by Jo Beverley
As her gaze drifted up to the boxes across from where they sat, Colette’s breath caught as she noticed a familiar figure. Lucien Sinclair. He appeared to be with an older couple and a young lady in a green silk gown, while he sat rather impassively, making polite conversation with the older gentleman.
Juliette leaned close to her and whispered in her ear so their aunt and uncle could not hear. “Do you see who Lord Waverly is sitting with? That is Lady Faith Bromleigh, the one I told you about. Those are her parents.”
Colette mumbled, “They make a nice pair together.”
Juliette shrugged as if she did not agree. “You must be blind. Do you think he kisses her in dark gardens? I doubt it.”
Colette shook her head, ignoring the sudden nauseous sensation in her belly. Although she could not picture Lucien Sinclair kissing Lady Faith the way he had kissed her, she did not like to picture him kissing anyone else.
Had she only imagined the feelings between them? Perhaps she had read too much into his attention to her. He had not made any formal overtures to her or asked to court her, as he had obviously done with Lord Bromleigh’s daughter. He had not asked her to the theater. He had not asked her to go riding in the park. He had not formally called on her in any way.
No, he had just kissed her passionately. And his kisses left her weak, shaking, and hungry for more.
Yes, it was the kissing that gave her pause. Others might say that he kissed her because he was a rake, but somehow, deep down, she knew there was something more between them. It was the way he had kissed her. The way he held her in his arms. And how he said to her afterward that kissing did not always feel that special. She believed him.
Or was she simply a fool who wanted to believe him?
Her heart sank as she watched Lucien sit with Lady Faith at his side. She was a true lady. And not just because of her title either. Colette knew that Lady Faith Bromleigh, with her modest clothes and shy demeanor, would never deign to work in a bookshop as Colette did. She would never dirty her hands working for a living. She was the perfect earl’s wife. Something Colette could never be. And that was why Lucien was sitting in the theater with Lady Faith Bromleigh and not Miss Colette Hamilton.
“Would you care to borrow my opera glasses?” Jeffrey asked her with an innocent grin. “You would be amazed at how much clearer everything is with these.”
Unable to stop herself, she murmured, “Thank you.”
She took the small brass binoculars from him and held them to her eyes, peering at the people below, attempting to gaze nonchalantly around the theater, as she gradually moved her line of vision to the Bromleighs’ box. She took a closer look at Lady Faith Bromleigh, the woman whom Lucien intended to marry.
The girl was passably attractive. With her pale blond hair parted severely down the middle, she could not quite be called pretty for she had not enough light in her blue eyes or a hint of a smile in her expression. It was difficult to imagine her doing anything but sitting with her hands folded primly in her lap.
No, she was not fashionable nor elegant in the least. Faith’s dark green gown was high-necked and plain, quite different from Colette’s off-the-shoulder gown in a delicate shade of blue, edged with a darker blue lace. Earlier Juliette had remarked that the color emphasized her eyes as well as her bosom and Aunt Cecilia had said the gown was the height of fashion, so Colette had felt quite flirtatious wearing it. Now however, seeing the somber way in which Faith Bromleigh was attired, Colette suddenly felt overexposed and flashy. Obviously Lucien preferred women who dressed modestly, without drawing any attention to themselves.
Very slowly, without attracting attention, she moved her line of vision to peer at Lucien, who sat beside Faith Bromleigh.
Her heart nearly stopped beating and she suppressed a horrified squeal as she found him staring directly at her with his own pair of opera glasses. Startled and embarrassed to have him catch her spying on him, she hurriedly dropped the glasses in her lap just as the house lights dimmed. Grateful for the dark, she wished she could crawl under the chair and hide. How mortifying to be caught looking at him! It was not until the orchestra began playing that it suddenly occurred to her that she had caught him looking at her, too. She smiled.
Colette did not know Italian, but it hardly mattered, for she became lost in the beautiful singing. Able to discern the poignant love story, she became riveted by the action on the stage and was startled at the drawing of the velvet curtains at intermission.
Jeffrey and Uncle Randall left the box to bring the ladies some refreshments.
“Which one of you does he fancy?” Aunt Cecilia hissed as soon the men were gone. Almost as tall as Uncle Randall, Cecilia possessed severe facial features that only accentuated her haughty demeanor: a long pointed nose, sharp cheekbones, and thin lips that pursed into a perpetual frown. Her wheat blond hair was pulled tightly from her face.
“What do you mean?” Colette asked, knowing full well to what her aunt referred.
“You know exactly what I mean,” Aunt Cecilia said flatly. “Lord Eddington is obviously interested in one of you enough to extend an invitation to your uncle and me tonight. I would simply like to know which one of you it is.” Her keen eyes flicked back and forth over them.
“I have no idea.” Colette told the truth.
“Well, perhaps he is still making up his mind between you,” Aunt Cecilia ruminated aloud. “If either of you can bring him up to scratch, that would be something! For all that Lord Eddington was born on the wrong side of the sheets, his father is still the Duke of Rathmore. Imagine marrying into that family! Has he said nothing to indicate interest in either of you?”
Colette shook her head. Juliette kept her mouth closed, oddly enough.
Aunt Cecilia continued, “He’s a charmer, that one. And quite handsome, too.”
A look came over her aunt’s face that Colette had never seen before. A little sparkle appeared in her eyes and she almost smiled.
“Perhaps your uncle will be able to get some information out of him while they are alone,” she continued, wrapping her shawl tightly around her shoulders. “Still you must be careful with a man like Eddington. People can easily get the wrong idea.”
Before Colette could respond, Lucien Sinclair opened the curtains to their box. Looking more handsome than ever in his fine evening clothes, his virile presence engulfed her.
“Good evening, ladies. I happened to notice you from across the theater and thought I would stop by to say hello.”
“Hello,” Colette said. She could barely breathe at the sight of him and she did not imagine that his gaze rested on her longer than necessary. The stunning emerald green of his eyes and his thick lashes startled her.
An actual smile appeared on Aunt Cecilia’s face. “Why, Lord Waverly! What a pleasant surprise to see you here.”
Lucien said, “You ladies look lovely this evening.”
Aunt Cecilia beamed at his compliment while Juliette rolled her eyes in an unladylike manner, but Colette felt he was looking only at her.
“How is your father, Lord Waverly? Is he well?” Aunt Cecilia questioned him.
“Thank you for asking, Lady Hamilton. He is much recovered.”
“I am delighted to hear it.”
“Have you enjoyed the opera so far?” Colette asked, hating how ridiculously nervous she felt in his presence. The strange tension between them seemed more heightened than usual.
“Not particularly,” he said, his expression unreadable.
“No?” Judging from the subdued demeanor of the Bromleigh family, Colette could not help but believe he referred to the company he kept rather than the opera performance itself.
Lucien explained, “I do not seem to be in the mood for opera this evening.” He paused before looking directly at Colette. “Are you enjoying the view from here?”
Colette did not know whether to cringe or laugh at his reference to their little exchange with the opera glasses. “The view has been quite lovely,”
she managed to reply.
A seductive smile swept his face and Colette felt her pulse quicken in response.
“How are the Bromleighs?” Juliette asked pointedly.
Lucien turned to her with a direct gaze, although he seemed almost surprised to hear the Bromleigh name mentioned. “They are quite well, thank you.”
“How is Faith enjoying the opera?” Juliette pressed him, possessing a talent for goading people.
“She adores it. In fact, I must return to her now. I wish you ladies a good evening.” Lucien bowed elegantly and took his leave of their box. To Colette, it suddenly felt as if the sun hid behind a cloud.
After he left and the red velvet curtains swung back into place, Aunt Cecilia declared, “Now that man would be a feather in our family cap indeed.”
“I thought you disapproved of him!” Juliette exclaimed.
“Of course not! He is the heir to a wealthy marquisate,” she said with calculated practicality, her hard eyes glittering at the prospect. “For all his scandalous reputation, any girl would consider herself lucky to land him. Although I too have heard rumors he is about to settle down with that quiet Faith Bromleigh and his presence with them this evening does lend credence to that rumor, I do wonder at his visit to us. He certainly did not stop by to chat with me. I wonder which one of you has captured his interest?”
Colette could not answer her, for she honestly did not know what to say to her aunt in response. She dared not tell her that she had captured Lord Waverly’s interest while kissing him in a secluded garden.
“Hmm,” Aunt Cecilia pondered, her eyes still on them. “That would be something if he were to marry one of you. On the other hand, you must guard your reputations. Oh, here is Lord Eddington now. I must say, I do so enjoy his company.”
Their conversation came to an abrupt end as Uncle Randall and Jeffrey returned, bringing them each glasses of lemonade. As Colette sipped the sweet liquid, she could not stop herself from glancing across the theater in Lucien’s direction. He had returned to his seat beside the staid Faith Bromleigh and Colette found him staring blatantly back at her. His gaze unwavering, Colette forced herself to look away from him, a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.
As the second act began, she could feel his eyes on her, even in the dark.
Chapter Fifteen
Special Delivery
The doorbell rang at Devon House, but to Lucien, preoccupied with balancing accounts for the estate in his study, the sound of the bell barely registered in his consciousness. Fully immersed in adding up figures and comparing his sums to those of Mr. Kirby, his estate manager, he moved his pen with quick precision across the paper as his mind calculated the large sums with skilled ease.
A knock on the door of his private study prompted him to call, “Come in,” but he did not look up from his books. There was an error in Kirby’s accounting, and Lucien was determined to find it.
“My lord, you have a visitor.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Lucien murmured in response to Granger, the Devon House butler. He continued to work at the long column of numbers on the sheet in front of him.
“It’s a young lady.”
Lucien still did not respond, his head bowed over the ledger in front of him.
Granger cleared his throat rather loudly. Having been with the Sinclair family since before Lucien was born, he felt he had certain privileges within the house. “My lord, there is a young lady here to see you. A Miss Hamilton.”
“Who do you say?” The name had finally penetrated Lucien’s preoccupied brain. He immediately closed the leather-bound ledger and placed his pen back in the inkpot on his desk. “Miss Hamilton? Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Is she alone? Where is she now?”
What on earth is Colette doing at my house?
Granger seemed taken aback by Lucien’s sudden barrage of questions. “She’s waiting for you in the front parlor. And yes, she is alone. Apparently she has come to deliver some books you ordered from her shop.”
A sudden excitement racing through him at the thought of Colette at Devon House, Lucien rose to his feet in front of the great mahogany desk where his father once sat. He had immediately assumed it was Colette who was waiting in his parlor, but perhaps it was one of her sisters. “You say it was Miss Colette Hamilton?”
“Yes, I believe that is the name she gave. She’s quite a pretty lady, my lord.” Granger grinned, obviously understanding Lucien’s interest in the young woman.
“Yes, well, that she is.” Lucien smiled ruefully. “Thank you, Granger. I’ll see to the lady now.”
As Lucien made his way to the front parlor, he realized his heart was beating faster than usual. Surprised by and annoyed with himself for the obvious sign of excitement at seeing her, he tried to relax and breathe calmly before he saw her.
Colette stood waiting by the large window overlooking the street, with her back turned partially to the room. She had not heard him come in. Her profile, the elegant outline of her face, was visible under the pretty yellow bonnet that covered her rich hair, and he thought how beautiful she was simply standing there. She wore a simple dress the color of pale daffodils, which only emphasized the blue color of her eyes and set off her figure to perfection. A figure that would make any healthy man’s blood boil. She was gut-wrenchingly attractive. He recalled what it felt like to hold her in his arms and kiss her senseless, touching her and kissing her.
He did not like how she made him feel.
She haunted his thoughts night and day.
Lady Faith Bromleigh did not inspire such feeling within him, which was exactly why she was the perfect choice to be his bride. There would be no pain, no drama, and no heartache with that marriage. With Faith, he would be safe.
Unlike Colette, who left him feeling off balance, somewhat vulnerable, and always so damned aroused. Yet he had never met a woman he’d wanted to learn more about. A woman he wanted to talk to, wanted to kiss, and wanted to make love to and hold on to. A woman he wanted to pull into his arms that very moment and crush her to him—Bloody hell!
The object of his lustful thoughts and sensual fantasies turned to look at him. For a moment all he saw were her incredible blue eyes, and he could not breathe.
“Good afternoon,” she said hesitantly, unsure of her welcome. She gestured to a bundle wrapped in brown paper resting upon the side table. “Your Charles Dickens books arrived. You haven’t been by the shop recently, so I thought I would bring them to you myself.”
“Thank you, Colette,” he managed to say. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
“You’re welcome. It was no trouble, really. I needed to go for a walk and get out of the shop for some air anyway.”
“You brought no chaperone with you?” he questioned.
“No,” she responded crisply. “I am a businesswoman conducting business, and I do not require the presence of a chaperone. This is not a social call.”
“I see.” But he did not. She should not be venturing out unescorted no matter what her reason. He searched for something to say to her. “Did you enjoy the opera the other evening?”
“Yes,” she said, her face lit from within. “It was my first time at the opera and I found it quite lovely.”
“You and Juliette were there as guests of Lord Eddington?”
“Yes, his father invited my aunt and uncle.”
“I see,” he said. She seemed to withdraw from him at the mention of the opera. An awkward silence ensued for a few moments.
She began to walk toward the door, as if to leave the room. “Well, I should be returning to the bookshop now. I—”
“No, please stay,” he protested, placing his hand on her arm to stop her, suddenly loath to see her leave. He had barely recovered from the shock of seeing her in his home, and now she wanted to leave before he’d had a chance to talk to her.
Startled by his words, she froze and looked up at him, her expression confused. “Why?”
Realizing his hand was s
till on her arm, he still did not remove it, relishing the warmth of her skin through the soft yellow material of her dress. An image of him sliding that dress from her curvaceous body flashed through his mind, causing him to shake himself back to the present. He should send her home, safely on her way. After that night in the garden, he was too tempted by the sweetness of her mouth. For both their sakes, he would be wise to have her leave.
“Because I have wanted to show you our library and I would like your advice about what books might be a good addition to our collection,” he heard himself saying.
She hesitated. “I’m not sure if I should…”
“I could really use your help,” he cajoled.
“Well,” she murmured, a shy smile appearing on her face. “I suppose it would be all right. Shall we bring the new books to the library?”
“Absolutely.” He retrieved the package from the table.
Ignoring the little thrill he felt that he had successfully persuaded Colette to stay, he escorted her from the parlor and down the main hallway of Devon House to the library. He swung open the heavy double doors.
“Well, what do you think?” he asked her.
Thick, dark wood shelves lined the walls of the massive room, while tall arched windows framed the fourth wall. Half the shelves were completely empty. A white marble fireplace flanked by bookshelves dominated the main wall. A few leather chairs were scattered about and a wooden ladder rested against one of the shelves. The floor and windows were bare, devoid of carpet and draperies. The heavy odor of fresh paint lingered in the air.
He watched her expression as she inspected the shell of a library.
“It will be an impressive room when it is finished,” she remarked bluntly, “but it is definitely in dire need of more books.”
“Yes, it is,” he admitted with a chuckle, and then explained. “We used to have a full library with some wonderful first editions. But apparently there was a leak behind one of the walls. A very slow leak. With my father so ill, I didn’t notice it until the damage was done. The shelves had buckled and the books became wet and molded, especially after that bad rainstorm we had last fall. They had to gut the room, rip out the old shelves, and repair the walls. Now that the library has been completely redone, we are in the process of restocking the new shelves.”