Colin’s smile grew larger, even as it felt oddly foreign on his lips. “Listen to your brothers, Cor—the pair of us are far from ready to see you grown.”

“Oh, stop with you both. Gran was already married by the time she was my age.”

The house was so warm as to be almost stifling after hours in the thin-walled coach. As his siblings continued to tease, he shed his outerwear, reveling in the familiar smell of the old house. It might not have been in their family long, but it had always smelled like home. Wood, beeswax, and lemon oil, he thought, plus something else entirely unique to the place. After hanging up his hat and coat, he herded his siblings into the main drawing room, where Gran always spent her afternoons.

As expected, she sat bundled in her favorite knitted blanket on the antique sofa that had come with the house, darning what looked to be a pair of Rhys’s socks. It didn’t matter that they still had a maid of all work—she’d keep her hands busy no matter how many servants attended to her. It was one of the things that made Gran, Gran.

She looked up at their noisy entry. “As I live and breathe, my dear Colin.” She started to set aside her work, but he put up a hand.

“No, no, doona get up.” He went to greet her, kissing both of her soft, papery cheeks. She smelled of wool and lavender, just as she always had. “I’m happy to see you looking so well.”

“Havers, boy.” She chuckled, her voice strong despite the rasp of age. “If ye believe that, perhaps ye should be getting yerself to the doctor’s for a check of those lying eyes of yers.”

“The God’s honest truth, Gran. You look hale enough to tackle any bear that should wander into the drawing room.”

She pursed her lips in mock severity, even as her blue eyes twinkled with delight. “Such cheek, lad.” She paused, taking him in from head to boot. “And where is the lass whit keep ye in line?”

Leave it to Gran to get straight to the heart of things without even trying. “Back in London, far away from this miserable weather. Speaking of which, Cora, can you see about ordering a tea service? I’m chilled straight through to the marrow, I swear.”

She nodded and set off to do his bidding, and Colin settled onto his father’s favorite chair, stretching his hands to the fire burning behind the decorative iron screen. The room was huge, extending from the front of the house straight through to the back, with windows at both ends. Despite its large size, the massive stone fireplace and the low ceiling helped keep the space warm and cozy, making it the primary gathering spot in the house. Of course, Gran’s knitting helped keep it homey as well, with throws and blankets draped across the comfortable, decades-old furnishings.

His brother plopped down next to Gran, linking an arm with hers. “So, if your lady love is in London, what the devil are you doing here?”

“Rhys,” Colin admonished, widening his eyes at his brother. “Watch your language, please.”

Gran clucked her tongue, shaking her head. “Och, I’m not going ta wither at the sound of a wee curse word. Answer the question, if ye please.”

Direct as always. Colin rubbed a hand over his eyes, which felt dry and gritty after days on the road. He’d come here for their help, hadn’t he? The sooner they tackled the problem, the sooner they could come up with a solution. “Let’s wait for Cora, at least. I’d rather not have to hash it out twice.”

“I’m here, I’m here—doona delay on my account,” Cora said, hurrying through the doorway and settling on Gran’s other side. His siblings towered over their adopted grandmother, but Colin had no doubt Gran could still ring a peal over their heads, if she should be so moved.

Rhys leaned over, addressing his sister. “Colin was just about to tell us what has those purple moons beneath his eyes. I think it’s safe to assume it has something to do with the absent Lady Beatrice.”

Cora turned her huge amber eyes on him. “Doona tell me you managed to make a muck o’things before you even walked down the aisle?”

Making a muck of things was putting it mildly. “That’s a fairly accurate summary, actually.”

“Cripes, man,” Rhys said, his adolescent voice cracking a bit. “I knew there had to be a reason for you coming all the way here so close to the wedding, but I wouldn’a have thought it could be as bad as all that.”

Gran patted his arm in disapproval. “Stop wit yer doomsayin’ before ye even know tit from tat. On wit yer story, Colin. Best ta have it out all at once. Then we can chew it over and spit out the fat.”

The expression almost brought a smile to Colin’s lips. “It’s simple enough, really. I never told Beatrice of the state of the estate before the betrothal, and her brother asked me not to do so after. I knew she disliked fortune hunters, but I had no idea she despised them quite so thoroughly.”

The look of utter disgust on her face when she confronted him was something he wouldn’t soon forget—if he ever did. One would have thought he was the lowliest of criminals. The lingering shame still dug beneath his skin, a dull but present sliver in his conscience. Unclenching his tightened jaw, he said, “Which may have never been a problem, if she hadn’a found out on her own. Suffice it to say, she would have just as soon seen me at the bottom of the Thames than at the front of the church.”

As he spoke, the humor on his family’s faces faded, each seeming to grasp the gravity of the situation. Colin could practically see his brother’s mind go straight to what this news could mean for the whole family and the estate they had called home for years. “But the banns have been read, no? She canna back out now.”

“The announcement has been made, the banns have been read once, and of course, the contract was signed. But all of that means nothing if she is determined to avoid marriage.”

“What have ye come to us for?” Gran asked, her voice stern. “Yer bride’s up in high doh, and yer in a swither as to what to do with the lass?”

“Give me some credit, Gran,” Colin said, leaning back against the firm cushions of his chair. “It is more than just the jitters. She thinks I’ve targeted her like some sort of military marksman, coldly lying about my every thought and emotion. She is convinced I don’t love her and I used her only to get to her money.”

Cora cocked her head to the side. “Dinna you?”

Oh, for the love of God. “Of course not! Dinna you read a word I wrote about her? I never once thought of her as some sort of walking dowry. As a matter of fact, I thought she was far too high above me to even consider marrying for her money.”

“You doona have to bite her head off,” Rhys grumbled, glaring at Colin. “We all know you went to London to marry for money.”

“Yes—an heiress who might have a care to be wife to a baronet. A logical, careful marriage arrangement where both parties would be benefitted. I never intended to fall in love with the daughter of a marquis, for heaven’s sake.”

“Still, it was rather convenient,” Cora persisted.

Colin bit the inside of his lip to keep from snapping at her. If his own family didn’t believe him, how could he ever convince Beatrice? “Yes, very convenient to have nothing to offer one’s bride but a paltry title and a house mired in debt. If it weren’t for her near worshipful adoration of Father, I’d have nothing to give her at all.”

Gran made a tsking sound, shaking her head in admonishment. “A man’s love is hardly nothing, Colin. Entire countries can be made or lost for love.”

He had to work not to roll his eyes. He should be lucky to make it out of this conversation without being told a fable or two. “A man’s love is nothing if it is not believed, Gran. Beatrice doesn’t believe there is a way to prove that my intentions were honorable and honest. I convinced her to give me a month to do just that, but short of forfeiting the dowry altogether—which I canna do—I haven’a a clue how to accomplish that.”

Cora’s eyes were narrowed, as if trying to work a riddle. “She wants you to prove you wanted to marry her only for her?”

“Aye.”

“I think I like this lady.”

“Cora,” Rhys exclaimed, glaring at her over the top of Gran’s head. “You’re not exactly helping. She’s set us about a fool’s errand.”

“I ken, but any woman who’d stand up for love must have a kind heart.”

“No’ if it means standing against your brother—or the lot of us, for that matter.”

Gran put a staying hand to each of her grandchildren’s arms. “Hush now, the both of ye. Colin, do ye have time to find another bride if she cries off?”

The thought was like a punch to the gut. “Not with the scandal such a thing would bring. And I doona know if I made myself clear: I love her. Regardless of anything else, I don’t want to lose her for that reason alone.”

His words seemed to echo in the room, and he realized he had raised his voice. Three pairs of widened eyes stared at him from the sofa, with varying levels of surprise. He had surprised himself, really, with the vehemence of his response. At that moment, the maid bustled into the room, carrying the tea service. With her eyes on the tray and the path to the table, she had no idea of the climate of the room. “Welcome home, Sir Colin,” she said, her voice light and cheery. “Congratulations on yer betrothal, such bonny good news.”

Setting down the tray on the long oval sofa table, she brushed off her hands and glanced up at him. Seeing Colin’s expression, her smile immediately dropped. “Beggin’ yer pardon, sir—I dinna mean to interrupt anything.”

Great—now he was scaring the servants. “Doona mind me, Abigail. I’m afraid the journey has exhausted me. Thank you for your sentiments, however.”