When His Kiss Is Wicked (20 page)

Lucien stifled another yawn as Lord Bromleigh droned on about the type of trees he had recently planted on his estate in Sussex. Lord Bromleigh had told this exact same story two nights ago, and Lucien still could not fathom what the man was talking about. He had been invited to dine with the Bromleighs for the second time that week and he was having difficulty keeping his eyes open. Good Lord, but the man was an utter bore.

Faith nodded eagerly as her father continued his dull discourse on the advantages and disadvantages of maples and oaks. “Yes, Papa. The trees will be lovely and I shall greatly enjoy the shade they will provide.”

Lucien’s intended bride was seated across from him and had worn another dull and serious gown of an indeterminate shade of taupe. The odd thought that once they were married he might suggest that she visit a more flattering dressmaker crossed his mind. She might actually be pretty in a light shade of blue or pink, to bring out some color in her face.

But then again, it did not really matter what Faith looked like.

What mattered most now was banishing Colette Hamilton from his mind. He had not seen her since his mother returned to Devon House, but she continued to haunt his thoughts every waking moment. Lucien had no need to be haunted by a woman. He had had quite enough of that in his life, thank you. The sooner he married Faith Bromleigh, the better off he would be. A peaceful coexistence would suit him best. He could not bear a tumultuous marriage like his parents had.

Nor could he explain the strange reconnection the pair was experiencing now.

The change in his father since his mother’s return had astounded Lucien. It seemed as though the man suddenly became ten years younger. His speech had improved dramatically and he was attempting to walk. In spite of Lucien’s fears, Lenora’s return seemed to have had a healing influence on Simon. Now his mother and father were inseparable, closeted in his room for hours at a time, talking and crying. Lucien supposed they had a great deal to discuss, but unlike his father, he was not so ready to forgive his mother.

“Lord Waverly?”

Lucien was startled to discover that Lord Bromleigh had addressed him directly.

“Yes?”

He eyed Lucien sharply. “I asked if you would like to escort my daughter for a short walk in the garden?”

Ignoring the knot forming in the pit of his stomach, Lucien nodded at Lord Bromleigh’s question, and turned to Faith, whose face had turned a remarkable shade of pink. “Yes, I would love some fresh air, wouldn’t you, Lady Faith?”

With her eyes downcast, she merely lowered her head in acquiescence. Lucien dutifully escorted Faith Bromleigh from the formal dining room and out the French doors to the patio and garden beyond.

The awkward silence grew as they walked the neat flag-stone path; only the sounds of their shoes on the stone echoed around their ears. Lost in his own thoughts, Lucien was content to walk in wordlessness for as long as he could.

“Did you enjoy supper, Lord Waverly?” Faith asked.

Surprised by her attempt at conversation, he answered, “Yes. It was delicious.”

They continued walking slowly.

“My father said you wish to marry me.”

Now completely stunned by her, Lucien stood still and stared at the plain woman beside him. “Yes. Your father spoke the truth.”

“May I ask you a frank question?”

“Of course.” Wondering what the timid miss would ask him, he felt somewhat bemused by her. For the first time since he met her, she looked directly into his eyes, and he was taken aback by the intensity he saw within the pale blue depths.

“Why?” she asked.

“Why what?”

“
Why
do you wish to marry me?”

“Why do I wish to marry you?” he questioned her in return.

Faith gave him a look that bordered on exasperation. “I may be shy, Lord Waverly, but I assure you that I am not stupid. I am quite aware that I’m not the epitome of fashion or the wittiest or prettiest female out this Season. However, you are a most eligible bachelor and could have your choice of any of the beauties. So why would you care to marry me?”

For the first time they were alone together and actually having a conversation without either of her parents hovering over them. He had to admit he admired her candid approach, even though he would not have expected it of her. Perhaps there was more to her personality than he had given her credit for. “Since you wish to be forthright, let me ask you this question first, Lady Faith. Am I someone you would consider as a husband?”

She paused longer than he would have suspected, which irritated him. She should be jumping at the chance to marry him. She just said he was one of the most sought-after bachelors in London!

When she finally responded, her answer surprised him. “I’m not entirely certain. To all outward appearances we are quite different in our tastes and interests, and I’m not sure we have much in common. I have no idea what you would expect in a wife, nor if I could successfully fulfill the role of countess and eventually marchioness. I must admit, Lord Waverly, I harbor serious and grave doubts about whether we would suit each other as husband and wife.”

The longest speech he had ever heard from her almost knocked him off his feet. Was the girl refusing his suit before he had even asked for her hand? The very thought boggled his mind.

“Would you please kiss me, Lord Waverly?”

Certain that he had not heard correctly, Lucien asked, “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” she said softly. “Please don’t make me repeat myself.”

He could not conceal the incredulousness in his voice. “You wish for me to kiss you?”

“Yes.”

Lucien cleared his throat. “May I ask why?”

She gave him a funny little look, as if she had proven her point. “If you have to ask why, then it is evident that you have no desire to kiss me.”

At her words, Lucien suddenly leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, catching her somewhat off guard. He held her close for a moment, feeling the softness of her body. There was no rush of feeling, no overwhelming passion possessing his body. He was in complete and utter control. Oh yes, he would be quite safe with Faith Bromleigh. Not a doubt about it.

When he released her, she took a little step back from him. Lucien stood straight and smiled at her, expecting her to be swept off her feet.

“Well,” she said matter-of-factly, biting her lip. “It’s just as I feared.”

Confused, Lucien stared at her. She did not seem the slightest bit flustered by his kiss.

“That was nice enough,” she continued, her expression serious, her brows drawn together. “But it had none of the magical feelings I would expect to have when kissing my future husband.”

Left speechless, Lucien was dumbfounded by this unassuming young woman. No, he had not felt that wild flood of desire when kissing Faith, nor had he expected to experience that with her. But he never imagined that
she
would not feel desire for
him
.

“I should have felt something. Don’t you agree?” she asked, tilting her head up to look at him.

“I suppose I do,” he admitted reluctantly.

She shook her head slightly. “No, there was nothing special in that kiss. Do you believe it is possible that such a feeling might grow to be there between us?”

“I don’t know,” he stated, feeling quite foolish. He had never been attracted to her, but never suspected that it especially mattered to
her
. Apparently it did.

“Lord Waverly, I am not a horse to be bought at auction,” Faith declared fervently. “I have feelings and thoughts of my own. Before we pursue this relationship any further, I believe we should be honest with each other.”

“Yes…” He waited to hear what she would say next, certain that it would not be something he wanted to hear.

“Perhaps we could give it a little more time?” she asked.

Not sure if he felt a sense of relief or disappointment at her suggestion, Lucien agreed with her. Maybe time could make things better between them. “Yes, I believe that might be a good idea.”

Colette still had not spoken to her mother. Ever since she discovered that the shop had been sold, she and her mother had maintained a cold silence in each other’s presence. Colette had actually been surprised by her mother’s tenacity because she had half expected to see her teary and apologetic when she returned home that first night and had been somewhat disappointed in her mother yet again that she had not expressed some remorse. Naturally the atmosphere in their little house had grown tense and strained, leaving Juliette, Lisette, Paulette, and Yvette caught in the middle of the acrimony between their mother and their sister. Colette continued to stay away from her mother as much as possible by keeping busy in the shop, where Genevieve never ventured.

Colette was satisfied by another day of brisk sales. The books seemed to fly off the shelves lately. Her ladies’ reading circle had grown to over twenty members and had now become weekly meetings filled with quite lively discussions. The stationery and writing supplies she stocked from Mr. Kenworth were selling even better than she had hoped.

After the last of the customers left for the day, she had sent Juliette and Paulette upstairs to have supper. Now she sat quietly at the counter, going over the accounts, and was thrilled to see that she had earned yet another modest profit that week. However, the joy came on a bittersweet wave in the knowledge that she would soon be losing the store.

Sighing heavily, she wondered when the new owner would contact her. Uncle Randall had said the buyer was not in a hurry to take over the store. Although she thought that somewhat odd, the fact that she had more time to make a success of the shop inspired her. Knowing that this might be the only chance she ever had to be in control of a business, as well as her own life, however long or short that time turned out to be, she was determined to leave on a triumphant note just to prove to herself that she could do it. And in spite of almost everyone being against her, the shop was becoming a success. She had attracted far more costumers than her father ever had.

“Colette?”

Her mother stood before her, clutching a shawl around her thin shoulders and leaning on her gilt cane.

“
Maman?”
She could not hide the shock at seeing Genevieve in the bookshop. When Colette had been younger, she recalled a vicious argument between her parents, in which her mother vowed never to set foot in the shop. Immediately after, Genevieve became ill and took to her room, and indeed had not entered the shop again. Until now.

Her mother did not speak at first, but gazed in amazement at the changes Colette had made to the store. She seemed like a small child, staring in wonder. “You have done all this?”

“Yes,” Colette admitted proudly. “With help from the girls.”

“I had no idea…None whatsoever. I never knew. I never dreamed the place could be transformed in such a way.
Je n`aurais jamais imaginé que la librarie puisse être aussi belle…”
Genevieve continued to look around at the attractively organized bookshelves, the charming signs hanging from green ribbons, the inviting arrangement of comfortable furniture, the gleaming glass cabinet full of beautiful paper and expensive writing tools. It was not the same shop at all.

“Did you not ever listen to Paulette and me discussing the changes we were making?”

“I suppose…I did not really pay attention…” Again her mother demonstrated her breathless and dramatic flair by waving her hand in a grand gesture and then placing her hand over her heart. “
C’est tout simplement ravissant, Colette
. Lovely.”

“Thank you. It’s a shame you have waited so long to see it.”

The fleeting smile on her face disappeared. “I know you are angry with me for selling the shop.”

“You did not even consult me about it, Mother.”

“It is not your shop,” Genevieve said with indignation. “It belongs entirely to me, not you.
C’était mon argent.
It was my inheritance, my money, which purchased it. I may do with it what I please.”

The strength in her haughty demeanor surprised Colette, who had not witnessed this side of her mother’s character in years. However, it did not dispel her anger either. “Out of courtesy to me, out of respect for all I have done, for managing every aspect of the business since Father died, I think you could have at least consulted with me about it first.”

“
Non
.” Her mother waved her hand adamantly. “No. You would only have caused a scene. I knew you wished to keep it. However, I did not. I have hated this shop since the day we moved in and I am thrilled to be rid of it.”

After a long pause, Colette asked quietly, “Even though you know it breaks my heart to lose it?”

“It broke my heart to live here, year after year, watching my life pass me by. Your father promised me—” Genevieve stopped in mid-sentence, obviously thinking better of what she had planned to say. “
Ce qui est fait est fait
. That is between your father and me. As it is, I have had to live my life denied of anything I ever wanted and abide by the decisions made by others. Now it is my turn to decide. I am done with this little house, this dreadful bookshop, and this filthy city. I received more than twice what we paid for the shop, and now I wish to leave. With Randall’s help, I have purchased a small house in Brighton and I have instructed your sisters to begin packing. We shall leave in two weeks.”

Colette’s head spun.
Leaving? Two weeks? Brighton? What is Mother thinking?
All this time Colette had been so concerned about losing the shop, she had not given any thought about where they would live. A cottage by the sea sounded vaguely pleasant, but now they had a small house in Brighton. A definite place. Their new home. Her mother planned to take the family away from London.

Colette had lived her entire life above Hamilton’s Book Shoppe. As a little girl she had learned to read and write at her father’s side in the back room of the shop. She and her sisters had played hide-and-go-seek among the bookshelves too many times to count. She loved the scent of paper and ink and leather-bound books. The shop was her home. She did not know if she could survive without it.

“Why Brighton?” Colette managed to ask, her heart in her throat.

Her mother said simply, “I wish to be by the sea and breathe fresh air for a change.”

The woman who had not left the house in years suddenly craved sea air. Colette could not quite believe what she was hearing. “What about the Season?” Colette murmured, her mouth dry. Neither she nor Juliette had secured a marriage yet. Surely her mother did not wish to lose the chance of marrying off two of her daughters?

Genevieve gave her a hard look. “Randall said no one suitable has offered for you, and you have refused the matches he has suggested.”

Colette wanted to protest, but Uncle Randall had spoken the truth. She and Juliette had spurned all the men he had presented to them, albeit they were all horrid and repulsive, but no one else had asked for either of their hands in marriage. They had both failed miserably on that count.

“He feels he has spent enough time and money on you and Juliette,” Genevieve began irately, her French accent becoming more marked as she spoke. “He is frustrated with your progress and he is blaming me for letting you both run wild. Now that he has recovered his losses with a portion of the sale of the building, he washes his hands of both of you. I too am disappointed at your lack of effort in finding a husband. You have squandered a great opportunity in your life, Colette, the gift of a London Season. You had the chance to marry well and reside in luxury for the rest of your life. And what do you do? You throw it all away on this pitiful bookshop, for nothing. I ask you, how will you ever find a suitable husband now?”

Colette hung her head, unwilling to meet Genevieve’s disapproving gaze. The anger she felt with her mother for selling the shop evaporated as a deep shame crept over her. If her mother even suspected what Colette had done with Lucien, she would die of humiliation. And her mother made a good point.

How
would
Colette find a husband now?

Even though Jeffrey Eddington had been more attentive to her of late, it did not mean he had intentions of marrying her, and Colette could not in all good conscience marry him, even if he did ask her. The only man she wanted to marry was determined to marry someone else. And the main reason the man would not marry her was because she ran a business, a business that was no longer hers to oversee. The absurdity of the situation would have made her laugh if she were not so distraught over it.

“If you wish to join us in Brighton, we shall leave two weeks from today on the train.”

“What do you mean, if I wish to join you?” Colette asked in confusion.

“You have made your feelings for me quite clear, so naturally I assumed you would not wish to stay with me. Will you be coming with us?”

Colette grew silent at her mother’s martyrlike stance and wished she did have somewhere else to go. Two weeks. She had only two weeks to do something to change her life. “Of course I will. I could never leave the girls…or you. Besides, where else would I go?”

“You are such an independent woman, I thought perhaps you would find a place for yourself.”

Colette was stunned by her mother’s cold words. “I had no choice but to be independent, Mother. What would have happened to us all had I not been?”

“I would have handled it,” she spat back, stepping closer to the counter where Colette sat.

Colette’s outrage finally broke free. “Such as you did handle it,
Maman
, with fainting and headaches and hiding in your room, while conveniently leaving all the responsibility of caring for this family to me?”

In a sudden move Genevieve reached across the counter and struck Colette across the face with a stinging slap. Shocked and breathless, Colette stared in horror at her mother. In all her life her mother had never struck her. She blinked back tears as Genevieve turned and left the shop without a single word.

Trembling, Colette rubbed her cheek and sat in stunned silence, staring at the glass window facing the front of the store. The blinds had been drawn, but she knew just outside, just beyond that thin pane of glass, the street beckoned. She could walk out that very door and do as she pleased. But how? Where would she go? What would she do? She might be able to obtain a position at another bookshop in town and support herself. The thought of her four sisters tugged at her heart and she knew without a doubt that she could never leave them.

With a forlorn little sigh, she wished she could talk to Lucien. Somehow she felt he would know what to do in this situation. He just had that way about him. He made her feel safe, secure. It was a shame things had changed between them since that night at his house.

Not that she regretted that night at all, not really. Since she had not been raised in a conventional manner, how could she be expected to behave conventionally? She ran a business. She took care of her family. Would she ever find a man who was comfortable with and accepting of her abilities? Would she ever find a man who was willing to marry her knowing she would not change who she was? More than likely not. So why not take her pleasure where she could find it?

And being with Lucien had certainly been a pleasure.

But it was more than that with Lucien. She felt an intense connection with him. She wanted to share her dreams with him. She loved him.

Unaware how much time had passed, she startled when Juliette quietly entered the room. She came right over and sat upon another stool beside Colette.

“She told you about the move to Brighton?” Juliette asked softly, her eyes full of concern.

Colette merely gave a sad nod in answer to her sister’s question.

“She broke the news to us at supper.” Juliette sighed in resignation. “I cannot believe I’m the one to say this, but I think I’m going to miss this old shop after all.”

The comment was ridiculous enough to make Colette smile ruefully. “Whatever shall we do in Brighton?”

Juliette shrugged. “I suspect much the same that we do here, except we can swim in the sea.”

“I had a terrible argument with Mother.”

“I know,” Juliette confessed. At Colette’s questioning glance, Juliette explained, “Paulette was listening at the door and came and told me.”

“I should have known.”

“Are you all right?”

Colette merely nodded.

“Well, at least we have one more ball to attend before we leave. Jeffrey is escorting us both to the Hayvenhursts’ party next week. It might be our last opportunity to meet the men of our dreams before we are forced to leave the city.”

Juliette’s comment was meant sarcastically, but Colette knew it to be true. Chances were good that Lucien would be there. It might very well be her last chance to see him.