by Jo Beverley
“I suppose I’m still just upset about Baron Sheffield.” She shifted the topic. “What have you been doing while I was gone?”
Juliette’s expression was not one of total belief, but she obviously had something she wanted to share with her.
“I’ve been disappointing Uncle Randall also. He found me playing cards with Lord Eddington in the drawing room and he just about had an apoplectic fit! Aunt Cecilia wants to take us home immediately.”
Colette shook her head in despair. It would be a miracle if either of them were to come out of this Season with their reputations intact, let alone with husbands.
Chapter Seven
A Male Point of View
A few days later Colette continued to work in the bookshop as evening approached. The books had now all been placed neatly on the shelves, and the signs that Paulette had painted hung from the ceiling held with dark green ribbon. Also, a new sign with “Hamilton’s Book Shoppe” printed in elegant writing hung above the counter. The major changes were now completed. Colette stepped back to admire the place and felt an incredible sense of accomplishment at her progress. The store looked completely different from when her father was alive. A few months ago she had only her ideas. Now the shop was generating much talk in the neighborhood, and people were coming in to take a look for themselves at what the Hamilton girls had done to their father’s shop. They had marveled at the changes and congratulated her.
And, most importantly, they bought books. Her sales had doubled from the month before. Which was still a pitiful amount, but better than nothing. Business was picking up slowly but surely.
Colette arranged a few wooden chairs in a circle as the tinkling of the bells above the door caught her attention.
A thin woman, about thirty, wearing a neat gray bonnet and dress, asked shyly, “Hello. I hope I am not too late. This is when the reading group meets, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” Colette responded with an encouraging smile. Just the day before Colette met the woman, who worked as a governess for a family in Mayfair, and had encouraged her to attend. “Please come in and have a seat, Miss Rutan. I’m so happy you decided to join us.”
The woman nodded and situated herself on one of the chairs that Colette had just arranged. “This is so exciting!” Miss Rutan exclaimed. “I’ve never been part of a reading group before! Thank you for inviting me.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
The door to their quarters upstairs opened and Paulette and Lisette entered the bookshop. Lisette carried a tray with a blue flower–patterned china teapot, creamer, and sugar bowl, and Paulette followed with another tray filled with matching cups and saucers and a plate of cookies.
“We’ve brought some refreshments,” Lisette declared as she efficiently set up a serving area on a table covered with a pretty chintz cloth. “Would you like some tea?” she offered their first guest.
The bells jingled again and Colette greeted two more women, who also took seats in the circle. The taller of the two, Miss Benson, wore a bright yellow scarf around her neck and spectacles, while the shorter one, Mrs. Cornell, clutched a book tightly to her chest.
The Ladies’ Reading Circle had been Colette’s idea, too, knowing that the women would have to buy the books in order to join the group. Paulette had made a sign advertising that Hamilton’s would hold a monthly book discussion group for women. Their first book was Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. A little dark, perhaps, but it was daring and much talked about. And Colette thought it important that they begin with a female author. She had hoped for a larger group, but three women, along with her sisters, was at least enough to start.
The three ladies, Colette, Lisette, Paulette, and a most reluctant Juliette had just begun their discussion of the work when the bells above the door signaled another entrance. Colette turned her head to see Lord Jeffrey Eddington enter the bookshop. He held a copy of Frankenstein in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other. He was grinning mischievously from ear to ear.
“Good evening, ladies,” he said grandly. “Would you mind if I joined you?”
Stunned speechless, Colette stared at him in confusion. Juliette suddenly developed a case of the giggles and laughed surreptitiously into her hand, which was held tightly over her mouth. Paulette and Lisette looked as stunned as the other ladies did.
“Lord Eddington, what on earth are you doing here?” Colette finally managed to ask, after he breezily swept into the room, placed the flowers—a lovely assortment of hyacinth and lily of the valley—on the table, and seated himself upon an empty chair, looking extremely comfortable. He acted as if this were the most ordinary of occurrences, when as far as she knew he had never set foot in Hamilton’s before. Or any bookshop, for that matter!
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to discuss Frankenstein. It’s one of my favorites.” He smiled winningly around the group.
“But, Lord Eddington, this is a women’s discussion group,” Colette explained, wondering why he had suddenly appeared in the bookshop. Judging from the highly satisfied look on Juliette’s face, she must have had something to do with this.
“Yes, I know that, but I thought you might benefit from a male point of view. You don’t mind if I participate, do you, ladies?” He asked so charmingly; Colette watched as each woman, including Paulette, nodded in acquiescence. It was impossible for the man to be denied.
“It would be interesting to have a man’s opinion,” Mrs. Cornell volunteered.
The sight of the matronly Mrs. Cornell batting her eyes at Jeffrey amused Colette. “Juliette?” she questioned her sister with a single word.
“I may have mentioned to Lord Eddington in passing that we were meeting here this evening,” she said, still attempting to suppress the laughter that bubbled within her.
With a serious expression on his handsome face, Lord Eddington questioned the group, assured of his acceptance with the women. “Did you know that Mary Shelley was only nineteen when she wrote this novel?”
Without missing a beat, Paulette jumped right into the discussion. “Yes, and her parents were revolutionaries. That must have had a strong influence on her writing, don’t you agree?”
As the conversation swirled around her, Colette sat back against her chair, helpless to keep Lord Eddington from participating. This was not how she imagined her first book discussion group. She tried to keep up with the dialogue but was disconcerted by Lord Eddington’s strong presence. She never would have suspected him of participating in such a way. What was he doing there? Did he really have feelings for Juliette? Or, even more incredibly, me?
Of course that thought led her thoughts to Lucien Sinclair.
As much as she tried to block that night from her memory, she had not been able to think of anything but their world-altering and seductively sensual kiss. The feel of Lucien’s lips on hers, the caress of his strong hand at her waist, the huskiness of his voice when he whispered her name. And how she had not wanted it to end.
Oh, she was not completely ignorant of the ways of men and women. Years ago she and Juliette had secretly read one of the thick medical textbooks she had found on a dusty shelf in the shop. A Complete Study of the Human Anatomy and All Its Functions by Doctor T. Everett even had pencil sketches to accompany its explanation of sexual intercourse. The two of them had been shocked, appalled, and fascinated by the information the book contained, which really created more questions for them than it answered.
Now Colette had stunned herself with the realization that she might actually want to do what came next.
With Lucien Sinclair.
She wanted to feel his strong male body against hers. And heaven help her, had he taken further liberties with her that evening in the garden, she doubted if she would have had the resolve to stop him. And if she were truly honest with herself, she knew she would have willingly done anything he wanted.
Sleepless nights and tormented dreams had plagued her ever since he had kissed her. She had not seen Lucien since that night and
almost felt relieved. Almost. What would she do when she saw him next? Surely they would meet again. She had been half hoping he would visit the bookshop to see her. But he had not come. So she was left on needles and pins wondering what would happen when they saw each other again.
Suddenly noticing the puzzled looks on her sisters’ faces, she recalled that she was expected to participate in the discussion, and she dragged her thoughts from the seductive Lucien Sinclair and forced herself to focus all her attention on the group. An hour later, after much conversation, debate, and laughter, Miss Benson, Miss Rutan, and Mrs. Cornell declared the group a success and promised to come again next month and more importantly, to bring their friends with them.
“Will you be joining us again next month when we discuss Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, Lord Eddington?” Mrs. Cornell asked him with a flirtatious batting of her eyelashes that astonished Colette.
“I would never pass up an opportunity to spend an evening in the company of such beautiful women.” His good looks and magnetic charm had enraptured the women and left them giggling as they exited the shop.
Now alone with the Hamilton sisters, Lord Eddington commented, “My God, you four girls look remarkably alike.”
“We know,” they all stated in unison.
Lord Eddington laughed in amusement. “There is one sister missing, is there not?”
“Yvette. She’s the youngest, and Mother said she was not old enough to join us. Not that she would understand the discussion anyway, even if she did attend,” Paulette explained with the sophisticated air of a sibling only slightly older yet far superior to her younger sister.
“I would like to meet your youngest sister,” Jeffrey said, still staring at them in amazement, “as well as your mother sometime.”
“Perhaps you will,” Colette said, somewhat confounded by his sudden interest in her family.
Lisette spoke up. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Lord Eddington. You made our first book group discussion quite memorable.”
“I enjoyed it myself. You ladies definitely gave me some ideas to ponder.”
“Come, Paulette, it is past time we went upstairs,” Lisette suggested. “Good night, Lord Eddington.”
“Good night, Miss Hamilton, and Miss Hamilton.”
Giggling at Jeffrey’s teasing, Paulette helped Lisette gather up the remains of the refreshments and headed back upstairs. Colette began to remove the chairs from the circle.
“Here, allow me do that.” Lord Eddington took a chair from Colette’s hands. “Just tell me where you want this. Against the wall?”
Colette nodded as he went to work, then she and Juliette exchanged curious glances.
“You’re not impressing us,” Juliette called to him.
“I’m simply being a gentleman.” He grinned slyly. “I can be one when it suits me.”
Juliette rolled her eyes at him, but admitted grudgingly, “I did not think you would have the nerve to actually join us.”
“How could I possibly turn down an invitation from you, my lovely Juliette? Besides, I wished to take a look at your shop for myself, and what better way is there than to spend the evening with beautiful women?”
“Well, you did lend an air of excitement to our little group,” Colette admitted, surprised by the success of her first literary discussion.
“I thought so, too,” he boasted with a devilish grin. “Excitement is my specialty, you know. Now, ladies, how else can I be of help to you?”
“There is nothing else to be done, but thank you for offering,” Colette replied.
“Well, then, I should be going. Thank you both for a most interesting evening. I rather enjoyed myself more than I thought I would. Shall I see you next at Lady Boswell’s party tomorrow night?”
“I suppose so,” Colette murmured.
As he gathered up his coat and hat, they bid him good-bye and watched as he left. Colette locked the shop door behind him and pulled down the shade.
“Now why do you suppose he came here tonight?” she asked her sister.
Juliette laughed and crossed her arms over her chest. “To prove me wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“At Lord Hutton’s party I made a remark to him that I didn’t think he ever took anything seriously. So when he learned of the book group, he stopped by to show me that he could be serious.”
Pondering this, Colette shook her head. A man like Jeffrey Eddington did not attend a ladies’ literary discussion group without a good cause for motivation. “No, I don’t think that’s it. I think he is a little sweet on you, Juliette, and he’s trying to win you over.”
Juliette laughed outright. “No one tries to win me over! If anything, he’s sweet on you, and he’s trying to win you over!”
Now it was Colette’s turn to laugh. “That’s ridiculous!”
“Is it?” Juliette gave her a knowing look, turned, and made her way upstairs, leaving Colette stunned.
Chapter Eight
Let the Games Begin
Lucien smiled good-naturedly as he laid his cards on the table. Four aces. His friends groaned when they saw his winning poker hand. “And that’s the game.”
“Doesn’t that beat all?” Lord James Buckley complained with a desperate frown. “How do you always manage to win, Waverly?”
“Just born lucky, I guess.” Lucien grinned as he collected his considerable winnings from the center of the table. It wasn’t as if he needed the money. Lucien just liked to play cards and spend time with his friends. Not since his father’s apoplectic sickness began had he hosted a night of cards.
“He gets all the cards and all the women,” Buckley muttered to the others, his thin face narrowed in dissatisfaction. “It’s not fair.”
“Fair enough,” Jeffrey Eddington responded cryptically, collecting the cards from the table. He shuffled them effortlessly and they began another hand.
They had recently learned to play poker, a distinctly American card game, from their friend Harrison Fleming, who had visited New Orleans the year before, and they had been playing it ever since.
“I think Waverly’s luck may have just run out,” Eddington continued, dealing the cards with efficient speed and practiced skill.
“What do you mean?” Thomas Hargrove asked eagerly, puffing on his cigar, the smoke filling Lucien Sinclair’s study with a tangy cloud.
Eddington turned to Lucien and raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to tell them or should I?”
Lucien shrugged, picking up his cards from the table. He honestly didn’t want to discuss the matter, but now that Jeffrey brought it up, he was sure to have no peace until he confessed his plan. “It seems I’m finally going to settle down and choose a bride.”
Buckley and Hargrove’s riotous questions erupted in the smoke-filled room.
“You’re jesting!”
“Why would you do it now?”
“Who is she?”
“Yes, who is the lucky girl?”
Lucien breathed deeply. “I have a young woman in mind and have not asked her yet, but I plan to. I’d like to be married as soon as possible.”
Buckley cried out in surprise, “Good God, man, you can’t mean to leg-shackle yourself so soon!”
“You’re serious, aren’t you, Lucien?” Hargrove questioned, his face full of astonishment.
“Yes, I am.” Lucien left it at that.
“So tell us who she is,” Eddington said with a distinct gleam in his eye.
Lucien offered, “You’ll know when the time comes.”
“He’s being mysterious,” Eddington declared.
Lucien shrugged as the poker game continued, ignoring the continued requests for more information. They would learn it all soon enough. In the meantime, Lucien intended to pursue Lady Faith Bromleigh in the proper manner.
After another two hours, he collected his considerable profits and the game ended for the night. Before Buckley could leave, Lucien discreetly slipped him his winnings.
“This is the last time I will play with you, Buckley. Use this to pay off some of your debts.” Lucien could not bear the grateful look on his friend’s face.
“I can’t take this from you, Lucien,” Buckley mumbled. “I owe you money.”
Yes, Buckley owed him money. A great deal, actually. But Lucien also knew that Buckley was in very deep trouble and in danger of losing his house. He hated to see his friend, whom he had known for years, in such dire straits, even if it was due to his own weakness and poor judgment.
“Stop gambling,” Lucien told Buckley in a tone that left no doubt as to his feelings on the matter. “You can no longer afford it.”
“Thank you. I will pay you back, I swear it.” Looking abashed, Buckley nodded sadly. He did not hesitate as he pocketed the money before he exited the room.
With just Eddington left, Lucien walked to the sideboard and poured them each another glass of fine scotch whisky from a crystal decanter.
“You shouldn’t give him any more money, Lucien,” Jeffrey stated simply, accepting the glass of whisky Lucien handed him.
“You saw that, did you?”
“Yes, and it’s a waste of good cash.”
Lucien sat in the rich brown leather wingchair opposite Jeffrey in front of the fireplace. The orange flames crackled and cast shadows across the room. “I realize I shouldn’t. But I also know he needs it.”
“Don’t misunderstand me, I like Buckley, too, but he owes money all over town. He’s a grown man, for Christ’s sake. He should know better. If he can’t afford to lose, he shouldn’t play. You’re only prolonging the inevitable by helping him out.”
Lucien nodded, knowing that Jeffrey was correct in his assessment of Buckley. Still, Lucien couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Buckley was in for a humiliating downfall one of these days. And more than likely sooner than he expected. Lucien shook his head before taking a sip of the whisky. “Have you been given a new assignment yet?” he asked.
Behind Jeffrey’s indolent and womanizing reputation, there hid a strength of character few would ever suspect him of possessing. For the past few years he had taken on a position with the British government. Aside from Lucien, no one had any idea of Jeffrey’s clandestine work for his country. And Jeffrey wanted it that way.
