Flirting With Fortune by Erin Knightley Page A

voice, desperate to pique their interest. “I believe he has a secret gambling problem, mounting debts, and he is on the hunt for a wife wealthy enough to set him up for life. Gossip doesn’t get any better than this.”
    The footsteps paused at the same moment someone scratched on the door.
    “Well?” she whispered, looking back and forth between them. Surely they wouldn’t abandon her. Neither one of them was giving her any tells, their faces both impressively blank as they exchanged looks. Honestly, communicating without any outward signs would be
so
useful.
    Jocelyn grinned and craned her neck toward the door. “Enter!”
    A maid popped her head in and curtsied briefly. “Begging your pardon, my ladies. Lady Beatrice, Lady Granville wishes for you to join her in the drawing room to greet Mr. Godfrey.”
    “Thank you, Emily. I’ll be right down.”
    The girl bobbed another quick curtsy and started to close the door.
    “Emily,” Jocelyn called, halting the maid in her tracks, “please let them know to bring enough tea for five.” She waited until Emily withdrew to turn to Beatrice, hands on hips. “Before you thank me, just remember that you owe us.”
    Even so, Beatrice blew out a relieved breath. Holding her hands out to her sisters, she smiled. “Whatever you say, my dears, just so long as you don’t leave my side.”

Chapter Six
    W ell, of course—Granville House would be the largest house on the block.
    Colin shook his head, sending raindrops flying from the brim of his hat. As if he needed a reminder that he had no business calling on someone like Lady Beatrice. But he was here now—practically at her invitation—and he sure as hell wasn’t going to stand around in the pouring rain and dither on the subject.
    He dashed the last few yards and was lifting his hand toward the knocker when the door whooshed open. An austere, balding butler offered him a remarkably blank look. “Yes?”
    Taken off guard, Colin fumbled inside his jacket for his calling card. “Good afternoon,” he said, locating the card at last and handing it over. “I’m Sir Colin Tate and—”
    “Very good, sir,” the man said, interrupting him. Then he stepped back to allow Colin entrance. “If you will wait here, I will let her ladyship know you have arrived.”
    Well, that went much more easily than anticipated. Had Beatrice warned the butler that Colin would make an appearance? She must have, because none of the other butlers today had made things nearly so simple. As the man headed up the great marble staircase, a footman stepped forward to help him out of his dripping-wet overcoat and take his hat.
    Colin nodded his thanks before stomping his feet a few times to shake off the excess moisture from his boots. Duly relieved of as much rainwater as he could manage, he glanced around the entry hall, taking in the cavernous space. And here he had thought his aunt’s house grand. Opulence extended in every direction, from the black-and-white marble floors to the velvet-covered walls, and of course, the mural on the ceiling—all the hallmarks of a family with exceedingly good taste and a budget to match.
    The butler reappeared, descending the stairs with measured steps. “If you’ll follow me, please.”
    By the time they stepped onto the landing, the soft sound of feminine voices reached Colin’s ears. Her sisters, perhaps? The low tones of a male voice interjected, and Colin slowed, taking stock of the situation. Was it Beatrice’s brother? Her father? He didn’t know if he was quite ready to meet either of them.
    The butler paused outside of the door and murmured, “Mr. William Godfrey has called upon the family as well.”
    Colin’s jaw tightened. He really did not want to make small talk with one of Beatrice’s beaux, for God’s sake. Especially half-drowned and feeling like a damn fraud for having come in the first place. But with no other choice, he followed behind the butler as the man opened the door and