When His Kiss Is Wicked Read Free Page B

retreated to her bed, acting as an invalid. By the time of little Yvette’s third birthday, Genevieve had become a complete recluse who never left the house or entertained guests. Colette, not sure if her mother’s constant illnesses and injuries were real or imaginary, had been the one to take care of her younger siblings in her mother’s place, as well as the one to help her father with the shop.
    “And when you marry well, it will no longer be necessary for you to have to work in that deplorable bookshop any longer,” Uncle Randall stated with undisguised contempt, his dark eyes narrowing.
    “I don’t mind working in Father’s shop,” Colette said, holding her anger in check by biting her tongue. The bookshop had always been a contentious issue between them.
    Oh, if he would only leave already! Uncle Randall had no idea how much effort Colette had put into the shop, nor did she want him to know just yet. He thought her incapable of making the store a success, simply because she was a woman. His beliefs infuriated her, as most men’s did. Just as that odious Lord Waverly’s had done earlier that afternoon. One day she would show all those superior, smug males just how wrong they were about her.
    “You know how I feel about the Hamilton family being in trade,” Uncle Randall persisted. “It’s quite beneath us. It was embarrassing enough when my brother opened the shop, and now it’s even more humiliating that my nieces are running it. But I shall not delve into a discussion about it with you at this moment, Colette. I haven’t the patience for it tonight, and I’m late for a supper party with the Davenports as it is. Have all your gowns and fripperies been delivered?”
    Colette nodded. “Yes, Uncle Randall. They arrived yesterday.” She had to admit that she loved all the gorgeous new clothes that had been made for her and Juliette to wear during the Season.
    “Good. Your aunt Cecilia and I will be here at seven o’clock on Friday to escort you both to the Hayvenhursts’ ball.” Uncle Randall stared at her with a pointed glare, his balding head tipped menacingly in her direction. “And I’m counting on you, Colette, to keep your sister here in line during the Season.”
    His reference to Juliette annoyed her, for she had no more control over Juliette’s behavior than anyone else did, but Colette nodded in deference to him. She had learned long ago that if he thought she agreed with him, he left her alone. She pretended to agree with him now.
    “Yes, Uncle Randall.”
    “Good, then. I shall be on my way for the evening, ladies. Genevieve.” He nodded to her mother and took his leave after a disapproving look at Juliette.
    “ Dieu merci, il est parti. He has always treated me shabbily, just because I am French.” Genevieve gave a petulant frown when the door to their living quarters above the bookshop closed and they were alone once more. “Now I have a dreadful headache.” She touched her hand to her forehead dramatically and closed her eyes with a heavy sigh.
    “He makes me so angry!” Juliette exclaimed, rising from her chair.
    At nineteen, Juliette was stunning and would no doubt have many offers of marriage during this Season. All the Hamilton sisters were beautiful, or so everyone said. Their beauty was the only reason Uncle Randall was bothering to launch them at all. Colette loved her sister and they were very close, but Juliette could be unexplainably obstinate. If only Juliette would be more accommodating once in a while…She fought against everything so much, often to her own detriment, that at times Colette had given up trying to reason with her.
    “Keep me in line, indeed!” Juliette declared adamantly, stamping her foot, her dark blue eyes flashing. “I don’t even wish to have a Season!”
    “Juliette, you should be grateful to your uncle,” Genevieve admonished in a weary voice from her position on the chaise, not even bothering to open her eyes. “Your father left