear the faerie wings on many a quiet night.”
Carolyn sighed. “It really does sound romantic. Not Gretna Green romantic, but inspiring-in-its-loveliness romantic.”
Beatrice saw her mother press her eyes closed for the space of a second. The twins would do well to purge the words “Gretna Green” from their vocabulary. “Yes, very inspiring, Sir Colin. Is your family still in Scotland?”
“Yes. My stepbrother and stepsister live there with our grandmother.”
“My, how they must miss you, especially so soon after your father’s passing,” Mr. Godfrey interjected, shaking his head. “I hope you won’t be gone from them long.”
The man’s jealousy—which was completely unfounded—was beginning to grate on Beatrice’s nerves. Did he think he was helping his case by acting the cad toward Colin? Yes, she realized there were some who looked down on him and his freshly created title, but that was rubbish, as far as she was concerned. If he treated Colin this way, how would he react to Jane and her background?
Colin, at least, seemed to take the statement in stride. “They are happy that I could be here for the memorial exhibit. It was too much of a journey for Gran, but I know she is comforted that I am here now.”
Mama tilted her head, sympathy clouding her eyes. “It really is lovely that you could be here for the exhibit. I know that many, especially our resident artist, Lady Beatrice, are eager to attend.”
Colin opened his mouth to respond, but Mr. Godfrey jumped in. “Perhaps you would allow me to escort you. I know how fond you are of the arts, Lady Beatrice.” He offered a calculated smile that probably softened most
