“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.”

“Something? If you mean your scrumptious baked goods, yes, I shall be lost without them. Of course, until you feel better, I must do without anyhow.”

Jane cut her gaze to Bea, a single delicate brow lifted. “Perhaps I should have said someone. And no, I am not referring to Richard or myself.”

Colin’s face immediately popped into her head, and Beatrice bit her lip against the silly smile that threatened. She looked down at the pavement, watching the swish of her skirts as she walked. “There is, actually.”

“I knew it!” Jane gave her arm a little squeeze, grinning broadly. “A woman in love can always spot another.”

“Love?” Beatrice squeaked. Was that the emotion that fairly exploded in her chest anytime she thought of him? Was love what made her heart race when she heard that incredible accent of his, or set eyes on the painting she was working on? She suddenly desperately wished Evie weren’t so far away.

She hadn’t even realized she stopped walking until Jane tugged her to the side, pulling her out of the way of pedestrians behind them. She blinked up at her sister-in-law, trying to get a handle on the rioting emotions that seemed to rob her of the ability to think rationally. “I don’t know if it’s love, per se. I mean, I do quite, quite like him. . . .” She trailed off, putting a gloved hand to her middle. Even as she said the words, she knew that they weren’t nearly strong enough to describe the feelings she had whenever he was near.

“Well, I certainly didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that you’ve been so different these past few weeks. And to hear you talk about Sir Colin, truly, you positively glow.”

Lovely. Now she was some sort of incandescent lovesick fool.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Bea. For heaven’s sake, love is a good thing. Especially when a couple is as compatible as Sir Colin and you. It makes things so much easier.”

Beatrice shook her head and started forward, pulling Jane along with her. “Can we please not talk about this? Colin and I haven’t even discussed courting.”

“‘Colin,’ is it?” Jane’s knowing look was altogether too much. “And I’ll grant your wish, provided you answer one last question.”

Cutting a suspicious look at her sister-in-law, Beatrice said, “What question is that?”

“Has he kissed you?”

“Jane!”

Two men walking past started at Beatrice’s exclamation, but Jane simply smiled impassively at them until they went on their way. As if this moment could be any more mortifying.

“I’m fairly certain that is a yes, but I won’t press.”

They walked in silence for a few more blocks. The residential homes gave way to businesses, and the traffic around them increased. The wagon carts, horse hooves, and shouting costermongers did little to drown out the noise in her own head as she went over and over the word “love” in her mind. And the wonderful, wicked, incredible kisses she had shared with Colin.

“Yes.”

Jane looked at her, confusion knitting her brow. “I beg your pardon?”

“Yes, I kissed him.”

Of the two of them, Jane was the one who blushed at this. “I’m quite certain it is my duty as an old married woman to scold you. However,” she said, her almond-shaped eyes crinkling at the corners, “clearly I am not one to talk. Was it wonderful?”

A wave of butterflies took flight in her belly as Beatrice lingered on the memory of their kisses. “There is not a superlative in the English language that could properly describe its wonderfulness.”

“That, my dear, is quite possibly the sweetest thing I have ever heard . . . and exactly how it should be.”

They reached Monsieur Allard’s shop, and Beatrice led the way inside. It was ironic, really. Here she was writing a column about how to avoid bad men, and the only thing she could think of was one very good man.

Even as she smiled and greeted the Frenchman, her mind was already moving ahead. With the gallery opening at hand, and the length of Colin’s stay in London unknown, perhaps it was time for them to consider what the future might hold for them.

Chapter Eighteen

There was no doubt the exhibit was already a resounding success, even though not even an hour had passed since the gallery doors had opened. A harpist set the mood, her elegant Grecian-style gown the perfect complement to the white-and-gold decor, while her surprisingly dark and moody tones fit the look of the portraits quite exactly. Where normally the noise of so many people might have been deafening, the attendees spoke in quiet, reverent tones as they wandered from portrait to portrait.

So far, everything was perfect.

Which did not help Colin’s nerves in the least. Every time someone walked through the door, he darted a glance that way, willing the new arrival to be Beatrice. Unfortunately, his vigilance had earned him little but a few displeased looks from the people he was talking to at the time.

“I think his later works really embody his true talent, don’t you agree? Just look at the level of detail on Lady Danbridge’s gown. I feel as though I could reach out and touch it.”

Colin nodded politely to the purple-gowned woman whose name he couldn’t remember. She had tight ringlets covering her head, distracting him every time she moved.

“And the sunbeams”—bounce, swing, bounce—“aren’t they simply divine?”

This time she turned to him for confirmation of her opinion, and Colin dipped his head. “I agree completely.”

In that moment, the back of his neck tingled as if someone blew across the sensitive hairs there. He turned, his eyes going straight to the doorway, where a group of newcomers ventured into the room, glancing about. His heart kicked in his chest as his gaze collided with Beatrice’s. “Will you excuse me?” he murmured, not waiting for the matron’s response.

He strode across the room, pulled toward Beatrice like a fish on a line. Her mouth was turned up in the suggestion of a smile, her cheeks sweetly rounded, while her sapphire gaze, with its subtle hint of emerald, sparkled in silent greeting.

She was absolute perfection.

He wanted to do nothing but stare at her all night, his sweet stór in her bejeweled gown, but of course that was impossible. As he drew close enough to address the family at large, he smiled. “Good evening and welcome. I’m so glad that you all could join us tonight.”