by Jo Beverley
She was truly a stunning woman. With her hair pulled back from her face and dressed in a businesslike shopkeeper’s attire, she was even more seductive than in the low-cut ball gown she wore the other night. Her high-necked dress only made him want to strip it off her, while loosening her long dark hair from its tight constraints and watching it tumble in silky waves to her waist. He wanted to crush her to him and…
“Mother, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Lord Waverly. Lord Waverly, this is my mother, Genevieve Hamilton.”
Lucien shook himself from his indecent thoughts of Colette as he stepped forward into a warm and inviting room to meet Colette’s mother. She seemed a frail woman and by all appearances, a neglected beauty. He immediately sensed a profound unhappiness within her as she gazed up at him from her place on the divan with the saddest eyes he had ever seen.
“Good evening, Lord Waverly. Thank you for joining us, but you must excuse our simple meal, since we were not expecting guests this evening.” Her voice held the trace of a French accent and she gave Paulette a meaningful look, as if to say she did not approve of unexpected visitors being asked to dinner.
Lucien smiled charmingly at her. “Thank you for having me, Mrs. Hamilton, but I could hardly refuse an invitation to dine with such lovely ladies. And if I may be so bold, it is quite apparent that your daughters inherited their beauty from their mother.”
A smile lit her face, and for an instant Lucien could clearly see the beautiful woman she had been in her younger days. “Ah, you are a rogue, are you not, Lord Waverly? Tu es bien le plus beau, Monsieur le Comte,” she asked, somewhat flirtatiously.
“Oh, he’s worse than that, Maman,” Juliette declared boldly from the small dining room. “He’s a gentleman!”
Lucien turned to her. “Good evening, Miss Juliette. How lovely to see you again.” His tone clearly stated the opposite.
She laughed, sticking her tongue out at him.
“Juliette Sara! Tiens toi bien. Ne me fais pas honte!” Immediately Genevieve scolded her daughter. “Behave yourself! Lord Waverly will think you are ill-mannered.”
Juliette flashed him a wicked grin. “He already knows that, don’t you, my lord?”
Placing a gentle hand upon Lucien’s arm, Colette interrupted them, preventing Lucien from flinging a deserved retort back at Juliette and requiring him to focus his attention back to Colette.
“I don’t believe you have met my sister Lisette.”
Another Hamilton sister stood in the doorway to the kitchen. Again Lisette possessed the same facial structure as her sisters, yet there was more of an innate sweetness about her than the others had. She smiled shyly at him, her eyes full of friendly warmth. At least this one wouldn’t be throwing daggers at him.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Lisette.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you also,” she answered. “I hope you like roasted chicken, for that is what we are having for supper.”
“If that is what smells so delicious,” Lucien said, suddenly aware of the grumbling of his stomach, “then I am surely in for a treat this evening.”
Colette continued the introductions, presenting yet another sister to him. “And this is the baby, Yvette.”
“I’m not a baby,” the youngest of the Hamilton sisters protested indignantly. “I’m thirteen!”
A smaller version of Colette, but with blond hair in long braids, stood before him. Yvette, too, would be a stunningly beautiful woman. Lucien could not help comparing all of them to Colette. In his mind, she was the original. The other sisters were all copies.
Yvette curtsied elegantly for him, stating with a dignified air, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lord.”
He took her tiny hand in his, making a grand fuss over her. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Yvette. It’s an honor to make the acquaintance of such a lovely young lady.”
Yvette preened and swished the skirts of her pink and white striped dress.
Paulette rolled her eyes at her little sister’s antics and took Lucien by the arm, dragging him toward the small dining room. “Lord Waverly, you can sit at the head of the table,” she declared possessively, “right next to me.”
Undoubtedly, Lucien had won over a devoted admirer in little Paulette.
As he stood at the head of the table, it occurred to him that this was most likely their father’s place, and a disconcerting twinge of melancholy pinched at his heart. But then a flurry of movement surrounded him as the girls each took on a responsibility. Lisette and Colette helped their mother from the divan to her seat at the opposite end of the table, while Juliette, Paulette, and Yvette scurried to bring steaming dishes of chicken, roasted potatoes, and fresh bread to the table.
Feeling rather useless, Lucien again wondered dazedly what he was doing there in this house with these six women. He really had no business being there at all. But there was no help for it now. In for a penny, in for a pound, as the old expression went.
When all the ladies were seated, Lucien took his seat. With Colette to his right and Paulette to his left, he was well situated and surprisingly more comfortable in this female gathering than he would have ever imagined. Yvette said a short prayer of grace and the food was served and passed around without preamble. He had never been a part of such a simple, homey meal in his life, with not a single servant in sight. Lisette popped up to the kitchen now and then to get more of something, but everyone just helped themselves. And the food tasted even more delicious than it had smelled.
“Monsieur le Comte, Colette has been rather reticent with the details on how you two met. Would you please enlighten me on how you happened to befriend my daughter?” Genevieve asked while moving the food around on her plate with her fork, but barely eating a bite.
Lucien found six pairs of eyes in varying shades of blue staring at him. They were an amazing family and he felt somewhat beguiled by them. Here in their small rooms above a London bookshop they had created a haven in which he felt unexpectedly at home.
“I had the good fortune of meeting your daughter one day in the shop while buying some books for my father, and then we became reacquainted at Lady Hayvenhurst’s ball, where I was introduced to Juliette as well.” He turned to Colette with a knowing smile. “And we seem to keep running into each other. We most recently met again in the garden at Lord Hutton’s.” He could not help but notice that Colette blushed at his secret reference to their kiss. He had wanted to see if he could get a reaction out of her and was pleased to see that he had.
“Do you know Lord Eddington?” Paulette asked him, her sweet face full of curiosity.
“Yes, he’s a very good friend of mine. Have you met him?”
“Yes, he is a member of our ladies’ reading circle.”
Lucien almost choked on the mouthful of wine he had just taken. “Is he now?” How very interesting. Jeffrey had only mentioned visiting the bookshop. The thought of Jeffrey as a member of some sort of reading group was ridiculous! What was he up to? And just which sister was he after?
Paulette explained animatedly, “Yes. At first the reading circle was supposed to be just women, but we all voted unanimously to keep Lord Eddington in our group.”
Yes, Lucien just bet it was unanimous where Jeffrey was concerned.
“He’s a remarkable man and very knowledgeable about literature,” Juliette said without glancing up from her plate.
“I had no idea,” Lucien remarked sardonically, detecting a suppressed smile on Juliette’s face.
“Yes,” Colette added, nodding. “Lord Eddington brought some valuable insight to our discussion.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters, Lord Waverly?” little Yvette asked, looking at him with wide eyes.
“No,” Lucien responded to her question. When he was growing up he had always wished for a brother or a sister. “I am an only child.”
“I cannot even imagine not having siblings,” Lisette marveled.
“I imagine it all the time,�
� Juliette commented dryly.
“Oh, you do not!” the other four cried in protest at her remark, causing Lucien to laugh at their demonstration of family togetherness.
“All right, all right,” Juliette conceded, placing her hands up in defeat. “Having four sisters is the joy of my life. Let’s change the subject, shall we?”
“Yes, let’s,” Colette agreed readily, but her eyes were merry.
After a pause, Lucien volunteered a question. “Mrs. Hamilton, have you named all your daughters with the ‘-ette’ ending on purpose?”
Genevieve smiled lightly. “Oui, mais bien sûr, I did not know at the time that I would have five daughters. Although once I started, how could I not continue, eh, monsieur? I just wanted them to have something in common to unite them. I gave them French names, but their middle names are English.”
Lucien turned to Colette with an inquiring look.
She responded, “Elizabeth.”
Juliette said, “Sara.”
Lisette stated, “Annabelle.”
Paulette said, “Victoria.”
With a proud little nod Yvette added, “Katherine.”
“Well, they are all lovely names for very lovely ladies,” Lucien said, enchanted by this charming little family of women. Something about them touched him.
“Oh, Lisette, tell what happened to you today!” Yvette squealed with excitement. “We’ve been waiting for everyone to come home to share the news.”
Lisette blushed prettily and shook her head with a shy glance. “No, Yvette, not now, we have an important guest.”
“He’s not a guest, he’s just a man!” Juliette declared with a challenging look toward Lucien. “Tell us what happened.”
“Tu peux nous le dire. Tout ira bien, ma chérie. You can tell us, Lisette. It will be fine,” Genevieve encouraged her with a faint smile.
Lisette again protested, but before she could utter a single word, Yvette called out, “Henry Brooks finally asked her to go to the Willoughbys’ tea dance next week!”
Amid a chorus of squeals of excitement and shouts of congratulations, Lucien looked to Colette. “I gather this was a long-anticipated occurrence?”
“Yes.” Colette nodded, the happiness for her sister evident in her expression. “We’ve all known Henry Brooks for years, and he and Lisette have had feelings for each other for almost as long. We’ve just been waiting for Henry to make the first move. And it seems he finally has!”
“I see.” Being privy to a scene of intimate family life he had never experienced before, Lucien felt he belonged. The feeling of being part of a loving family was so unfamiliar to him, yet he found himself irresistibly drawn in by them, fascinated. As the commotion died down, Lucien offered his best wishes to Lisette. “Henry Brooks is an extremely lucky fellow.”
“Thank you, Lord Waverly,” she said with a shy glance in his direction.
“I received a letter from Christina Dunbar today,” Juliette said with more enthusiasm than Lucien had witnessed before in her. “She arrived in the United States and absolutely adores living there. She said that New York City is the most exciting place in the world, and that I would love it as much as she does.”
“Christina is a dear friend of Juliette’s,” Colette explained for Lucien’s benefit. “She’s newly married to an American gentleman.”
Juliette’s eyes sparkled. “She invited me to visit her.”
“You are not going to New York, Juliette!” Genevieve exclaimed with a vehement shake of her gray-haired head.
“Why can’t I?” Juliette challenged her mother, her face full of youthful determination. “It’s not as if I’m asking to go to Africa or India, for heaven’s sake!”
Genevieve gave her daughter a certain look that said in no uncertain terms that she would not engage in such a discussion with her at that moment.
Ignoring her mother, Juliette immediately turned to Lucien. “Have you ever been to New York, Lord Waverly?”
“No, I haven’t, but I too have a good friend who lives there.”
“I shall go there someday,” Juliette declared, her eyes flashing, defying her mother.
“And just how do you think you are going to manage that?” Paulette scoffed at her.
“I don’t know yet, but mark my words, one day I will!” Juliette’s statement left them all quiet.
Attempting to lighten the mood, Colette asked, “Did anything else interesting happen to anyone today?”
“No,” Paulette said slowly with a pointed look at Colette, “but Uncle Randall stopped by earlier.”
Lucien knew he did not imagine the pall that immediately fell over the table at the mention of their uncle. Genevieve’s face blanched, if it were possible for her to become any paler. Lucien had only met Randall Hamilton on a few occasions and had no particular liking for the fellow. Apparently, neither did his five nieces.
“What did Uncle Randall want, Maman?” Colette asked, her brow furrowed in concern.
“J’ai très mal à la tête. I have a terrible headache,” Genevieve whispered, her voice thin. “Lisette, help me to my room. Excusez moi, s’il vous plaît.”
“Why didn’t you mention Uncle Randall was here?” Colette persisted in asking. “What did he want?”
“He…he wanted to update me on your progress this Season,” Genevieve managed to say as Lisette helped her to her feet. She leaned on her cane and began to shuffle from the table.
Colette glanced hurriedly at Juliette, then back at her mother. “But what did he say?”
“He said that you are both misbehaving,” Genevieve admonished with more vigor than Lucien had thought her capable of. “Tu ne te trouveras jamais de mari à ce train là. Je ne veux pas en parler avec toi maintenant. You need to listen to your aunt Cecilia and uncle Randall’s advice. I shall speak no more of it in front of our guest. Bonsoir, Monsieur le Comte. Good evening.”
Both Colette and Juliette stared mutely at their plates, their heads down. Lucien would have laughed at seeing Juliette so chastised, but he did not care for the worried and anxious expression on Colette’s face. He rose to his feet to assist Lisette with her mother. Genevieve gratefully accepted his help, thanking him, as they both escorted her to her bedroom.
He returned to the dining room and the girls still sat speechless. Lisette followed close behind him.
“I suppose I should be going now,” Lucien said to the subdued group still seated at the table.
“Oh, no, Lord Waverly, I’ve made a lovely apple tart for dessert! You must stay and have some!” Lisette pleaded. “We would be terribly disappointed if you left now.”
“Yes, please stay!” Yvette and Paulette echoed.
Juliette and Colette remained noticeably silent.
Lucien glanced to Colette in question. She nodded, wishing for him to remain, and he felt oddly relieved that she wanted him there. Without a word, he returned to his place at the table. Lisette abruptly began clearing plates from the table and exited to the kitchen. Yvette followed her lead and began to help.
“Did you hear that Charles Dickens died yesterday?” Paulette blurted out.
“Yes,” Lucien said with interest. “I just read it in today’s Times.”
“What terrible news,” Colette murmured at the loss of the prolific writer.
“We must place all his books on the front shelf, Colette, because everyone will want to buy one now,” Paulette suggested.
“That’s a brilliant idea, Paulette!” Colette exclaimed, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of selling more books.
Within moments the conversation grew animated and the mood lightened.
By the time Lucien finished his delicious apple tart, he had confirmed that although the Hamilton sisters looked alike, they were decidedly different in personality. Sweet Lisette possessed a caring and unassuming manner, but seemed to be the one foremost to comfort the others. Paulette had a thoughtful and intelligent mind and a kind heart. Little Yvette was high-spirited and quick to laugh. Jul
iette, of course, rankled him endlessly, but he had to admit that she had her finer qualities. Even Genevieve Hamilton could be quite charming. The sisters were all endearing and amusing, and somehow they seemed to win him over with their candid honesty and good humor, while their strong sense of camaraderie and devotion to each other fascinated him. The only relationships Lucien had really experienced with women were with his mother, with Lady Virginia Warren, and with the type of pleasure seeking woman who shared his bed.
Never had he met women like the Hamiltons.
And then there was Colette…
Above all she intrigued him. He noted how she cared for her younger sisters. How she patiently tended to her ailing mother. How she worked in the bookshop to support the family. With their father deceased and their mother obviously incapable, Colette, in essence, had taken over the role of parent to the other girls. They all looked to her to make their decisions. But at twenty years old, Colette should be enjoying parties and balls and being courted by suitors.
Ah, but she was being forced to find a husband, wasn’t she?
As much as he hated the idea, it would probably be for the best. A husband would take her away from toiling in the bookshop and would look after her properly. But then what of her sisters if Colette married? He watched the four pretty girls laughing as they cleared the dishes. Any man who took Colette as a wife would undoubtedly undertake the responsibility of her sisters. And their ill mother as well.
And there was her uncle, parading Colette before a lot of ridiculous old fools. None of the men he had seen her dance with were half good enough for her. He made up his mind then and there to introduce Colette, and Juliette as well, to more suitable candidates for a husband.
As he took his leave from the charming Hamilton sisters, Lucien realized he had felt more relaxed and more at home with this little family that evening than he had in a very long time. In fact, he could not recall feeling that way ever, at least not as an adult. Colette walked him to the front door of the house and down the front staircase, which was a different entrance than through the bookshop.
When they reached the bottom landing, he said, “Thank you for a lovely evening.”
