Deceive Not My Heart (54 page)

She stopped, remembering how she had felt the morning Claude had told her about meeting Morgan Slade, and then remembering too what had happened to her that night at the governor's residence, she trembled. Morgan noted the movement and aware of just how bestial Ashley could be, he touched her arm. His blue eyes fixed intently on her, he asked softly, "Was I such a boor, sweetheart? I assure you, I didn't mean to be."

Leonie looked at him, her puzzlement clear. "I did not like you, monsieur," she admitted. "I did not think it fair that you should have the dowry that would have meant so much to Saint-Andre... that still means so much to Saint-Andre." Her eyes sparkling with remembered anger, she burst out, "And you were dishonorable even on our wedding night! You tried to force your attentions on me!"

A surge of fury against Ashley shook him, and jealousy flaming through him, Morgan ground out, "And did I succeed?"

Leonie smiled. "No, monsieur, you did not! I held you off with
grand-pere's
dueling pistol. You were very angry." Staring at him, she inquired earnestly, "You do not remember it?"

His fury dying, and conscious of a feeling of relief, of a swift, almost painful stab of joy as his belief in her innocence grew, Morgan shook his head. Glad that there was something he could tell the truth about, he answered her question carefully, "No, I'm afraid I don't remember a bit of it."

Conversation languished after that, and though they rode back to the inn in silence, it was not the same unfriendly silence that had accompanied them on their outward journey.

While the dueling wound explained most of his actions to Leonie, it did nothing to explain her bewildering dismay at the news that he would at last pay her the dowry. She had yearned for the money so desperately, for so long that it was only now that she realized she would gladly, joyously, forget the debt had ever existed, if only Morgan would tell her he loved her and wanted her as his wife. Which was highly unlikely, she admitted miserably. He had never wanted a wife in the first place, so why would he change his mind simply because he realized now that the marriage had indeed taken place?

Morgan was involved with his own thoughts and he didn't notice her introspection as they neared the inn. He had attempted to think through all the implications of Ashley's actions upon the current situation, but the fierce elation he had felt when he could finally acknowledge Leonie's innocence had effectively distracted him. She had been telling the truth, as she knew it, right from the beginning, he mused with growing delight. Over and over again that thought was reverberating through his brain and he was aware of an insane urge to laugh, to shout, to share his burgeoning happiness with the world.

But then a wave of bitter remorse flooded his body as he remembered all the ugly and arrogant accusations he had thrown at her.
What a bloody fool I've been
, he reflected bleakly.
How could I have been so deaf to her honest appeals? So determined not to believe her, when the truth had been right there before me all the time? My God! How could I have forgotten Ashley's trip to America? And now, how to undo the damage?

There were, as Morgan was well aware, no easy answers. And even when Leonie knew the truth and realized that he had been laboring under as great a misapprehension as she had been, could she find it in her heart to forgive him? Could she learn to love him? His mouth twisted in regret—he'd certainly given her no reason to love him!

Chapter 26

A few minutes later, Morgan helped Leonie down from the curricle and escorted her inside the inn to their rooms. The long, two-storied building had once been a private residence. Shiny black shutters hung at the narrow windows; a wide, shady gallery ran across the front of the house, and the plastered brick exterior was an unsullied white from regular coatings of whitewash.

Morgan and Leonie's rooms were on the second floor and had originally been the master suite. The two respectable-sized bedrooms were separated by what the innkeeper extravagantly referred to as a private sitting room. Judging by its tiny, cramped interior Morgan suspected that it had once been a dressing room.

The sitting room was an added comfort not often found in inns and Morgan was satisfied with it. Turning to Leonie though, he asked, "I hope this meets with your approval."

Leonie glanced blankly at the room, too lost in her own unhappy thoughts to pay attention to her surroundings. She nodded, saying, "Oh, yes. It is quite pleasant."
Such stilted words,
she mused wretchedly.
Such a correct reply, when all I want to do is cry aloud that I love you and where we are matters little... if you love me.

Morgan noted the hint of unhappiness about her and mistaking its cause, he asked, "Are you missing Justin? Is that why you look so forlorn?"

Distressed that her misery was so plain, she forced a smile answered with partial honesty, "I do miss him most awfully. Will we be here for any great length?"

It wasn't a question that Morgan could answer easily. Still off balance from the discovery that Ashley had impersonated him—with such complicated results—he hadn't had time yet to think things out. There were so many facets to consider, and beyond his certainty of Leonie's innocence, he had explored none. Frowning a little, he admitted, "I don't know. But I would suspect that it will be some weeks before we return to—" he stopped, his frown increasing, as he found himself viewing a return to Le Petit with an odd reluctance. There was nothing specific that he could put his finger on, but he imagined it was simply that the house had served its purpose as far as he was concerned. Beyond the ill-judged step of becoming engaged to Melinda, he had never thought to tie himself to Natchez and the Bonheur plantation; he had considered living at Le Petit with Leonie merely as a means to an end. Certainly he had never planned for them to live out their lives there. As for Thousand Oaks... He grimaced. No. Thousand Oaks belonged to the past and any pleasure it may have once given him was as dead as his love for Stephanie.

A thoughtful expression on his lean face, he looked across at Leonie and asked carefully, "Have you any particular place you would like to live?"

Her heart sank like a lump of lead, as any hope that he might want to make their marriage work fled. Obviously he meant to send her away as soon as he repaid the dowry. Perhaps sooner, if he could arrange it, she thought miserably. Gathering her flagging spirits and ignoring the ache in the region of her heart, she smiled and said, "It was always my intention to live at Chateau Saint-Andre."

For a long, reflective moment, Morgan turned the idea around in his head. Everything he had learned of the Chateau Saint-Andre was discouraging, but then, it had once been a productive, profitable plantation... and it could be again. Especially, he decided slowly, if he could regain the lost acreage. If he were to invest his own money in it there was no reason why it couldn't provide them with a pleasant living. Besides which, he admitted ruefully, he rather doubted his stubborn beloved would settle for anyplace else. "Very well," he said, "if that's what you want."

Her chin set at a proud angle, Leonie replied, "It is, monsieur. If you will remember, it was to save Saint-Andre that I came to Natchez in the first place."

Morgan made a face. "So it was," he admitted. "Well, since that has been decided," he continued, "I see no reason not to send for Justin and the others. It will take them some time to pack and ready for the journey and by the time they arrive here we should have things settled."

Leonie nodded numbly, wondering if people really did die of broken hearts. Certainly hers was cracking into tiny pieces with every calm, indifferent word Morgan spoke.
How easily he disposes of everything,
she thought painfully.
As if we were unwanted baggage that he is pushing out of his life. But did you expect anything else?
she demanded.
You knew he never wanted to marry you! So why should you be surprised now that he wants you out of his life? Because,
her heart replied wistfully,
there were times when he looked at me or held me in his arms and—and because I love him most dreadfully. Ah, bah!
she scolded herself.
You are a simpleton, Leonie, a gooseheaded simpleton, if you
do
love him!

To Morgan, she asked, "Will you send the message to Le Petit, or shall I?"

"I'll do it," he said. "There will be several other things that must be taken care of too, so if you don't mind, I'll send Saul with the letter rather than entrusting it to the mail."

"As you wish," Leonie returned, her fingers digging into the palms of her hands as she fought to control the urge to burst into tears.

Leonie's subdued mood hadn't escaped Morgan, that and the fact that she seemed to be angry and yet forlorn at the same time. That she had reason to be angry he couldn't deny—from her point of view she had been treated abominably and he was aware that it was going to be no easy task convincing her of his own innocence... or gaining her trust. A feeling of impotent rage swept through him when he thought of Ashley, and bleakly he looked across at Leonie, cursing the trick that fate had played against them. But conscious of the need for time, and hoping to erase the unhappy droop to her lovely mouth, he said with forced cheerfulness, "I'll see to it immediately and in no time at all Justin will be scampering underfoot." Glancing at his watch, he murmured, "And as there are several things I mean to see about this afternoon, if you do not mind, I shall leave you on your own for a few hours."

Leonie shook her head, almost glad to see him leave. She needed a respite from the bittersweet pleasure of his company... and time to consider a future that did not have Morgan Slade in it.

Bidding Leonie a brief good-bye, Morgan quickly left the room and went in search of Litchfield. Finding his manservant unpacking the few valises they had brought with them, Morgan informed Litchfield of what had transpired.

Showing no surprise at all, Litchfield replied sedately, "Of course, Ashley. How stupid of us not to have thought of him." Throwing Morgan a questioning glance, he asked, "Have you told the madame?"

"And have her think I'm mad? Do you honestly think she'd believe me, if I said, 'Oh, by the way, it wasn't me you married, only my cousin masquerading as me?'" His face twisting wryly, he added, "And considering everything, I can't say that I would blame her!"

"Yes, I do see the problem," Litchfield admitted, hanging up a white linen shirt in the tall mahogany wardrobe. Glancing back at Morgan, who had discovered quill and ink and was beginning to compose a letter to Dominic, Litchfield said, "If Ashley married her using
your
name, and forging
your
signature, is she
your
wife? Or his?"

"Mine!"
Morgan shot back before he had time to really consider Litchfield's question. Then he muttered, "I think. I don't know. But," he added, an implacable note in his voice, "it doesn't make any difference. Leonie
will
be my wife."

A few minutes later, the letter to Dominic safely on its way to Le Petit, Morgan was once again driving the curricle into the city. Though he had planned to drive back into the city before Litchfield had raised the disturbing question of Leonie's
real
husband, the need to know that answer made the trip even more imperative.

His first stop was the Beauvais townhouse where he learned to his disappointment that Jason had left the city not two days before, heading for Terre du Coeur. His inquiries about Armand's health brought forth the happy news that the old man was on the mend at the Beauvais plantation and that it was hoped he would return to town once he had regained his strength.

Leaving the townhouse, Morgan drove to the offices of Ramey, Ramey, and Jardin, the firm that had always handled the Slade legal affairs in New Orleans. Over several glasses of fine brandy, Morgan told Monsieur Leon Ramey the tale of Ashley's impersonation. At the end of the story, Morgan stared intently into his brandy and asked, "So, now that you know what happened, what I am almost positive happened... tell me, is Leonie my wife, or not?"

It was silent in the room for several seconds as the older man sat in his overstuffed leather chair and seemed to contemplate the air in front of him. Finally, looking at Morgan's tense features, he said, "He may have impersonated you, he may even have married her under your name, tricked the girl and her grandfather to gain the money, but... it is
Ashley
Slade who is legally her husband."