When His Kiss Is Wicked (25 page)

She bristled at his criticism. “I wouldn’t quite put it that way.”

Lucien rose from the chair, looming over her. “Well, I would and I have had quite enough of it. I’ll not listen to another word from you. Go home now. And keep your mouth closed and keep yourself out of my business.” He turned and pulled the long cloth-covered cord that rang a bell in the servants’ quarters.

Unfazed by his ire, Juliette stood and eyed him levelly. “What do you intend to do now?”

“That is none of
your
business. Go home, Juliette.” Lucien strode purposefully to the drawing room door and opened it wide, giving her a clear indication that he wished her to walk through it.

“Fine,” she muttered in a bit of a huff, stepping toward the door. She turned back to him before making her exit and added, “Just remember that Jeffrey and I were only trying to make sure you and Colette didn’t ruin your lives.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Oh, yes, you most certainly do!” she cried vehemently.

“Good afternoon, Miss Hamilton,” he said with finality.

“Good afternoon, Lord Waverly.” Her frosty tone left no doubt as to her feelings for him. A footman appeared to escort her to the front door.

With a weary sigh, he shook his head at the strange encounter with Colette’s sister. Just as he had guessed, Juliette Hamilton and Jeffrey Eddington together were a dangerous combination. Between them there existed no sense of caution or common sense. What a mess they had created!

Walking toward the window, he pulled back the long silk drapes and peered out at the cobblestone street below. Rain had begun to fall. People with umbrellas hurried by, going about their daily business, living their own lives, trying not to get drenched in the downpour. He pressed his head against the cool pane of glass streaked with raindrops, sorely tempted to put his fist through it in frustration.

Colette.
Colette.

Lucien did not want to wed Faith Bromleigh and Jeffrey did not want to marry Colette. It should all be so simple. Unfortunately it was not. They said Colette loved him, but Lucien was not quite so sure.

And they all believed that he was in love with her.
Was he?
He had not felt this way when he was wildly in love with Virginia Warren. He felt a thousand times more for Colette than he ever had for Virginia. That should tell him something.

And it did.

His intense feelings for her told him to run as fast as he could from Colette Hamilton.

“Lucien?”

Not turning around at the sound of her now-familiar voice, Lucien stood still and did not immediately answer to the call of his name.

“Lucien, may I come in and speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course, Mother, “he murmured absently, still not facing her, his eyes riveted on the street below and the people walking by, the muffled sound of their footsteps on the wet road.

“I couldn’t help but notice Miss Hamilton leaving. She is the sister of your friend Colette, is she not? The one who reads to your father?”

“Yes.” He finally turned to look at her. His mother. Lenora stood before him, her eyes full of concern and a yearning that he could not define. Lucien had still not grown accustomed to her constant presence in his home.

“Lucien, I know I have not earned the right to be treated as your mother, but I would desperately like for us to be friends.”

“Sit down, Mother. If you wish to have a talk, we might as well be comfortable.” With a resigned sigh, he motioned for her to sit. Then he made his way to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of whisky from the crystal decanter. He took a long gulp.

“You’re drinking so early?”

He did not even acknowledge her.

Lenora took Juliette’s place on the blue sofa and Lucien reluctantly returned to his place on the chair. With his drink still in his hand, he looked at her expectantly.

Lenora wrung her hands in a nervous motion. “You were so young when I left that now I’m not sure how to resume our relationship. You are not a little boy anymore, but you are still my son.”

Good Lord, what did she want from him? Hadn’t she hurt him enough over the years? “What is it that you want, Mother?”

“I…I’m not sure entirely. I suppose I want us to at least be friendly to each other. Your father has forgiven me, and I have forgiven him, which has eased my heart greatly as well as his.” She gazed at him, her fine brows furrowed in sorrow. “But you…I don’t know how to make it up to you, Lucien. How can I atone for deserting you, my own little son, who was innocent of any wrongdoing?”

Lucien remained quiet for some time, lost in memories of his childhood. There were times he wished his mother had simply died. It would have been easier to bear had that been the case. Easier to explain to his friends. Easier to hold his head up. Then he could have cherished her memory instead of being tormented by her absence. At least he would have understood her death as something beyond his control, whereas he had taken her abandonment personally. He had believed he had been the cause of her flight, for what mother would ever leave a child she loved? “Perhaps you could explain to me why you left? As the innocent party, as you say, I think I have a right to know.”

She nodded sadly, her green eyes full of regret and pain. “Yes, I suppose I owe you that much. It’s a complicated story, and even when I look back now I don’t understand why I did what I did, or why your father did what he did for that matter. We were both foolish and stubborn…”

He waited for her to continue, anxious to know what had happened all those years ago to cause her to leave him.

A soft expression came over her face as she spoke. “I fell in love with your father the moment I met him at my coming-out ball when I was eighteen, and I just knew from the first time he held my hand that I wanted him to hold me forever. Simon was charming and handsome and full of life. We married a few months later in a very small, quiet affair. Simon and I were ridiculously happy together and we were over the moon with joy when you were born, Lucien.”

Her look of adoration moved him more than he cared to admit. “Go on.”

“Oh, how we both doted on you! You were an amazing child, Lucien, truly. So sweet and funny, and so smart. You constantly delighted us. Simon and I wanted to have more children, but I had…I could not…I lost…For years we tried but, for some reason…God chose not to bless us with another baby. It was a very stressful and heartbreaking time for me, and your father and I began to have…well…difficulties, shall we say? Because of that he turned to another woman for comfort. Unfortunately that woman was a dear friend of mine. A very dear friend. When I found out, I became incensed. In an attempt to hurt Simon I became involved with Count Acciani, who was in London visiting his sister. Antonio was young and handsome and madly in love with me, so it was easy enough to make Simon jealous with him. Naturally Simon was furious when he discovered me kissing Antonio one night. We fought bitterly. Terribly. Oh, this is not easy to explain, Lucien.”

His mother paused for a moment, unsure if she should continue. With her cheeks flushed pink, her embarrassment was evident.

“Go on, Mother. It’s all right,” he urged her, fascinated by this glimpse into his parents’ past.

“Well…Then a small miracle happened, and I discovered I was going to have a baby. I suppose I had made your father a little too jealous, because he refused to believe the child was his, even though it was. I knew without a doubt it was Simon’s baby, for Antonio and I had not…we had only kissed…well…you understand how I could know such a thing. Simon, in a rage, did not believe me and had me thrown out of Devon House. He refused to let me see you. Oh, what a terrible scene that was!”

Lucien placed the unfinished glass of whisky on the table and stared speechlessly at his mother. He tried to recall when she left, but could not remember a particular night or event. She was just simply gone one day, like the sun disappearing behind a dark cloud. He felt oddly conflicted at her story. Not knowing what to expect when she began her tale, he was certain he had not expected this.

Her voice grew low. “I had no money and nowhere to go, since my own parents had passed away, and your father had turned all our friends against me, painting me in the worst light. Who else could I turn to but the other man who loved me? Antonio, dear sweet Antonio, took me in when no one else would. I was carrying my husband’s child, but no one believed me. Except of course, for Antonio, because he knew the truth. He knew, just as well as I, that it was Simon’s child. He even attempted to tell Simon, but Simon would not believe him. So we fled to Italy. I had no other option. It tore my heart out to leave you and your father, but I had no choice. He would not let me back. I wrote you both, letter after letter, for years. But Simon never responded to me, and obviously he did not allow you to see any of my letters to you. I suppose it was easier for him to let you believe your mother was a heartless creature rather than to explain his own jealous rage and stubborn pride. Oh, Lucien, you have no idea how I cried every day, endless tears, over missing you.”

Reeling from these revelations, Lucien began to feel tendrils of sympathy grow for his mother for the first time in his life. “And the child?” he asked, his throat dry.

Lenora’s eyes became misty. “Oh, I had the child. Simon’s child. A beautiful little girl. I named her Katherine, after my mother. Antonio adored her and treated her as his own daughter. We lived in a small villa in Tuscany and everyone just assumed Antonio was my husband. But he knew I was still legally wed to and in love with my husband. He loved me anyway, and he was good to me.”

Astounded to learn that he had a sister, a little sister who had to be close to Paulette Hamilton’s age, Lucien’s head spun. For the last fifteen years he’d had a sister he knew nothing about. “Where is Katherine now?”

“Last year she and Antonio caught a fever…” Lenora choked on a sob and fumbled for a handkerchief. “I lost both of them within days of each other.”

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, feeling a strange overwhelming sense of loss for the sister he had never known. And somehow, in his mind’s eye, he could not help but picture his sister looking like Paulette Hamilton. “I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t,” she sniffled, dabbing her eyes with her monogrammed handkerchief. “You were too young to know when I left. And all these years, I stayed foolishly hidden. I should have stood my ground with Simon and let him see Katherine for himself. For all that I named her after my mother, she was the spitting image of Simon’s mother. He would not have been able to deny her as his child had he seen her. But I was too afraid he would deny her, too. It was only after I lost Katherine and Antonio that I realized I had nothing to lose by returning to London. And only my son to gain.”

He gazed at his mother as if seeing her for the first time. His heart broke for her.

“I returned to London determined to see you and your father, but once I arrived I was overcome with trepidation. I had no idea what Simon had said to you, and I assumed you hated me. When I learned that your father was ill, it only made me more anxious to see him. And you. But it was you I feared the most. I was long accustomed to Simon shutting me out of his life, but if you shut me out too, I didn’t think I could bear that hurt. That’s why I wrote you first. When you didn’t respond I was devastated. And when I finally received your letter, it gave me a glimmer of hope and I could not wait any longer to see you.”

That day conjured mixed emotions within him, the joy at seeing his mother again and the anger at her for years of desertion.

She continued to wipe her tears as she spoke. “Seeing your father so changed was quite a shock to me. I still pictured him as I did when I left, young and vital. He is so weakened and frail now.”

“He has improved dramatically since you’ve been here,” Lucien stated softly.

“I believe we have come to find a sort of peace between us now. We have been talking about everything that has happened. And I have told him about Katherine, his daughter. Years of pain and regret tend to wear a heart down, making it easier to forgive…” Her voice faltered as she looked at Lucien.

Filled with a profound sadness, Lucien moved to sit beside his mother on the sofa and put his arm around her. He held her awkwardly at first. She felt tiny and fragile. Then she kissed his cheek and hugged him to her in a tight embrace.

“I am so sorry, Lucien,” she gasped with an agonized sob, finally releasing him. “Your father and I have made a such terrible mess of your life.”

“I know now that was never your intention.” Feeling the years of heartbreak and the terrible sadness that had affected each of their lives, he was overwhelmed.

“Can you ever forgive me?” she asked, searching his face with her eyes.

He nodded, unable. “I don’t know. But I feel better at least knowing the truth.”

“Perhaps we can start over? We can at least try to get to know one another again.” Her voice was full of hope.

After spending his life wondering what had happened to her and if she had ever really loved him, a small degree of peace settled within Lucien’s heart at having her with him once again.

“I know you don’t need a mother at your age,” she continued, “but I can try to be a mother to you anyway.”

“I would like that.” He smiled at her, and Lenora began to cry with happiness.

Colette held her hands to her throbbing temples. Good heavens, but her head ached. She had vague memories of the night before and did not care for any of them. She also had the distinct impression that Jeffrey and Juliette had been secretive about something that had to do with her. Try as she might, she could not recall what it was about.

However, she clearly remembered seeing Lucien with Faith Bromleigh on Lady Hayvenhurst’s veranda. Wishing
that
was the image she could not recall, she rubbed her forehead with the pads of her fingertips as she leaned against the counter. She was grateful for the pouring rain outside, if only for the fact that it meant few if any customers would be visiting the shop that day.

“No, Yvette. Don’t put that there,” she called to her sister.

Yvette spun around, her long blond hair pulled back from her face with a wide cherry-colored ribbon that perfectly matched her dark blue dress with vertical red pin stripes. “Oh. Where does it go, then?” she asked, holding the science textbook in her hand.

“If you can climb the ladder, it belongs on the top shelf. Over there in the science section. Do you see?”

Yvette nodded eagerly. “Oh, I can climb up there.”

Her little sister was desperately trying to help her in the shop, something Yvette rarely volunteered to do. Colette had the sinking suspicion that Juliette had put her up to it, for some reason. As Yvette climbed the ladder, Colette folded her arms on the counter and rested her pounding head in them.

She would never drink champagne again for as long as she lived.

Last night had been dreadful.

But not as dreadful as the coming week would be. She did not even know why she bothered having Yvette reshelve the science book, since everything would have to be packed into boxes soon. What difference did it make? They were leaving London and the shop.

She groaned audibly at the thought of the work involved in closing up the bookshop.

“Colette, are you all right?” Yvette yelled from the top of the ladder.

Her sister’s shrill voice almost split Colette’s skull in two. She mumbled a faint yes, her head still buried in her arms. The light jingling of the bells over the door, which sounded like the clanging of the gates of hell, brought forth another moan from Colette as she slowly raised her head to see who entered the shop.

“Oh, it’s you,” she whispered and managed to hold up her head with her hands, her elbows resting on the counter. She could not help but notice the ugly bruise under his eye. “What happened to your face?”

“I’ll explain that later.” Jeffrey shrugged off his wet overcoat and placed it with his hat on the brass hat rack near the door. Turning back to face her, he asked cheerily, “And how are we feeling today?”

His amused smile did not amuse her. “This is all your fault,” she muttered.

“I don’t recall forcing you to drink that much champagne.”

“No, but you started it.”

“Now that I will take credit for.” He laughed at her then, but added sympathetically, “I know it does not feel that way at the moment, but you will feel better again soon.”

“Hello there!”

Jeffrey spun around at the sound of Yvette’s voice. She still stood at the top of the ladder, looking down at them both most curiously.

Jeffrey glanced between Colette and Yvette, blinking in surprise. He said to Colette, “I don’t believe I have met this one yet.”

“This is Yvette. The baby of the family,” Colette whispered wearily.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over how much the five of you girls look alike,” Jeffrey marveled, shaking his head at Colette. “She looks like a miniature version of you with blond hair.”

“And I’m not a baby. I just happen to be the youngest,” Yvette declared from her perch on the ladder.

Jeffrey made his way over to her. “And I am honored to meet you, Miss Yvette. I am Lord Jeffrey Eddington.”

“Oh. So
you’re
Jeffrey Eddington. I’ve heard my sisters talk about you,” Yvette murmured, somewhat in awe. If Colette had not felt so terrible, she might have laughed in amusement at the spellbound expression on Yvette’s face.

“Good things, I hope?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“I think so,” she said hesitantly. “Mostly good things.”

Laughing out loud at the implications of her innocently uttered words, Jeffrey gave Yvette the thrill of her life when he gallantly held out his hand to help her from the ladder. With a smile of adoration on her face, she took his hand and gracefully stepped down the wooden rungs.

“Why thank you, Lord Eddington. It’s so refreshing to meet a true gentleman,” Yvette stated with a touching sincerity that only a thirteen-year-old could show. As if she were the grandest lady in the land, she gave him a proud look.

Jeffrey intuitively sensed how important it was for Yvette to be taken seriously. “I must say it’s refreshing to meet a young lady who can recognize a true gentleman when she meets one.” Releasing her hand, he bowed elegantly.

Jeffrey certainly had a skill for winning women over with his charm, and Colette knew there would be no living with Yvette after this little interlude. The sophisticated airs she would put on for the next few days would be insufferable.

Yvette asked, “How did you get such a terrible bruise?”

“It seems I accidentally stepped on someone’s toes,” he explained vaguely.

The door to the shop flew open, bells clanging wildly, and Juliette rushed in, the sound of the rain splashing in the street suddenly louder until she closed the door with a slam. They turned to look at her.

“Oh, it’s simply dreadful out there! I’m drenched.” And indeed, the hem of her gown was damp past her ankles. Juliette tossed her wet umbrella to the floor with a grimace and glanced up in surprise. “Jeffrey! I didn’t know you were here!” she cried.

“I just had the pleasure of meeting Miss Yvette Hamilton,” Jeffrey announced to her.

“That’s nice,” she murmured distractedly. “Yvette, I need to speak to Colette and Lord Eddington privately.”

“And you wish for me to go upstairs?” Yvette asked with a gracious tone.

“Would you please?”

“Of course. Again, it was an honor meeting you, Lord Eddington,” she said, bowing prettily.

“The honor and the pleasure were all mine. Good afternoon.” Jeffrey beamed at her as she turned and left them in the shop. “She’s quite a little lady, that one, isn’t she?”

“I don’t know how you could keep a straight face with the way you spoke to her, Jeffrey,” Colette murmured before placing her head back down on her arms.

“Because she is an adorable child,” he defended himself. “And your sister.”

“Wake up, Colette. I have something to tell you, and it’s just as well that Jeffrey is here,” Juliette announced as she moved nearer to the counter.

Once again Colette made the tremendous effort to lift her throbbing head. “What?” she asked, noting the guarded glance between Juliette and Jeffrey. “If this is about last night, I don’t believe I have the strength to hear it.”

Juliette sighed heavily. “It’s about more than last night. I think I’ve made a terrible mess of things.”

“What things?” Colette asked in confusion.

Juliette flashed a nervous glance once again at Jeffrey before answering. He shrugged innocently and held up his hands without guilt. Juliette began slowly, “I just came from Devon House.”

Colette felt her pulse quicken at the mention of Lucien’s home. What had Juliette done? Had she spoken to Lucien? The worried expression on her sister’s face caused an uncomfortable unease to spread within her. “What on earth were you doing there?”

“Trying to explain to Lucien that Jeffrey has no intention of marrying you.”

Stunned, Colette stared at Juliette blankly, trying to take in what she said, but her aching head seemed to make no sense of the words. “What did you say?”

Jeffrey spoke up. “Last night I gave Lucien the idea that you and I were going to wed. As you can see,” he pointed to his face, “the idea did not sit well with him.”

“Lucien hit you?” she cried incredulously, her head spinning with their descriptions of the event. She recalled a commotion while on the veranda, and everyone thinking she had fainted. She cringed at the memory. “I don’t understand any of this. And I honestly don’t think I want to hear any more.” With a groan she put her head back down.

“You had better explain it to her from the beginning, Juliette. It’s not fair to confuse her when she’s in such a bad way.” Jeffrey walked toward the counter and began to rub Colette’s back. “Poor girl.”

Juliette came around and sat on the other stool. She leaned in close to Colette and said, “All right, then. I confess that I should have minded my own business and left things to work out for themselves between you and Lucien.”

Colette’s head flew up so fast she almost fell off the stool. With her pounding head and pounding heart, she could barely see straight. What had the two of them been up to? And what did anything have to do with her and Lucien? “Between me and Lucien? There is nothing between me and Lucien!”

“There’s no need to get so upset,” Juliette attempted to soothe her. “We know everything, Colette. We know Lucien bought the bookshop.”

The appalled look on her face must have given them both pause, because they looked remorseful. “What have you done?” Colette whispered.

Hesitating and reluctant to reveal the truth, Juliette began slowly. “We knew that Lucien was making a terrible mistake in marrying Faith Bromleigh when he is so obviously in love with you, and we thought we would help the situation along a little, by making Lucien jealous.”

Jeffrey continued to rub her back. “So I told Lucien last night that I had suggested marriage to you and you agreed.” He smiled wickedly at her and motioned to the marks on his face. “You see how he reacted to the thought of you with another man?”

Feeling nauseous now, Colette wanted to cry. “Are you sure he didn’t simply hit you because you are annoying?”

Jeffrey laughed. “That thought did cross my mind, but as I was lying on Lady Hayvenhurst’s veranda, it occurred to me that in all the years I’ve known Lucien Sinclair, he has never hit me. Not once. Not even when I more than likely deserved to be hit. No, Colette, this reaction could only have been prompted by his feelings for you.”

Colette had no response. She did not know what to say. Did Lucien have feelings for her? Had Lucien truly hit Jeffery out of jealousy over her?

Although she knew Juliette and Jeffrey, sweet Jeffrey, were only trying to help her, their meddling in her affairs made her angry.

“After Lucien hit Jeffrey, I realized perhaps that things had gone too far and I went to speak to Lucien this afternoon,” Juliette confessed.

“Oh, you didn’t!” Colette cried in despair.

Juliette stated tersely, “I did.”

“And just how did
that
go?” Jeffrey asked curiously.

“Not well. He was less than thrilled with our little plan,” Juliette explained. “But I think he will calm down and come to his senses eventually. The good news is that he is
not
going to marry Faith Bromleigh.”

Stunned, Colette stared at them. “He’s not?”

“No, he is not,” Juliette said. “And he told me so himself.”

“There, you see?” Jeffrey added with a grin. “He’s in love with you.”

Too weak to respond, Colette put her head back in her arms.