contented myself with sneaking down here every now and then to see if you had returned." Almost hesitantly she asked, "Did you get the vowels?"
With an airiness she didn't feel, Leonie replied, "Mais oui! And it was as simple as I told you it would be."
Leonie didn't even stumble over the whopping lie, but there was a hard glitter in the sea-green eyes and a suggestion of strain about the young face. Peering at her closely in the gloomy pre-dawn light, Yvette ventured, "You seem strange.... Are you positive you are all right?"
Leonie snorted. "Bah! You worry overmuch. I am fine, and at least we have the satisfaction of knowing that tonight will not plunge us deeper in debt."
"But how long do you think you can do what you did tonight?" Yvette asked reasonably. "You cannot follow your grand-pere out every night. Nor will you always know who he owes. I think you were very lucky tonight, but... well, you might not be so lucky another time."
Leonie bit back the hysterical choke of laughter that bubbled in her throat. Lucky! If Yvette only knew! But after a few more questions which Leonie answered easily enough, Yvette seemed satisfied with the account of the evening, and a moment later she slipped out the door and disappeared down the hall to her own room.
Thankful, Leonie climbed back into bed, exhausted both physically and mentally from what she had suffered this evening, and the moment her head touched the pillow she fell into a sound sleep. This night, and what had happened this night, would haunt her dreams for years, but for now the arms of Morpheus welcomed her eagerly.
It was well into the afternoon when she woke, and though one part of her was still devastated by what had happened the night before, some of her natural spirit and spunk had returned. Purposely she blocked out the time spent in the strange man's arms and stubbornly refused to think about it. It had happened and it was over, she decided grimly as she bundled the brown gown in a ball and methodically ripped the telltale petticoat to shreds. Stuffing them into a cloth bag, she hurried out a back door and tossed the bag into the pit where refuse from the house was disposed of. If only she could dispose of the memory of what had happened that easily, she thought with a fierce scowl as she walked back to the house.
She went in search of Yvette, her mind busy with the vowels still in her reticule. What should she do with them? Destroy them? She didn't know, but she'd have to make some sort of decision about them soon, she admitted to herself. Their possession, once the theft was discovered, could be dangerous.
As the day passed if Yvette noticed that Leonie seemed oddly silent, she kept the information to herself. But there was something different about her half-sister, that she could tell for certain. Some spark was missing and she wondered, not for the first time, if Leonie had told the truth about what had happened the night before. It was unusual for Leonie not to be flushed with triumph when she had accomplished a task she had set for herself, and Yvette had been frankly surprised that Leonie had not been crowing with elation about her escapade.
Claude had not noticed anything different about his granddaughter when he had spoken with her briefly after he had arisen, not long after Leonie had, but then, that was not unexpected. He had his usual headache and the pain in his head did not sharpen his wits one bit.
But by four o'clock that afternoon he was feeling much better, and, determined to speak with Monsieur Slade while he was sober and before they became involved in another night of gambling, he toddled off to the governor's house. He was stunned at the news of the governor's death, but it must be admitted that his greatest sorrow came when he asked after Monsieur Slade and was told that the young man had left that morning. No, the servant did not know where Monsieur Slade had gone. The only thing he could tell Claude was that a carriage had
With an airiness she didn't feel, Leonie replied, "Mais oui! And it was as simple as I told you it would be."
Leonie didn't even stumble over the whopping lie, but there was a hard glitter in the sea-green eyes and a suggestion of strain about the young face. Peering at her closely in the gloomy pre-dawn light, Yvette ventured, "You seem strange.... Are you positive you are all right?"
Leonie snorted. "Bah! You worry overmuch. I am fine, and at least we have the satisfaction of knowing that tonight will not plunge us deeper in debt."
"But how long do you think you can do what you did tonight?" Yvette asked reasonably. "You cannot follow your grand-pere out every night. Nor will you always know who he owes. I think you were very lucky tonight, but... well, you might not be so lucky another time."
Leonie bit back the hysterical choke of laughter that bubbled in her throat. Lucky! If Yvette only knew! But after a few more questions which Leonie answered easily enough, Yvette seemed satisfied with the account of the evening, and a moment later she slipped out the door and disappeared down the hall to her own room.
Thankful, Leonie climbed back into bed, exhausted both physically and mentally from what she had suffered this evening, and the moment her head touched the pillow she fell into a sound sleep. This night, and what had happened this night, would haunt her dreams for years, but for now the arms of Morpheus welcomed her eagerly.
It was well into the afternoon when she woke, and though one part of her was still devastated by what had happened the night before, some of her natural spirit and spunk had returned. Purposely she blocked out the time spent in the strange man's arms and stubbornly refused to think about it. It had happened and it was over, she decided grimly as she bundled the brown gown in a ball and methodically ripped the telltale petticoat to shreds. Stuffing them into a cloth bag, she hurried out a back door and tossed the bag into the pit where refuse from the house was disposed of. If only she could dispose of the memory of what had happened that easily, she thought with a fierce scowl as she walked back to the house.
She went in search of Yvette, her mind busy with the vowels still in her reticule. What should she do with them? Destroy them? She didn't know, but she'd have to make some sort of decision about them soon, she admitted to herself. Their possession, once the theft was discovered, could be dangerous.
As the day passed if Yvette noticed that Leonie seemed oddly silent, she kept the information to herself. But there was something different about her half-sister, that she could tell for certain. Some spark was missing and she wondered, not for the first time, if Leonie had told the truth about what had happened the night before. It was unusual for Leonie not to be flushed with triumph when she had accomplished a task she had set for herself, and Yvette had been frankly surprised that Leonie had not been crowing with elation about her escapade.
Claude had not noticed anything different about his granddaughter when he had spoken with her briefly after he had arisen, not long after Leonie had, but then, that was not unexpected. He had his usual headache and the pain in his head did not sharpen his wits one bit.
But by four o'clock that afternoon he was feeling much better, and, determined to speak with Monsieur Slade while he was sober and before they became involved in another night of gambling, he toddled off to the governor's house. He was stunned at the news of the governor's death, but it must be admitted that his greatest sorrow came when he asked after Monsieur Slade and was told that the young man had left that morning. No, the servant did not know where Monsieur Slade had gone. The only thing he could tell Claude was that a carriage had
Similar Books
