Deceive Not My Heart by Shirlee Busbee Read Free Book Online Page A

admit."
    Some of his anger fading, Claude acknowledged the justice of her remarks, even if he disagreed with the idea of a woman having any control of her future. Unwillingly he confessed, "It is true that I met Monsieur Slade at Governor Gayoso's last night, but he is an honorable man. When he saw that I was—when he noticed that I was in no condition to continue gambling he very properly brought the evening to an end." And thinking to make Leonie view the gentleman more kindly, Claude added, "I was losing rather badly, and because of his intervention, Gayoso holds fewer of my vowels than he would have. You should be grateful to Monsieur Slade."
    One of Leonie's slashing eyebrows shot up and she murmured disgustedly, "I doubt it! He is probably just more clever than Gayoso and means to have you think he is a good man... especially if you mentioned the amount of my dowry. It would tempt many men." Her expressive little face suddenly changing, the rebellion fleeing, and only anxiety and affection in the cat-shaped eyes, she begged, "Please, please, grand-pere, forget this nonsense! Let us take the money and spend it on the Chateau." Desperately she pleaded, "Don't go back to the governor's tonight—you will only drink and lose more money." Her voice urgent, she asked, "How much longer can you expect your vouchers to be respected? Sooner or later, they must be paid." Unable to look at her grandfather's proud features, in a low tone she rushed on, "You know it is only kindness that allows your friends to take your vouchers now—they all know you cannot pay them. What if Gayoso calls them in? And he may... if not this week, then the next or the next." Her eyes meeting his, she finished painfully, "Grand-pere, you simply cannot ignore the disastrous state of our finances and continue to gamble as if we had an unending source of money."
    Leonie was very lovely as she stood before her grandfather, her eyes soft and luminous from the intensity of her emotions, the full mouth an enchanting curve of rose. For once the tawny hair was neatly confined in two shining coils about her small head and the apricot shade of the gown she wore gave her skin an even more golden tone than usual, but despite the charming picture she made, her words went deep, cutting into Claude's heart and pride like razors.
    Shamed, outraged, his pride more damaged than it had ever been in his life, Claude reacted with arrogant fury. His mouth thinned with anger, he snarled, "If you were a man, I'd kill you for that! Mon Dieu, but I would! How dare you speak of things that you know nothing of!" In a voice shaking with rage, he said, "My vowels are accepted everywhere—no one would dare refuse Saint-Andre!" Throwing her a glance, almost of hatred, he snapped, "I will go as I damn well please! No one tells me what to do... and certainly not a female of sixteen!"
    Her heart was filled with compassion and yet Leonie was furious with her grandfather as she watched him stalk from the room. She let out her breath in a long, gusty sigh and flung herself down in a nearby high-back chair. Once the chair had been covered in a glorious, burgundy velvet; now the nap of the material was worn and the color faded, but Leonie enjoyed the softness of the old velvet as she idly ran her hands over the arms of the chair, her thoughts churning distractedly.
    The room showed the same signs of lack of money as did the Chateau Saint-Andre—the carpets, drapes, and furniture, all obviously elegant, expensive items, had been allowed to wear with age. There were only a few rooms of the townhouse that were actually still furnished—Claude having sold off the contents of the others long ago—but this room had always been one of Leonie's favorites. The places on the walls where exquisite paintings had once hung were apparent from the difference in color, but overall it was still a pleasant room, the carpet a warm shade of cream, almost yellow, the chairs of burgundy velvet, and the drapes