Flirting With Fortune by Erin Knightley

that begged for attention.
    “Oh my,” Carolyn exclaimed, dropping the drape and jumping back from the window. “A carriage just arrived. It must be him!”
    Jocelyn and Beatrice exchanged glances before jumping up from the sofa and hurrying to Carolyn’s side for a glimpse outside. Jocelyn started to lift the curtain, but Beatrice swatted at her hand. “No! Don’t be obvious—he’ll see you.”
    “All right, all right. God forbid he look up into the pouring rain to our exact window and see the vague outline of a person within.”
    Beatrice did not acknowledge her sister’s cheek. She was too busy trying to tamp down on the wave of nervousness that swept through her like a rolling fog, swift and thick. Yes, she was excited about the fact that Colin was Sir Frederick’s son, but it was so much more than that. Only the man himself could be responsible for the giddy unrest within her.
    Taking a deep breath, she inched aside the edge of the curtain and peeked onto the street below. A shiny black carriage waited at the curb, its canopy pulled up against the rain. The matched pair of grays in front of it tossed their heads as a man emerged from within.
    She squinted, but it was impossible to see his face from her vantage point. As a servant secured the horses, the man turned toward the house, one gloved hand holding the brim of his tall hat. Was it Colin? The build looked right, as did the— “Oh, blast.”
    “What?” the twins asked in unison, diverting their attention to her.
    “It’s not him.”
    Carolyn’s face fell. “What? How can you be sure? All I can see is a wavy dark figure next to a wavy dark carriage. I’d be hard-pressed to tell you if the carriage is hooked to horses or elephants.”
    Drat her dratted luck. “It’s in the way he moves.” She blew out an annoyed breath, turning away from the window and stalking back to the couch. Colin had a certain fluidity in the way he carried himself and a confidence that wasn’t conceited. Nothing showy, simply sure.
    The man below was a peacock. Even in the rain, he sauntered toward the door, smugness wrapped around him like a cloak.
    “I swear, Bea, you have gone daft.” Carolyn peeked outside once more before shaking her head. “There is no way to tell from two floors up who he is or isn’t.”
    “Care to make a wager on that?” Beatrice’s voice was more sarcastic than she intended, but she suspected she knew exactly who was outside: Mr. Godfrey.
    Jocelyn raised a pale brow, then turned her attention to her twin. “No, you wouldn’t, Caro. She’s got that look about her when she knows something the rest of us are too slow to catch on to.”
    Why did he not simply give up the hunt? She didn’t want to be stuck with him now, not when Colin could come at any moment. Beatrice turned to her sisters suddenly, her eyes beseeching. “Oh please,
please
come with me when Mama calls me to the drawing room. I do not want to suffer that man alone, and I know Mama wouldn’t turn him away.” Why should she? Beatrice had never addressed her concerns about Godfrey with her mother. She had never thought it necessary—her cold shoulder with the man was practically frozen.
    Carolyn regarded her with her wide, brilliant blue eyes. “Good heavens, don’t tell me you, of all people, are scared of a man. If that’s the case, then where’s the hope for the rest of us less stalwart females?”
    “Oh, shush—being
afraid of
and being
repelled by
are two very different things. Now please, be sisterly and support me in my time of need.”
    Jocelyn snorted. “Now look who’s being dramatic.”
    “Think of it this way—you are always looking for all the gossip about the gentlemen of the
ton
. Well,” she said, putting her hands palm up, “here’s your chance.”
    At least now she had their attention. The soft tap of approaching footsteps had her on her feet. “He’s the handsome third son of the Viscount Ashworth.” She leaned in closer and lowered her