“Your sister is quite popular today,” Bella said as Greg led her from the parlor toward a set of stairs.

“She often is,” he agreed. “You didn’t wait too long for me, I hope.”

Bella shook her head. “Not long at all.”

“I was finishing up with your father. Took longer than I expected. I am sorry I was late.”

Finishing up with Papa? “I didn’t realize he was meeting with you.”

Greg nodded as they began to ascend the stairs. “This afternoon in my study to go over the marriage contract.” He flashed her a grin. “Congratulations, my dear, you are now officially betrothed to me.”

The marriage contract. Bella hadn’t given that even a thought. How awful for Greg to have to sit through such a thing when he knew it was all for naught. “I’m sorry you had to do that.”

“Appearances,” he muttered. “I couldn’t very well avoid it.” He shrugged as they reached the landing. “And I didn’t mind, not really. Kept me from having to answer any more questions from Tristan or Phoebe.”

“You sister-in-law seems to adore you,” Bella said as Greg led her into a small sitting room where her easel and canvas were already set up in the far corner along with her valise and a white covering atop part of an Aubusson rug. “She said she and your brother never would have found each other if not for you.”

He frowned slightly. “Oh, they found each other without my help.”

Bella blinked up at him.

And then he shrugged. “You shared the skeletons in the Winslett family closet. I suppose it’s only fair to share the Averys’.”

“Have you many?”

“A few,” he replied and directed her to a small settee in the middle of the room.

Bella sat, and Greg assumed the place beside her.

“A few years ago, Phoebe met both of my brothers Russell and Tristan at the same time. Tristan disliked her immediately. He is not a believer in love at first sight, by the way.” He chuckled as he shook his head. “Russell, on the other hand, found her quite engaging and she felt the same way about him. He courted her for a period of time and they eventually became betrothed.”

She’d been betrothed to her husband’s brother? That was scandalous.

“Then Napoleon escaped Elba and their regiment was called back to the continent. After Waterloo, they returned to England and the spell between Russell and Phoebe wasn’t quite the same. Or perhaps she simply became aware that he was not who she originally thought he was.”

“Who was he?” Elliott had said he didn’t think Grandfather would approve of Russell. She remembered that. But she’d never heard anything else about the man.

“A philanderer of the worst variety,” Greg replied. “But the two of them were still betrothed when Tristan and Phoebe found themselves quite in love. And they ended up running off to Scotland before she officially ended her engagement to Russell.”

Scandalous, indeed. Goodness! Bella shook her head. “I don’t understand why she thinks you helped them find each other. Did you introduce them all those years ago?”

Greg shook his head. “I helped them get to Scotland.”

“Oh.” Bella’s mouth fell open. She hadn’t expected that answer or anything close to it. “So you do believe in true love? I didn’t think you did.”

A quizzical expression settled on his face and Greg said, “Why would you think that?”

And Bella hated the intensity of his gaze on her at that moment. “You said you didn’t need a wife. You made it seem like…”

He looked slightly uncomfortable, all of a sudden. “I don’t need one,” he began. “Nor do I imagine I’ll ever have one.”

“But,” Bella started, “if you believe in true love—”

“I was in love,” he said, and that pain she’d seen reflected in his eyes from time to time was once again there. “She…died.” He heaved a sigh. “And I have come to learn in the years since that she wasn’t really the lady I’d always thought her to be. So it’s not that I don’t believe in love, Bella. I simply don’t trust my own judgment on the matter.”

* * *

Greg had no idea why he admitted that truth to Bella, that he didn’t trust his own judgment. He’d never actually said those particular words to anyone. He’d never even admitted that truth to himself before. But it was the truth. He’d been so devastated when he learned who Marina really was, and by then she’d long since been gone. And he had no idea how the devil he’d been so blind.

Bella’s silvery eyes stared so intently at him, and Greg felt the tiniest bit vulnerable under her scrutiny. And then she looked away.

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head as she pushed off the settee and started toward the far corner of the room where her easel and canvas had been set up. “I should never have asked you. It’s certainly none of my business.”

No, it wasn’t. And yet telling her the truth had been so natural, which really was the strangest thing. “I don’t usually talk about her,” he said softly. “It was a long time ago.”

Bella bent at her knees and opened the valise at her feet. “Do you want to tell me about her?” she asked as she retrieved a palette and some paints from inside.

Did he want to tell Bella about Marina? Not even in the least. The last thing he wanted to do was tarnish Bella’s sweet innocence with hearing tales of Marina’s duplicitous nature. “No.”

Bella nodded as though she understood, though she couldn’t possibly. “Then we’ll just get started.” And she began to add some paint and mix some colors on her palette.

Greg simply watched her. The gentle sweep of her lashes against her cheeks, the crease of her brow as she focused on her work, the way she bit her bottom lip as she swirled the mixtures together on her palette…and the urge to kiss that abused lip washed over Greg. And if he was honest with himself, he’d like to do much more than just kiss her. He had no doubt, however, that Bella had no idea how seductive she was or how her very nearness affected him. But she did. She affected him quite a lot.

In another life, perhaps…

If things were different…

If he wasn’t so tarnished…

“Decide how you’d like to sit for the portrait, Greg,” she said, still focused on her paints.

“You don’t have something particular in mind?”

She did look over at him then, a gentle smile across her lips. “I’m not the one who is going to be sitting in the same spot for a few days. If I were you, I’d pick a comfortable position.”

“A few days?” he echoed, glad to have her attention once again focused solely on him instead of her palette. Dear God, what was wrong with him?

Bella giggled slightly. “You have never sat for a portrait before.”

“That obvious, is it?”

She shook her head. “It will take a few sittings, Greg. And you have to sit in the same position with the same expression so I can capture you perfectly.”

Part of him suspected she had already captured him, but not, of course, in the way she meant. He leaned back against the settee and regarded her again. “Well, by the time we’re through, I imagine we’ll have had so many conversations that we’ll easily be able to convince anyone of our betrothal.”

She blinked at him. “So many conversations?”

“Yes, while you’re painting me. We’ll most likely be able to address everything from our childhood sibling rivalries to what we each had for breakfast this morning.”

Bella’s pretty mouth fell slightly open. Then she shook her head. “You can’t talk to me, Greg. You’ll never keep the same expression on your face if you do.”

Yes, Greg knew that. But there was something so endearing in watching her explain it to him. “I can’t say anything?”

She shook her head once more. “Of course not.”

“Well, then you shall have to do all of the talking, then.”

“I-I’ll be painting.”

“Surely you can paint and talk at the same time,” he said. “You’ll have to keep me entertained somehow if I’m to sit in the same spot for days and am not able to speak.”

The prettiest pink stained her cheeks. “I hardly think I have anything that interesting to talk about for so long.”

That he doubted. “Come now. Tell me about you. Tell me how you started painting.” Honestly, there was so much he wished he knew about her. Her love of art was just a starting place.

The softest smile graced her lips and Greg felt it deep in his soul. “I watched my mother,” she said after a moment. “As a small child, I would sit in her studio and watch her work. The way she could take paint and canvas and create magic right before my eyes.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the image she painted in his mind. He could almost see the beautiful, dark-haired little girl she’d once been, completely captivated by her mother’s talent. “You miss her?”

The smile on Bella’s face faded away. “No.” She picked her palette back up and turned her focus once more on the blending of her colors again. “I miss who I thought she was. But the mother I thought she was would never have abandoned Elliott, Prissa and me.” She shook her head as she lifted her paintbrush to the canvas. “So I don’t miss her, not who she really is. I’m sure that sounds ridiculous.”

Not in the least. “I know exactly how that feels,” Greg said, surprising himself by saying those words aloud. But it was true. That was exactly how he felt about Marina. Exactly. He missed who he’d thought she was, but if he could’ve had just one last conversation with her, knowing who she truly was…well, he felt confident he could have moved past her long before now. “You haven’t thought about finding your mother?”

“To what end? So she can spin lie after lie about how much she loved all of us?” Bella shook her head. “She still left us, Greg. And I know why. She hated Grandfather’s domineering nature, but she had a choice. And she chose to leave us behind. Finding her won’t change that and it won’t change the fact that she isn’t the mother I needed when I needed her.”

And she didn’t even sound sad about that. Just very matter-of-fact as though she’d given the situation a great amount of thought and decided her mother wasn’t worth all the agony and grief in the end. Greg released a sigh he hadn’t known he was holding. Was it possible he could ever reach that same place in his life? That his history with Marina could be washed away like pebbles into the ocean?

“Is that how you want to sit?” she asked, looking back at him, her brow lifted in question.

Leaning back against his sister’s settee, feeling sorry for himself? “Not quite the most regal position, is it?”

She laughed as she shook her head. “But you do look comfortable. There’s no reason you have to look regal or stiff.”

“Think how disappointed Cordie will be if I don’t have a smug expression,” he said.

And that only made her laugh harder. “I would never call you smug.”

“And that, my dear, is why you’re my favorite fiancée.”