French Leave by Maggie MacKeever

Author:Maggie MacKeever [MacKeever, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1988-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Barbary hastened through the massive gate, across the courtyard, and up the narrow stair. Mab would be cross with her for having been gone so long, but it couldn’t be helped. One did not accomplish such revenge as she envisioned in mere seconds. In point of fact, Barbary was still uncertain as to how that revenge would be best accomplished. But she was sure she’d laid the groundwork excellently well.

Mab was nowhere in sight when Barbary entered the studio, and Tibble was asleep in the battered armchair. Barbary did not wake him, but unwrapped her parcel and helped herself to a generous portion of sausage and cheese. She wished she could have purchased something more exotic from the tiny food shop. Conor no doubt dined regularly at elegant Parisian restaurants where candlelight caressed marble tables and thick carpets and gilded mirrors, while Barbary’s own food tasted like sawdust in her mouth.

Curse the man! He would think about her, that was certain. Perhaps he would notice that she’d taken some of the coins which he’d left lying on the double-topped table near the gondola bed.

Barbary licked crumbs from her fingers. She was turning into a thief. Had Lord Grafton realized where he left his pocket watch? Had his fiancée noticed its absence? If so, what tale had he made up? Barbary wished she could have heard it. She would not have given his lordship high marks for inventiveness.

This disloyal reflection startled her. How could she think so little of a man she had loved? Misfortune and heartbreak must have turned her cold and callous. It was a great shame. Despite this sad reflection, Barbary was in better spirits than she had been for some time, due to the excellent progress of her planned revenge. Her hunger satisfied, she crossed the room to look at the Duc. How innocent men looked when they were sleeping. Conor had been the same.

Barbary sat down on a chair near the divan. What were they to do about the Duc? Perhaps a letter to the Duc’s worried friends. A letter telling them—what? That he’d been called away on urgent business? That he had eloped? Barbary wondered if Mab knew the Duc’s address. If he had a wife. Most gentlemen did have wives, especially gentlemen so handsome as the Duc must be when conscious and well. Barbary was put in mind of Lord Byron’s Childe Harold, a debauched young nobleman, world-weary survivor of many love affairs and riotous nights.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.