by Jo Beverley
“Are you enjoying the ball?” Colette asked, making a polite attempt at conversation with him.
“Well enough,” he said, admiring the way her silky brunette ringlets framed her face. She was truly a beautiful woman.
“Did your ‘friend’ enjoy the book of poetry you bought?”
At first her question startled him, for he could not think to whom she referred. Then he recalled that he had led her to believe that he bought the poetry book for a woman. He gave her an answer to rattle her calm demeanor. “I decided to keep the book for myself.”
She raised her blue eyes at him, as if expecting him to explain himself. The challenging look on her face elicited the same feeling he had for her that afternoon in the bookshop. He had come so close to kissing her then, and now that unexpected desire had returned with a vengeance. Her full lips simply begged to be kissed. He fought the urge to lift his hand and caress her face.
“I read page seventy-four and I’m afraid that I must disagree with you, Miss Hamilton.” The look of surprise on her pretty face made him grin wickedly.
After their meeting in the bookshop, he had been intrigued by her referral to page seventy-four, and he made the effort to read the poem later that night. It turned out to be a ridiculous poem about love at first sight. Surprised that a business-minded and opinionated lady such as Colette would have a tender spot for fated love, he had laughed heartily at her romanticism. Love at first sight was for inexperienced young fools who did not know how love could wound a heart.
“Then you disagree with Christopher Marlowe’s sentiments?” she questioned him with a curious glance.
“Of course,” he scoffed. “There is no such thing as love at first sight.”
“There you are, Colette!” A tall gentleman with a shiny bald head and bushy eyebrows strode purposefully toward them.
“Lord Waverly, may I present my uncle, Lord Randall Hamilton,” Colette introduced him to her uncle. “Uncle Randall, this is the Earl of Waverly.”
Lucien noted the sudden gleam in her uncle’s eyes. “Good evening.”
Randall Hamilton gave Lucien a polite nod. “Good evening, Lord Waverly.” He took hold of Colette’s arm. “If you would excuse us, please.”
Pulling his niece aside rather forcefully, he moved her behind a large and leafy potted plant, but Lucien could still hear their conversation due to her uncle’s harsh tone of voice.
“I have been looking for you for the last twenty minutes. Where is Juliette?” he demanded impatiently, his anger evident in his manner.
“She’s dancing.”
“With whom?”
Colette hesitated before answering. “With Lord Eddington.”
“Good God! I should have expected something like that from her. Not only is Eddington a bastard, but he also has a notorious reputation. Did I not give you both explicit instructions that you were only to dance with gentlemen I approved of first? Did I not?”
“Yes, Uncle Randall.”
“And yet here I find you with Lord Waverly, whose reputation is only slightly better than that of Eddington’s.”
Lucien cringed at that comment. He was not completely innocent of all the feats ascribed to him, but the talk about him was highly overexaggerated. For the first time, the idea that he was someone a young woman might be warned away from left him feeling slightly unsettled. Would this hinder his search for a prospective bride?
“If you expect to marry well, you must be extremely careful. Lord Eddington and Lord Waverly may flirt with you, but they will never marry you.”
The uncle continued to berate Colette, yet maddeningly his voiced lowered into a fierce whisper so that Lucien could no longer make out what he was saying.
He fought an impulse to intervene and protect Colette from her pompous uncle, yet he knew that with his reputation, to have him defending her would do little to help her cause. And though he was loathe to admit it, he agreed with Randall Hamilton, for he was absolutely correct. If he wanted his nieces married, then Colette and her sister should not be seen flirting with the likes of Eddington and himself. Lucien felt some relief that there was a male relative looking after the pretty Hamilton sisters after all. Colette was managing a bookshop on her own, which in itself was problematic. She needed her uncle to watch over her. And Lord knew that the reckless Juliette desperately needed someone to take her in hand.
No, Lucien did not care for the way Colette’s uncle treated her, but had the Hamilton sisters been in his charge, he would be giving them similar orders.
He glanced toward the potted plant and watched as Randall Hamilton marched off with Colette firmly in his grip. Ignoring the niggling sense of unease in his chest when he thought of her, Lucien forced his attention back to the quiet ladies sitting along the wall.
He had a job to do. He needed to find a wife. And he knew without a doubt that his search for a woman who met his list of requirements would not involve love at first sight.
In fact, it would not have anything to do with love at all.
Chapter Four
Business or Pleasure?
“I don’t even care for Jeffrey Eddington in a romantic way,” Juliette declared hotly in her defense. “I just wanted a bit of fun. I thought balls were supposed to be fun. None of the other gaseous windbags I met last evening were any fun at all. And I just wanted to show Uncle Randall that I don’t have to do everything he says.”
Colette fought the urge to snap at her sister and instead slammed the small stack of books she had been holding onto the table in front of her.
She had spent the entire evening at the Hayvenhursts’ ball being lectured by her bombastic uncle, while Juliette flirted outrageously with or scorned any male that came within distance of her. Colette had been so angry by the time they got home, she didn’t trust herself to speak civilly. Here it was the next day, and she was still having a difficult time of it.
“But right now we do have to do everything he says, Juliette!”
“I know that,” Juliette conceded ruefully, “but I just cannot bear all his orders and proclamations.”
“And you believe that I do?” Colette snapped in response. “Do you think I liked dancing with those stodgy men he partnered me with? Do you think I enjoyed being dragged about by Uncle Randall all night, listening to his ranting about your behavior?”
“No,” Juliette admitted, her defiant attitude somewhat deflated. “But you just seem to bear it all better than I do. You’re the responsible one.”
Colette stared pointedly at her sister. “Do you have any idea how important this is to us? It’s not just you and me. Our marrying well is important to Mother. And to Lisette, Paulette, and Yvette. Everything we do now affects them and their futures, as well as our own.”
Juliette glanced down in shame. It was the first time she showed any remorse for her behavior. Colette felt that maybe she had finally gotten through to her.
“This is not a game, Juliette. If you damage your reputation by acting recklessly and foolishly just to spite Uncle Randall, you will not only ruin your own chances of finding a husband, but you may very well ruin mine, too.”
Her sister still said nothing.
“Do you want to end up on the street if we lose the bookshop? Or worse yet, do you want to have to live with Uncle Randall and Aunt Cecilia? Because that is just what will happen if we don’t marry well and I cannot make a go of this shop. Our whole family and our way of life are depending on you and me.”
Juliette looked up, her face contrite, and whispered, “You are right. I’m sorry you had to bear the brunt of my actions, Colette. I promise I will try to behave better next time.”
“Thank you,” Colette said with a sense of relief. “We’ll be going to Lady Hutton’s ball next. I expect you to make more of a pointed effort to please Uncle Randall then.”
“I will.”
“I’m not saying that you have to marry anyone he suggests, just try to comport yourself in a manner that satisfies him, all right
?” Colette began shelving the books she had slammed onto the table a few moments before.
“I will try, I promise.”
Now that she was no longer in disgrace, Juliette’s disposition lightened with a flashing smile and Colette marveled at the mercurial quickness of her moods. Her sister could change from anger to laughter in mere seconds. Her ability to do so always astounded her.
Colette rolled the tall library ladder that allowed her to reach the higher shelves of the philosophy section into position and began to climb the wooden rungs. “Hand me those books, please.” She pointed to another stack on the table that she had already alphabetized and categorized.
Juliette languidly passed two volumes of Rene Descartes up to her sister. “You have to admit that all the men Uncle Randall suggested were hideous. Each one was a disaster. A disaster with deep pockets, but a disaster just the same. The only handsome men who even got close to us were Lord Eddington and his somewhat humorless friend, the Earl of Waverly.”
At the mention of Lucien Sinclair, Colette’s foot slipped from the ladder rung and she dropped one of the books. She righted herself quickly and took a deep breath.
“Be careful up there!” Juliette admonished, retrieving the fallen book.
“I’m fine,” Colette said shakily.
Juliette continued, “Lord Eddington was great fun, though. A girl has to be on her toes when she’s with him. But that Lord Waverly seemed so proper and so very lord-of-the-manor stiff, for all he has a reputation as a rogue. I didn’t care for him.”
Colette wondered what her sister would think of Lucien Sinclair if she knew that he’d almost kissed her in the bookshop last week. She had kept that little secret to herself, though. Last night Lord Waverly had possessed a cool seriousness that made her more uncomfortable than his attempted kiss. Frankly, she had been stunned to see him at the Hayvenhursts’ ball and had been unsure how to approach him. He had not asked her to dance as Lord Eddington had done with Juliette and he had seemed un-sinterested in her, almost distant. And still he managed to occupy Colette’s thoughts for the remainder of the night.
However, Juliette’s astute observation could not be denied. Lord Eddington and Lord Waverly were indeed the handsomest men in attendance. And apparently the most wicked, according to her uncle’s claims. She found that information about Lord Waverly easy to believe after their sensual encounter in the bookshop last week, when she thought he wanted to kiss her. Yet if Lord Waverly’s reputation was that of a rogue, she could not help but wonder why he did not kiss her that day. Wasn’t that how rakes behaved?
Even though he had irritated her with his condescending attitude, for some reason she had spent the remainder of the evening trying to imagine what it would be like if he had kissed her. Perhaps it was his mention of page seventy-four.
The poem by Christopher Marlowe she had recommended to Lord Waverly that afternoon had always been her favorite. She didn’t even know why she told him about it, but the words had escaped her mouth before she could stop them. The poem was one of many she had committed to memory over the years, and its romantic meaning had always resonated deeply within her.
Who Ever Loved, That Loved Not at First Sight?
It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate.
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin,
We wish that one should love, the other win;
And one especially do we affect
Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:
The reason no man knows; let it suffice
What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?
Deep within Colette’s practical and responsible being lurked a yearning romantic soul that she kept well hidden from others. As much as she understood and agreed with her uncle’s reasons that she and Juliette must marry for money, such a mercenary approach went against her warm core. She held out a slim hope that she would meet the perfect husband during this Season. A man she could love and be loved by in return. A man who would support her work in the bookshop, yet still take care of her and her family. A man who would be a partner to her in all ways. She felt in her heart that she would know this man at first sight, just as in the poem.
Recalling that Lord Waverly had said he wanted the book as a gift for a female friend, Colette wondered who this friend was, and if he had read page seventy-four with her. But more importantly, she wondered why he mentioned the poem to her at all.
The jingling of the bells above the front door brought her back to the present.
“My, my,” Juliette muttered below her. “Look who the cat dragged in.”
Colette glanced around from her perch on the ladder and froze in place.
Lucien Sinclair, the Earl of Waverly, stood there in the shop as if her very thoughts had conjured him to appear.
“I’ll take care of this,” Juliette whispered low, while Colette remained immobilized.
“Good afternoon, Miss Hamilton,” he said rather lightly, as Juliette moved forward to greet him. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Colette’s heart raced erratically and she clutched the sides of the ladder tightly in her palms. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Honestly, what am I so nervous about? More than likely he was just there to purchase books.
“Good afternoon, Lord Waverly,” Juliette said.
Colette detected a slight sarcastic quality in Juliette’s voice as Lucien Sinclair stopped beside the front counter. She suddenly realized he had not noticed her clinging to the ladder near the back of the shop, but she had a clear view of him. And that view was quite nice. In his long black cape and black hat, he appeared extremely tall and imposing. The misty drizzle outside had covered him in little spots of water and he seemed to shimmer. His handsome male presence demanded all of her attention.
“Did you enjoy the Hayvenhursts’ ball, Miss Hamilton?” he asked her sister politely.
“As a matter of fact, I had a lovely time,” Juliette said with forced pertness. “Did you?”
“Yes.”
“How odd,” she remarked carelessly at his response. “I had the distinct impression that you were not enjoying yourself.”
“Why would you think something like that?” Lord Waverly questioned her, his dark brows furrowed.
“Because, to be quite frank, you had a rather serious look on your face.” Juliette was simply being perverse, but Colette clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud at the audacity of her sister’s words.
His eyes widened at Juliette’s bold statement, but he retaliated quickly. “I suppose seeing a young lady behave scandalously might have that effect upon me.”
“You would not be referring to my behavior perchance, would you, Lord Waverly?” Her voice positively dripped with sweetness.
With a disapproving glare, he countered evenly, “What do you think, Miss Hamilton?”
“I’m sure it must be quite difficult for you to recognize it in someone else, since it’s obvious that you don’t know how to do it yourself, Lord Waverly, but I was merely enjoying myself.”
“By flirting outrageously with every gentleman present?”
Colette listened to their conversation with a growing sense of fascination. Lord Waverly was chastising her sister for the very same reasons she had done earlier. On the one hand she felt disheartened that Lord Waverly had noted her sister’s scandalous behavior last night, but on the other hand she was grateful to have an ally.
“Oh, not every male, Lord Waverly,” Juliette stated with an arch look. “Only the handsomest ones with the most charming manners.” While clearly implying that he did not fall into that category, Juliette changed the topic with deft ease. “Did you come in here simply to escape the rain, or is there perhaps a purpose to your delightful visit today, my lord?”
Proving himself a gentleman of r
estraint by not responding to Juliette’s taunt, he stated the obvious. “I am here to purchase books.”
“Well then, Lord Waverly, how can I be of assistance to you today?” Juliette asked with false brightness.
“I don’t believe you can help me at all, Miss Hamilton. I was hoping your sister would be available to select some books for my father. And what better place to find something interesting than at Hamilton’s Book Shoppe.”
“Yes, interesting would be the word to describe it.” Juliette gave him a challenging look.
Ignoring her sarcasm, he asked, “Is your sister here?”
“All of my sisters are here. To which one were you referring, I wonder?”
He tilted his head in acknowledgment of her little game and to indicate that he was not amused by it. “I was referring to Miss Colette Hamilton.”
Juliette smiled triumphantly. “Well, why don’t you ask her yourself? She’s right there.” She gestured with an elegant wave of her hand to Colette.
In surprise Lord Waverly turned to find Colette perched on the ladder, his eyes raking over her. Colette suddenly wished she were not wearing her dusty old work apron and had taken the time to fix her hair nicely that morning. She knew she looked like a disheveled mess.
Glancing up at Colette, he called to her. “Good afternoon, Miss Hamilton.”
“Good afternoon, Lord Waverly,” she murmured in response. Carefully she forced her shaking legs to step back down the ladder one rung at a time. Running a hand over her mane of dark hair to smooth it as best she could, Colette faced him.
“I was just having an interesting discussion with your charming sister,” he commented, his sarcasm unmistakable.
“Yes, I heard.” She nodded toward the ladder.
“Apparently.” He smiled at her, softening the lines of his face and causing her heart to flutter. “Are you able to assist me today?”