Probably the latter.

At last, Raleigh blew out a harsh breath. “Christ.” He dragged a hand through his hair, a show of emotion that might have surprised Colin in another man but fit the unconventional earl. “Confound it all, man—why did you have to put me in such a bloody awful position?”

Colin tilted his head in confusion. Of the two of them, Colin was most definitely the one in the bad position. No man wanted to lay bare his family’s failures, opening himself up for judgment and rejection. “It was never my intention to cause you difficulty.”

The earl sighed with exasperation, crossing his arms over his chest and leveling his disconcertingly clear gaze on Colin. “My whole responsibility in this transaction is to look after my sister’s best interest. If she thought for one second you were marrying her for her money—”

“I swear to you I am not. You’ve heard my plan. No man would make such a proposal if they wished to marry for money alone.”

“I believe you.”

The statement should have been more reassuring than it was. Perhaps it was the subtle emphasis on the word “I,” implying that no one else would.

“The problem is, Beatrice has it in her mind that there is no greater devil than a fortune hunter. She’s been hurt in the past, as has one of her friends. I love my sister very much, but sometimes she can get a thought into her head and it can take an act of Parliament to get it out.”

“You doona think she would accept me, under the circumstances?”

“I know she wouldn’t accept you.”

Bloody hell. There was no plainer answer than that. His chest ached as if the words had been knives, piercing straight through to his heart. She could never love him. How was that possible, given the strength of the feelings he had for her? And he knew that she had strong feelings for him as well. Had she not practically asked him to ask for her hand? He sat for a moment, absorbing the pain, absorbing the blow to his hopes. Had he not known all along that this was a possible—hell, even likely—outcome?

The thing was, he had foreseen rejection from her brother, but not from her. He needed to regroup, to have some time to sort out what the hell to do next. It wasn’t something he could do with Raleigh’s keen gaze lying heavy on him. He started to stand, but the earl held up a hand.

“Stay where you are.”

In general, he didn’t allow himself to be commanded by another man, but something in Raleigh’s tone had him obeying.

“The reason why you have managed to put me in a rather shit position is because I know she won’t accept your suit, given the circumstances of your finances, but I also know how she feels about you.”

Colin’s face was completely impassive. He knew because he was concentrating every ounce of his willpower to accomplish just that. Everything inside him wanted to beg Raleigh to expound, to tell him exactly how Beatrice felt. His ribs ached with the force of emotion ricocheting beneath them. With a neutrality born from his years taking his meals at the Inn, he said, “Oh?”

“I have to say, I think you are a damn good match for her. I think you showed honor in the way you approached the subject of your finances and a clear determination to keep her best interests at heart. Most important, I’ve seen the two of you together.”

The sly look he gave Colin left him feeling completely exposed. What had he seen? Colin prided himself on his impassive facade—never revealing anything he didn’t intend to. Perhaps there was one emotion that simply couldn’t be hidden: love.

Raleigh shifted back in his chair, putting one hand to his chin and tapping the other on the gleaming surface of the desk. “I want my sister to be happy, Tate. I know what I’ve seen, but let me leave nothing to chance. Do you love her?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. None needed.

“Then I will offer you this: You may ask for her hand in marriage, but only under one condition.”

Caution and prudency went straight out the window as hope flared to life once more. “Name it.”

“Do not, under any circumstances, let her know about this whole mortgage business.”

Colin blinked. Surely he had misheard the earl. “You wish for me to lie to her?”

“No, of course not. If she should ever say to you, ‘Sir Colin, is your estate saddled with debt that can only be paid off with the use of my dowry?’ then obviously you should answer truthfully.”

So in other words, Raleigh wished for Colin to continue what he had been doing. Withholding the truth unless explicitly asked. The thought of it weighed heavy in his stomach, but what other choice did he have? The earl was offering him a way to be with the woman he loved and, by extension, save the estate for the family he loved.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“There is no need to decide anything now. I just wish for you to know this: I’ve never seen my sister quite so happy as when she is with you. The point is, I don’t want anyone to stand in the way of her happiness—including herself. I know how miserable a person can be when they decide to act with their head instead of their heart. It’s not a fate that I wish her to endure.

“From what I can tell, your financial distress is not of your making and can be fixed in short order. With any luck, Bea will be so pleased with the marriage settlement, she’ll never question what happens with the ten thousand.”

Coming to his feet, Colin offered the earl a curt nod. “Thank you for your time, your suggestion, and your faith in me. I can assure you it is not misguided.”

Raleigh tipped his head. “I’m counting on it.”

Colin turned and made his way to the door, feeling the earl’s gaze on his back the entire time. Just as his fingers touched the small brass knob, the earl said, “And, Sir Colin?”

He knew that had gone too well. Turning, he lifted a questioning brow.

“If I find that you are less than sincere in any of your intentions, I don’t care if I am just shy of the right of peer privilege. I will kill you.” The threat, delivered with a calm smile, was accompanied by dead-serious blue eyes.

“Duly noted.”

Chapter Twenty

If she never saw the inside of a modiste shop again, it would be too soon.

Beatrice sighed in relief when the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the black lacquer door of Granville House.

“I still think there was time to visit one more shop,” Carolyn said, straightening her bonnet as they waited for the door to open.

Beatrice barely had the strength to roll her eyes. “If six shops weren’t enough to find what you were looking for, I don’t imagine another would make much difference. Besides, Mama would have our heads if we stayed one minute after five.”

“Which makes it all the more intriguing,” Jocelyn replied, flashing a devilish grin. “If five o’clock is when the gentlemen come out to play, then I’d say it’s the perfect time for one to lose track of ten or fifteen minutes in a shop with an exceptionally large front window, don’t you?”

The door swung open before Beatrice could properly scold her, so she settled for a brief heavenward glance, with a shake of her head thrown in for good measure. She let her sisters disembark first, waiting patiently while they gathered their reticules and skirts. Lord, but she could already tell they were going to be trouble next Season. Half the words spoken today had been dedicated to the gentlemen at the gallery opening last night. Actually, it was more like three-quarters.

But for the first time, Beatrice had had absolutely no interest in discussing the gentlemen of the ton. She’d seen the other men there and had even spoken with several, but there was nothing about them that interested her any longer.

Which, in a roundabout way, explained why the day had been so tedious. She had exactly one man on her mind, and the whole time she was out, she was wondering if he would actually speak to her brother. She pressed her hand against her chest to combat the fresh wave of nerves that assailed her at the mere thought of such a thing.

She had been beyond bold by suggesting he do so, but why shouldn’t she have a hand in her future? Isn’t that what she had been encouraging with her letters to the magazine? For women to stop looking to others and instead take matters into their own hands?

When both girls had exited the closed carriage, she scooted to the edge, taking care to gather her skirts so they didn’t trip her. With her eyes on the step, she grasped the gloved hand waiting to assist her. But instead of providing impassive support, the servant’s hand returned her grasp, and she knew at once it wasn’t a servant.

Colin!

Her eyes darted up, meeting his with the sort of flash one expected during a lightning storm. She braced for the thunder and felt it all through her body, through every last fiber of her being.

He was here. He was smiling unabashedly at her, and his hand was holding hers as though it were a lifeline. Had he spoken to her brother? He had to have—otherwise he could have never been so forward, here in the open in front of her home. Her heart pounded in her chest as she allowed him to guide her to solid ground. At least it was supposed to be solid. She could have been standing on the deck of a ship at sea for all the steadiness she felt.

With her sisters looking on and them standing practically in the middle of St. James’s Square, she knew she should say something. Wetting her lips, she smiled up at him, letting her fingers drag against his as she released his hold. “Good afternoon, Sir Colin.”