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

by Jo Beverley

  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 Col
ette 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.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Will That Be All?

  Lucien entered Hamilton’s Book Shoppe hesitantly, glancing around for Colette. He still had not been able to talk to her privately since that night in his bedroom, but felt safer seeing her at the shop. Since it was almost closing time, he hoped he would have a chance to talk to her privately.

  Seated atop a tall stool behind the counter, Paulette lit up when she saw him and she gave a little wave. “Hello, Lord Waverly! I mean, Lucien.”

  “Good evening, Paulette.” He returned her smile, intrigued by her animated little expression. “Are you minding the store alone again?”

  “Yes.” She nodded proudly, straightening her shoulders. “I’m quite accomplished at it.”

  “Where are your sisters?”

  “Upstairs. Colette will be down in a minute to close up.”

  “I see.” He looked around the shop, still marveling at the incredible changes Colette had made over the weeks. She had truly accomplished so much since the first time he had visited there. Her ability to make her dreams a reality impressed him.

  “Are you here to buy books or to see Colette?” Paulette asked with an arch look.

  The impish gleam in her pretty eyes caused him to smile in spite of himself. He had been fairly caught by a fifteen-year-old. “I confess. I am here for the sole reason of speaking to your sister,” he admitted.

  She grinned knowingly. “I thought as much.”

  “Do you mind if I wait here for her?” He placed his hat on the counter.

  Paulette nodded affirmatively. “I must warn you though, you should hurry, you don’t have much time left before we leave.”

  What was the girl talking about? “Time for what?”

  “Time to ask Colette to marry you.”

  Stunned, Lucien could only stare at her for a moment. “However did you get that idea into your head?”

  “Well, isn’t that why you are here all the time, because you are in love with her?”

  Lucien shook his head in mute silence. Because he was in love with her? He was not in love with Colette!

  Giving him a skeptical look, Paulette uttered with complete confidence, “It’s obvious to me that you are both in love with each other.”

  “Is it, now?” To think he had once believed Paulette to be a highly intelligent and reasonable child. Now she was talking complete nonsense. He was not in love with Colette, nor was Colette in love with him. Was she? Which led him to ask another question, “What do you mean before you leave?”

  “Hasn’t she told you yet? Uncle Randall finally sold the shop and my mother has purchased a house for us in Brighton. We’re moving there soon, so it would be best if you proposed to Colette before we leave.”

  Ignoring her remark about proposing, he asked, “Brighton? Are you all really moving there?” It had never occurred to him that they would leave London.

  She nodded, somewhat sadly. “That’s where our mother wishes to live.”

  He was surprised Colette had not mentioned this to him, but then again, things had not been the same between them since the night at his house. She must be devastated. “Is Colette terribly upset about losing the shop?”

  “Of course she is. I knew she would be. But she is handling it quite well.”

  “Yes,” Lucien mumbled, lost in his thoughts. This was not turning out as he anticipated.


  “Hello.”

  Turning around at the sound of her voice, Lucien faced Colette, looking lovely in a simple dress of dark burgundy, her full breasts outlined temptingly. Her long chocolate-colored hair was pulled loosely back from her face. Lucien found himself aroused just looking at her, amazed at the force of his desire. He took a deep breath. He’d been half expecting her to toss him from the shop on sight; her neutral greeting gave him hope that perhaps the evening might be pleasant after all.

  With a warm smile, he nodded to her. “Good evening.”

  Colette turned to her younger sister, looking at her pointedly. “Run along upstairs, Paulette.”

  Putting up a protest, Paulette began valiantly, “I was just speaking to Lord Waverly and tell—”

  “Go upstairs now, Paulette,” Colette repeated, her voice edged with impatience.

  “Fine,” Paulette muttered with a beleaguered sigh, knowing she was defeated. She slid off the stool on which she had been perched and made her way reluctantly around the counter, bidding them both good night.

  “It was lovely talking with you, Paulette,” Lucien said kindly. “Good night.”

  “And don’t listen at the door!” Colette called after her sister as she reached the staircase.

  “I wouldn’t dream of such a thing!” Paulette cried indignantly with her hands on her hips. With an affronted sigh, she closed the door firmly behind her.

  “Oh, wouldn’t she, though,” Colette retorted as she silently raced back to the door and yanked it wide open. A flabbergasted Paulette jumped guiltily back from where she had been poised to listen.

  “Aha!” Colette pronounced triumphantly. “Now go upstairs!”

  As Lucien laughed out loud, Paulette fled up the steps and Colette closed the door behind her, locking it for good measure. “That should hold her for a while. It’s a terrible habit she has,” she explained as she made her way back to where Lucien had been waiting.

  Still amused by the scene, Lucien had to come to Paulette’s defense, for he had benefited from at least one of her eavesdropping sessions. “Yes, but she has good intentions.”