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breathes, let alone having someone as lovely as you for his wife.”
    Her friend’s sigh was deep and long. When she looked up, her red-rimmed eyes held defeat. “I have no one to blame but myself. If I had paid more attention, then maybe I would have realized that his regard was for my dowry, not the woman attached to it.”
    Poor Diana. Her mother had passed away several years earlier, and her father seemed to have little regard for his only daughter. He had offered a fantastic dowry with the hope of marrying her off as quickly as possible. It was heartbreaking to think that some of the young ladies entering society as innocents had no true champion for them. Love for her own family welled in Bea’s chest. They may be annoying sometimes, but she could always count on them to have her best interests at heart.
    “What can I do to help? Do you want to stay in one of our guest chambers tonight? I’m certain Mama wouldn’t mind.”
    Diana shook her head. “No, but thank you. Mercy, I feel fool enough to have even told you in the first place. What must you think of me?”
    “I think nothing different of you, my dear. Your husband’s sins are not your own.”
    They both were quiet for a moment, two young ladies whose lives had diverged drastically after starting their first Seasons in nearly the exact same way. Beatrice thought of Mr. Godfrey and how another woman might not be as aware of his motives as she. If only someone could have warned Diana. What if someone had told her what to look for? It was just so heartbreaking that nobody was on her side when she needed it most.
    Pushing off the cushions, Beatrice came to her feet, extending a hand to Diana. “Come, my dear. Let us get you tidied up.”
    As she watched her friend wet her cloth and press it to her eyes to try to wipe away the evidence of her devastation, Bea clenched her teeth against the desire to find Diana’s cur of a husband and give him a piece of her mind. But it wouldn’t help. There was little she could do to help Diana now.
    Bea’s gaze flicked away from Diana’s reflection and settled on her own. Would she have recognized Mr. Rochester for what he was if things had been different? She liked to think so. She was blessed with the ability to see things others overlooked. It’s what made her a good painter, as well as a good spy.
    She sighed, giving Diana a little squeeze. What was done was done—the only thing she could do now was be extra diligent for herself and those she loved.
    And perhaps have Richard invite Mr. Rochester for a friendly match at Gentleman Jackson’s. For the first time since hearing Diana’s sniffle, Beatrice had to bite back a smile.

Chapter Five
    “I ’m fairly certain there is nothing in those tomes that will help you secure a wife.”
    “Yes,” Colin said, craning his neck to smile at his aunt, “but there is plenty here to help me
maintain
one.”
    Aunt Constance’s petite form floated through the library in a cloud of fine muslin and French perfume, distinctly out of place among the austere furniture and towering bookshelves. “Whatever do you mean, darling? The point of a well-dowered wife is to have one’s financial situation taken care of.”
    He loved his aunt and was very grateful to her, but that was exactly the sort of attitude that drove him mad. “On the contrary. A well-dowered wife will save the estate—it is up to me to see to the financial security of the rest of my life. I chose my profession with exactly that in mind.”
    He’d always known of his father’s ineptitude when it came to money. He pushed back against the memories from his childhood of hungry bellies and cold rooms. He’d lived it once—and no matter what, he wouldn’t let that be his future. More important, he wouldn’t let that be his siblings’ future.
    Constance waved a bejeweled hand through the air. “Oh, pish—why toil the rest of your life away? I’m affording you exactly the opportunity to avoid all that.” She