Hot Historicals Bundle with An Invitation to Sin, The Naked Baron, When His Kiss Is Wicked, & Mastering the Marquess

by Jo Beverley

  “Will she learn of the situation eventually?” he asked.

  “Yes, but there is nothing she can do to prevent it, and it will only cause her pain to know about it beforehand.”

  Touched by Paulette’s devotion to her sister, Lucien said, “In the meantime, this indecision is causing you some pain as well.”

  She nodded sadly, her sweet face anguished. Her remarkable resemblance to Colette left him disconcerted. He wanted to help her. “Does anyone else know of this? Juliette?”

  “No. No one knows. I only know because I was listening—that is, I overheard my mother and Uncle Randall talking the other afternoon.”

  Recalling the strained and charged emotions at the dinner table when their uncle’s visit was mentioned, Lucien could only imagine what had occurred. He felt oddly concerned by Paulette’s dilemma. “Perhaps if you share this information with me, I could help you decide what to do. Also, I have found that sometimes just telling another person can make you feel better. And as an older and wiser adult, I can give you a more knowledgeable point of view upon which to base your decision.”

  “If I tell you, you must promise me that you won’t go and tell Colette behind my back. You will let me decide what to do?”

  He could tell that she was truly concerned about her sister and wanted his help, but was fearful of confiding in him. Her quandary pulled at his heartstrings. “As a man of honor, I vow to keep your secret. I will only offer my advice to you, which you may use as you see fit. I promise I will leave the final decision up to your discretion.”

  Again, she looked him over as if weighing whether he were trustworthy enough and then glanced around the shop, which fortunately for them was still devoid of customers at that moment. “I shall tell you, then.”

  “I am honored by your confidence in me.”

  Rapidly the words rushed from her mouth, as if she feared she might change her mind before she could tell him. “My mother gave Uncle Randall the deed to sell not just the bookshop but the entire building, and she does not want Colette to know about it until after the sale is completed.”

  Even Lucien, who instantly understood the financial and societal motivations Colette’s mother and uncle would have in selling the building and heartily agreed with them, could not help but grasp the devastating emotional impact such a sale would have upon Colette. And just when it seemed that the bookshop might actually be profitable. Colette would be heartbroken, and indeed, even if she knew about their plans, she could do little to prevent her mother from selling the shop. Mrs. Hamilton and their uncle had made a wise decision in not sharing the information with Colette, for she would surely try to change their minds about selling the building.

  Paulette continued to explain her reasoning to him. “I know it would hurt Colette if they sold the shop, especially without telling her, because she loves it so. I love it too, but Colette lives for it. And it is beginning to make a small profit. But Colette works so hard, too hard. Uncle Randall and my mother think it’s the reason she won’t accept a husband. So maybe it would be good for her to not have the bookshop to distract all her time. Perhaps it would be better for her not to have all of us as a burden.”

  “First of all,” Lucien finally interrupted her, “although I’ve only known her for a short time, I feel I know enough about Colette to tell you that you and your sisters are not a burden to her. She loves you. And she loves this little shop. And yes, I agree, she works entirely too hard, but I think your mother and uncle have only her best interests at heart. If I were you I would keep this information that you were not supposed to be privy to in the first place, to yourself. They are right. Do not tell Colette. If your mother is determined to sell the shop, and it is in her name, then she has every right to do so and there is nothing Colette can do about it.”

  Paulette nodded sadly. “But I feel I should tell her. She’s made so many changes and put so much of herself into this bookshop. I can’t bear to think of how she will feel when she discovers that she has lost it.”

  He patted her hand in comfort. “You’re a very good sister, Paulette.”

  “I don’t feel like one.” She sighed heavily, as if the weight of the world were on her small shoulders.

  “What do you think you shall do?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but you don’t think I should tell her?”

  “No. I believe it would be wiser not to.”

  Once again she nodded thoughtfully. “Most likely.”

  “Yes,” he agreed quietly.

  She finished wrapping his books and he paid for them. As she handed him his change, Paulette’s youthful brow furrowed with worry and she whispered quickly, “You promise you won’t tell Colette?”

  “I promise. I am a man of my word.”

  “I thought you were a rake!” she blurted out, quickly covering her mouth with her hand.

  “Eavesdropping again?” He gave her a knowing look, and from her flushed cheeks he knew he had guessed correctly. “But if you thought me such a scoundrel, why would you confide in me?”

  “Because I like you, and I think you are a fine gentleman, no matter what Juliette says about you,” she declared fervently.

  He laughed loudly at her comment. He definitely had a devoted little friend in Paulette Hamilton.

  Juliette entered the shop then. She immediately took in their conspiratorial stance and their laughter and assumed the worst. With her arms folded across her chest, she eyed them suspiciously. “I heard you say my name and I just know you both are saying dreadful things about me.”

  “Not every conversation is about you, Juliette!” Paulette responded and gazed back at Lucien with serious eyes. “Thank you, Lord Waverly.”

  “I think you may call me Lucien at this point.”

  Her thrilled grin lit up her face and Lucien felt rewarded.

  “What have the two of you been up to?” Juliette asked curiously.

  “I’ve told Paulette my deepest, darkest secrets and she has promised not to tell anyone. Good afternoon, ladies.” Taking his prettily wrapped books, Lucien winked at Paulette, placed his hat on his head, and left the shop, leaving a bewildered Juliette and a smiling Paulette behind.

  As he walked toward his carriage, he lost himself in thought. Colette had put a tremendous amount of work into improving the store, and from personal observation the changes seemed to be profitable. She had expanded business and skillfully promoted the shop to increase sales. For a woman, she had made incredible strides in a short amount of time. Hell, even for a man! He had to admit he was impressed by her remarkable innovations. It would be a shame to see all of her hard work wasted.

  Suddenly it occurred to him what he could do to help, not just Colette but all the Hamilton sisters.

  Although he couldn’t prevent Genevieve Hamilton from selling the building, there was definitely something he could do to make sure Colette did not lose the bookshop. He had the means at his disposal and he could have his solicitor arrange the transaction anonymously. Yes, the more he thought about it, the better his idea seemed. Although he did not dare examine why it was so important to him to help Colette Hamilton.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Biting the Bullet

  Utterly uncomfortable, Lucien sat in the dimly lit drawing room in the home of Lord Cedric Bromleigh. He had just stated his intentions toward Lord Bromleigh’s only daughter, Faith.

  “Quite honestly, I am taken aback by your interest in my daughter,” Lord Cedric Bromleigh said, looking Lucien up and down in confusion. “You are not what we had in mind for her.”

  Not what they had in mind for her? Bloody hell! Lucien knew he was one of the best catches of the year. Most families would be thanking their lucky stars to have their daughter chosen by him. And just who did they expect was going to marry Faith, anyway? She barely opened her mouth and no one took notice of her because she blended into the wallpaper. Which is exactly why Lucien chose her.

  The older man looked down his long nose at Lucien and continu
ed his speech. “Lord Waverly, I’m a typical father in that I love my daughter more than anything on this earth. But I must tell you that I’m not typical in other ways. I allow my daughter to have her own opinions. As for myself, I would be more than happy to have you as my son-in-law. But this is not my decision to make.”

  Lucien bit his tongue. After his drastic decision yesterday to help Colette Hamilton and his questionable motivation for doing so, he needed to be safely wed to Faith Bromleigh as soon as possible. Or at least be engaged to her, before he did anything more impulsive over Colette Hamilton again.

  Before he did something even more dangerous.

  As he sat in the chair across from him, Lord Bromleigh continued, “My daughter is an angel, pure of heart, and as good as gold. Her sweet, obliging nature and unsullied character would make any man proud to call her his wife. Faith knows how to run a home perfectly. She is intelligent and well read. I freely admit, she may not be the finest rose in the garden, but she is special and beautiful nonetheless. I would say she is a daisy. Plainly pretty, hearty, and constant. There will be no thorns from Faith, of that a man can be sure. Now, my fine Lord Waverly, you have a grand estate, a noble lineage, and great wealth. But if you have serious intentions of wedding my cherished and only daughter, you must prove yourself to her first.”

  “Prove myself?” Lucien shook his head in disbelief. He had to prove himself to Faith Bromleigh? Was the man unbalanced? What was there to prove? By all accounts he was handsome, charming, wealthy, and an earl. And would be a marquis when his father passed on. Why wouldn’t she want to marry him?

  “Yes,” Lord Bromleigh explained further. “You have proven yourself to be a good judge of character already by choosing Faith in the first place. Only a very wise man can see past the exterior façade of beauty to the true beauty within a human being’s soul, and I give you credit for being able to discern that Faith would make an admirable marchioness for you. I have no doubt of that. Now I need to know that you are her choice.”

  “Her choice?” Again Lucien echoed Lord Bromleigh.

  He gave Lucien a very serious look before saying, “Unlike most fathers, I do not intend to hand over my most prized possession to a man my daughter has no desire to marry, no matter how lofty his rank or title or how grand his wealth. I need to know that she cares for you, that marrying you is her choice.”

  Suddenly relieved by that bit of news, Lucien relaxed. Well, that was different. He would have no problem on that score! Of course Faith would want to marry him. There were very few women he couldn’t persuade to marry him.

  Lord Bromleigh tilted his head to one side and nodded. “You may court her if she wishes. But I will not force her hand on this issue.”

  “Of course not,” Lucien agreed heartily, more at ease than he had felt a moment ago. “And I have no indication that she would be disinclined to such a match with me. Although I should inform you that I wish to marry her soon. By the end of the summer.”

  “Why is that?” the man asked, his eyebrows narrowed in suspicion. “Why would you rush?”

  “I am sure that you are aware of my father’s illness, but I’ve kept quiet how seriously ill he truly is. I would like him to attend my wedding, but I don’t think he will last much longer…” And I will surely do something I regret with Colette if I don’t get married soon. That temptation motivated him to marry just as much as his father’s illness.

  “Ah, I see.” Lord Bromleigh’s head bobbed up and down. “Yes, that is a very commendable reason, but I would prefer to see you court my daughter steadily and seriously. I wish for her to know you well before she makes the decision. She should be sure you are the one she wants to spend the rest of her life with.”

  Lucien was sorely tempted to walk out and forget the whole thing. To spend months and months courting? To marry a girl who should be thrilled at the chance to marry him, the Earl of Waverly and heir to the Marquisate of Stancliff? The situation was laughable. He had no doubt he could sweep Lady Faith Bromleigh off her feet in an afternoon. Or less. Besides, he hadn’t the heart to sort through wallflowers again. He just wanted the whole issue to be settled as soon as possible.

  “I shall court your daughter. But as soon she agrees to marry me,” Lucien said to Lord Bromleigh, “I must insist that we have a very short engagement. And in the interest of time, I will procure a special license.”

  “I have no objections to a quick and quiet wedding, but again, Lord Waverly, that would be Faith’s decision to make. Women set such a store on weddings. In the meantime, you may only escort my daughter to functions at which I will be present,” Lord Bromleigh stipulated.

  “Of course.”

  “My wife and I shall be attending the opera tomorrow evening with Faith, and you are welcome to join us.”

  “Thank you. I would be honored to join you.”

  “Good luck, and good day to you, Lord Waverly.” Lord Bromleigh shook Lucien’s hand.

  Ignoring the tightening sensation of a noose around his neck, Lucien shook Lord Bromleigh’s bony hand. In two months’ time, the man would be his father-in-law. As Lucien left their house, a strange feeling settled in the pit of his belly.

  He climbed into his waiting carriage and instructed the driver to take him home. When he arrived at Devon House, he went straight into his private study, shutting the door behind him and pouring himself a glass of scotch. Seated at his polished cherry wood desk, he stared out the window, not really seeing the people that walked by outside as his mind warred with his heart.

  He had made the right decision, he told himself over and over. Why didn’t he feel better about it? Ignoring the images of Colette Hamilton that kept intruding on his thoughts, he turned his attention to the stack of letters waiting for him on his desk. Maybe work would take his mind off the hollow feeling welling up inside.

  As he leafed through the letters, he could not concentrate on any of them and gave up, tossing the pile aside in frustration. One letter fell to the floor. He glanced at it and stopped cold. He recognized the handwriting immediately, for he had received a letter from her once already. The feminine script was elegant and dramatic, just as she had been.

  His mother.

  Good God, she had sent him yet another letter. He sighed, his heart heavy with trepidation. What more could she have to say? His hand shook slightly as he broke the wax seal.

  My Dearest Lucien,

  You have not responded to my last letter, which I can only assume means that you do not wish to see me. But I implore you, as your mother, to relent and allow me to visit. I don’t ever expect you to understand or forgive me for what I have done, but please give me this one opportunity to see you. I am aware your father is ill and perhaps has not much time left. Please, Lucien. I must see you both.

  I am, as always, your loving

  Mother

  Unmoving and staring at the words, Lucien clutched the note in his hand. When he had ignored her first missive, he assumed that would let her know that he did not wish to see her and she would not contact him again. Now it seemed he would have to respond to her in some way. His father did not have the strength to see her, of that he was sure. But what if what Jeffrey suggested proved correct? Perhaps seeing his mother again would give his father some small measure of peace before he passed away.

  And what about himself? Did he want to see the woman who abandoned him when he was ten years old? What could she possibly have to say for herself after all that time? How could she justify leaving her husband and son and running off with another man? Did she expect their forgiveness? Their understanding? As far as he was concerned, there was no excuse for her behavior.

  Lucien crumbled her letter in his hand. Taking a clean sheet of paper from the desk drawer, he dipped his pen in the inkwell and began to write.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A Night at the Opera

  As guests filled the theater, Colette sat with Juliette, Jeffrey Eddington, Uncle Randall, and Aunt Cecilia in the private box o
f the Duke of Rathmore. She and Juliette giggled with delight when an invitation had been sent to Uncle Randall requesting that he and his two nieces join the Duke of Rathmore and Lord Eddington at the opera. Unable to turn down a coveted invitation from the powerful and influential duke, Uncle Randall and Aunt Cecilia accepted eagerly, anxious to elevate their social standing. When they arrived at the theater they were a bit disappointed when Lord Jeffrey Eddington begged their forgiveness at the fact that his father had suddenly taken ill, and offered his deepest regrets.

  Even without the duke actually present, Aunt Cecilia still preened ridiculously, giving herself airs with the fact that she at least was sitting in the duke’s private box. She missed the sly wink Jeffrey gave to Colette and Juliette. Juliette could barely suppress her amusement at Jeffrey’s little trick that enabled him to spend an evening at the theater with her and Colette.

  Once again Colette found herself wondering just what Lord Jeffrey Eddington’s intentions were in pursuing them in such a way. In any case, she was content to be out with him for he was such fun, and her uncle could not reprove her for this night at least.

  Colette leaned over the railing to peer at the audience members below, admiring the lovely gowns and fancy attire. The theater overflowed with guests eager to see the latest Italian opera that evening. Elegant lords and ladies tried to appear important and acted as if they truly cared about the opera but were really only there to see and be seen. Heavy matrons and elderly noblemen sat looking bored in their seats. Giddy debutantes, preening in their newest fashions, surreptitiously attempted to flirt with handsome young men under their mothers’ watchful eyes. The chatter reached a fevered pitch but no one was talking about the opera. It was a typical night in London.