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me to escort you. I know how fond you are of the arts, Lady Beatrice.” He offered a calculated smile that probably softened most females, but only made her grind her teeth.
    “I didn’t realize you were an artist, Lady Beatrice,” Colin said, taking her by surprise. He most certainly
did
know that she was a painter. She liked where he was going with this.
    Blinking innocently, she tilted her head and smiled. “Why, yes! I am not only a painter myself, but a most fervent admirer of your father.”
    His face revealed nothing, but his eyes betrayed his delight in her playing along. “Well, if that is the case, perhaps I can interest you in a private tour of the exhibit before it opens to the public.”
    Rescuing her from Godfrey’s invitation
and
offering her the opportunity of a lifetime? If her mother wouldn’t faint on the spot, she could have kissed the man.
    “Thank you, Sir Colin. I am honored to accept your generous invitation.”
    •   •   •
    “I’m afraid you may have permanently endeared yourself to my sisters.”
    Colin gave her a brief grin before accepting his hat from a footman, who then retreated to his post beside the door. Based on his calls to the women on his list earlier, she shouldn’t have accompanied him on his way out, but it seemed that little stood between her and something she wanted. He rather liked that about her. And he was exceedingly glad for a moment of semiprivacy with her, however brief.
    “Well, if she was going to defend Scotland, it was the least I could do. Patriotic duty, et cetera, et cetera.”
    She tilted her head a bit, her bright blue gaze never leaving his. “You may discount your kindness, but I’m not going to let you get away without a proper thank-you.”
    A
proper
thank-you? Her voice was quiet, her eyes focused solely on him, and for a fleeting moment, he had a vision of her rising on her toes and brushing her lips to his. He swallowed, his blood heating at the thought. “Think nothing of it.”
    “I think
much
of it,” she insisted, holding out her hand to him. “And I thank you.”
    He reached forward, gathering her slender fingers in his hand. There it was again—that tingle of awareness that slipped over his skin whenever he touched her, even through the fabric of their gloves.
    He lifted her hand to his lips, inhaling her lilac scent along with the subtle hints of linseed oil. He paused just shy of his mouth and murmured, “You are most welcome, my lady.”
    He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, and she tightened her fingers for a moment, a gesture that no one but he would notice.
    “I bid you good day, sir. I’m very much looking forward to our tour.”
    Reluctantly releasing her, he stepped back and set his hat over his still-damp hair. “As am I, my lady.” With a slight bow, he turned and headed for the door, keeping his expression neutral for the servant’s sake.
    As ill-advised as it might be, he already knew he would do anything in his power to ensure that the private tour at the gallery with Beatrice was exactly that: private.

Chapter Seven
    S tepping into the airy rooms that housed his father’s memorial exhibit, Colin was suddenly very glad that he had decided to arrive early. The emotions that assailed him were not completely unexpected, but somehow they still came as a surprise. He turned in a circle, taking in the more than twenty pieces that had been brought together for the event.
    No matter what his father had done wrong in his life, he had done his paintings exceedingly right. Colin breathed in a deep lungful of air, pushing against the steel band that seemed to have wrapped around his ribs. It was an odd sort of blissful agony to see the paintings, as bright and vibrant as ever despite the fact Father was gone.
    He breathed out, exhaling the pain and regret away with it. This was to be a good day. All he had thought about since the moment he awoke was seeing Beatrice again, with no one between them but a single