Karla Darcy - [Sweet Deception Regency 04] (4 page)

With a shout to Jacko in the next room, Leslie tore out the door and along the hallway to the servants' stairway and made her way to the kitchens. She snatched up an apple and a bunch of grapes and winked broadly at Cook, the surprisingly softhearted tyrant of the kitchen. Leslie raced out the door, sniffing happily at the summer air. She pulled off one of the grapes and flipped it expertly into her mouth, relishing the sweet-sour coolness on her dry throat. Cutting through the garden, she rounded the far corner of the maze and slammed full tilt into a solid obstacle. The wind went out of her in a whoosh. She fell backward onto the grass, apples and grapes flying in all directions. Angrily she brushed the hair out of her eyes and looked up into Pax's face, wreathed in a welcoming smile.

Leslie's own mouth widened into a delighted grin as she stared up at her guardian. He looked immense, his muscular figure outlined by the sky. At thirty, Pax was an extremely handsome man. A strength of character etched his finely sculpted features. His unruly black hair still tumbled on his forehead, but there were now wings of white at Pax's temples.

"Not damaged, I trust," he asked extending a suntanned hand to pull his ward upright.

"I'm not some puling babe, crying over every injury," Leslie bristled in annoyance.

"I hadn't realized that fifteen was such an advanced age," Pax drawled.

The Duke stood back, his head cocked in thought as Leslie pulled herself to attention. As always she was slightly nervous at his close scrutiny but could tell by his expression he still saw only a young boy. Her eyes widened in amazement as Pax took out a quizzing glass and holding it by the black ribbon, raised it with a haughty air.

"Oh, Pax. Never say you've taken to a dandy glass." Leslie snorted disgustedly. "You must be bamming me."

"A little more respect for your elders, brat. Let's have a look at you."

Pax peered through the glass, impressed by the air of refinement in the boy's clothes and carriage. He smiled, remembering the bedraggled figure who had arrived from India. There was a bloom of health on the boy's cheeks, although the child apparently had not had any significant growth spurt. Leslie was small-boned and lightly muscled, his head coming up only to Pax's shoulder. Five-three at the most, Pax thought, frowning in concentration. Probably a late bloomer. This year the boy ought to be filling out and shooting up. Tapping the quizzing glass on the edge of his chin, Pax smiled down at Leslie.

"I've had good reports from your tutors. Grantham in particular says you're doing extremely well in the classics, although he thinks you might apply yourself more in math and Latin."

"Rubbish, Pax. The old graybeard always needs something to carp about. Says I'm too puffed up with my own consequence from always getting my way."

"A good school would be just the ticket."

"Give over, do. You know I won't go." Leslie kicked nervously at a clump of grass, feeling her guardian's censorious eye.

"You should have given Eton a chance, lad. It's a good school and you would have found plenty of friends to get up to every rig and row with." As Leslie's head remained stubbornly bent, Pax patted the lad's shoulder in a comradely spirit until troubled blue eyes lifted to his own.

"Even if you were away a lot, Pax, it was a shabby trick to ship me off." Leslie's face was serious as she stared up at her guardian. "At least without asking me. It would have saved everybody a jot of trouble because I would have told you right off I wouldn't go."

"I thought at the time it was for the best," Pax mused, leading the boy along the path toward the center of the garden. "You never did tell me how the devil's henchmen got you out of the school."

"Jacko and Manji?" She was surprised her guardian knew her friends had helped free her when she had been summarily shipped off to Eton. Glancing up at Pax through a fringe of eyelashes, she noticed the crooked grin and twinkling eyes. "Wish you could have been there. It was a heavenly lark. I wound a rope around my waist under my clothes. Couldn't risk anyone finding it in my trunks. Then, after dark, I just lowered myself from the window. Manji and Jacko were waiting for me."

Pax laughed as he recalled the excoriating letter he had received from the irate headmaster. The words incorrigible, defiant, rude and arrogant had been underlined several times. "The letter from Dr. Grumadge included the note you left. He seems to have taken particular umbrage at your misspelling of tyrannical institution. He didn't mention the rope."

"That was the best part, Pax. He didn't know about the rope. I used that fancy slipknot you showed me, and the rope fell right down at my feet."

The Duke threw back his head, laughing heartily at Leslie's unrepentant explanation. Although he really thought the child would have been better off with a more formal education, he found it difficult to go against the boy's obvious distaste for a boarding school. A distempered whim perhaps, but his ward seemed to have flourished under the care of his various tutors. Since arriving at Windhaven, Leslie had asked for so little that Pax found it difficult to gainsay anything the boy set his heart on. Or in this case, against.

The Duke's eyes were warm with approval as they took in the cheeky grin of his ward. Leslie was a lad to be proud of, Pax thought. He was good company, with a quick wit and ready tongue. It was too bad they were not the same age; they would likely have been boon companions.

"There you are, Pax." The piercingly sweet voice of Cecily Cleavon broke into the camaraderie of the two figures.

"Good morning, Cecily. What brings you out at such an early hour?" Pax responded easily.

Leslie grimaced as the mincing blond floated lightly over the graveled path. Even from several feet away you could smell the chit. Lilac and musk were surely a nasty combination, Leslie grumbled irritably. Mindful of Jacko's words, she searched her guardian's face but saw no die-away, languishing airs that might be an indication Pax was in love with the wench. Turning to glower at the advancing woman, Leslie tried to view her objectively.

Cecily's little hands fluttered in a pair of lacy mittens as she beamed up into Pax's face. Gay ribbons spilled from a straw bonnet that perched atop ringlets gathered into a knot above each ear. Soft pink muslin floated around Cecily's petite figure, giving her a disarming air of fragility.

At first glance Cecily appeared to be in the first bloom of youth. But on closer examination it came as a surprise that the young woman was at least twenty-five. The petite blonde’s hands moved in quick fluttering movements that gave her a doll-like appearance. The artful play of lashes from wide hazel eyes added to this illusion. Though Pax might be taken in, Leslie herself was not fooled. She had seen the sharp steely glances when Cecily thought she was unobserved.

"It was such a lovely day I couldn't resist a walk in the garden. But I've worn my poor slippers to rags looking for someone to share the experience." She raised her skirts slightly to show a tiny pink slipper, peeping shyly from beneath ruffled petticoats.

Leslie snorted in derision, earning a glare from Cecily and an arched inquiring eyebrow from her guardian. Dropping behind the couple she scuffed her boots in the gravel as Cecily's words floated back to her.

"Now, Pax, you know little boys never appreciate flowers and such." Coyly she placed her mittened hand on the sleeve of Pax's jacket, leaning against his side as she skipped along the path. "Your flowers are so lovely even this early in the year. I swear I could happily spend my entire life sitting surrounded by all this beauty."

Leslie smiled, picturing Cecily sitting in a barren winter garden, muffled in shawls as the snow drifted around her. She could envision birds nesting in her bonnet in the spring, and the gardeners digging furrows around her slippered feet in the summer. No image readily appeared for autumn but she'd be bound to think of something eventually.

The awkward threesome wandered leisurely among the formal flowerbeds. When they reached the central fountain, Leslie flopped down on the side. Morosely she stared into the water, rolling her eyes as Pax carefully wiped the edge of the stones clean enough for Cecily's exacting standards. Cautiously Cecily sat down, arranging her dress to best advantage.

Leslie, still annoyed at the woman's intrusion, stared sullenly into the fountain pool. The rhythmic sound of falling water mesmerized her, and her eyes followed the flashes of gold amid the lily pads. Sliding her fingers into the water, Leslie kept her hand motionless as the goldfish swam around it in curiosity. She listened with little interest as Cecily regaled Pax with town gossip. Only when the costume ball was mentioned, did Leslie enter the conversation.

"I found the most perfect costume for the ball, Pax. You won't recognize me when you see me," Leslie enthused.

"I was not aware that you were to attend, halfling." Pax's voice did not sound disapproving, so Leslie took heart. "It's rather late at night for you to be up to your tricks."

"Aw, Pax. You don't want to keep me in leading strings forever. It's time I went to grown up parties." Leslie kept her voice carefully controlled, devoid of any hint of pleading.

"I suppose it is time you developed a little town bronze. And here, where I can keep an eye on you, would be a good place to start. If you can show a little conduct---"

Cecily's shrill voice interrupted, and she flashed a look of calculation at the Duke. "The child would have such fun at a costume party, Pax. Everything's so lively and carefree. And with the freer atmosphere, the boy would not have so many rules of etiquette to follow. Of course, you'd have to warn him to beware of anyone who was foxed. I'm sure no one would bother the lad," she drawled innocently, shooting a malicious glance that only Leslie could see.

A frown gathered on Pax's face, and Leslie knew her chances were sunk beyond repair. Her guardian had always been over-protective, as though her size was an indication of her ability. Perhaps it was because Pax was so seldom around young boys that he forgot that fifteen was almost a man. Cecily, the spiteful cat, had chosen her words well to elicit a refusal. Leaning further over the fountain Leslie spread her fingers and scooped a goldfish out of the water, sending it flying over her shoulder. The fish landed safely in a nest of pink muslin.

"Oh! Oh!" Cecily shrieked, flapping her skirts wildly to dislodge the fish. "Get this dreadful thing off me!"

"Leslie!" Pax roared.

 "Terribly sorry, Cecily. I thought I could catch it myself," Leslie said, turning ingenuous eyes to the hysterical young woman. Calmly she leaned over and picked up the offending object, and expertly flipped it back into the water.

"You horrid, nasty boy! Look what you've done to my dress," Cecily spluttered tearfully.

"Such a shame too. Just look how that red ribbon is bleeding all over the skirt." Leslie shook her head in feigned dismay. "Here let me help."

Pulling out a huge white handkerchief, Leslie dabbed ineffectually at the damp material, managing to spread the red dye onto Cecily's white mittens.

"Now you've ruined my gloves, you wretched child," the distraught young woman screamed, her voice shrewish in her anger. "Pax ought to cane you until you've learned proper manners."

"It's not my fault that you're all prinked out in frilly clothes. Why don't you wear something suitable instead of all that flimsy material? It's the dead of spring, you silly chit," Leslie snapped in exasperation.

A heavy hand descended on Leslie's neck. Pax lifted her by the jacket collar and shook her, like a terrier with a rat. His voice was steel under the softly spoken tones. "Enough, brat."

"I was just trying to help," Leslie said innocently to her granite-faced guardian. At the look in his narrowed eyes, she resigned herself to the stiff punishment that lay ahead.

"I suggest, young sir," Pax continued as though she had not spoken, "that you repair to your rooms. It is my observation that you have still some growing up to do before you attend adult parties."

Gathering her tattered dignity around her, Leslie straightened her jacket and then bowed exactingly to Cecily and her guardian. As she stormed through the garden, she missed the Duke's look of amusement as his eyes followed her stalwart little figure.

Chapter Three

"I wish the goldfish had landed in her hair," Leslie muttered, stomping up the stairs to the attic rooms. "It would be lovely to see all those fancy ringlets hanging in her face."

She wove her way through the jumble of old furniture, ancient trunks and general odds and ends until she came to the corner she had designated as her hidey-hole. Pulling the Holland cover off the faded damask sofa, Leslie sank down and stared miserably out the tiny rounded window that overlooked the stables. She pried her Hessians off, letting them drop to the floor with a satisfying thud. Head in hand, she mourned the lost excitement of the masquerade.

Pax had been right to be angry, Leslie acknowledged honestly. She should never have let her temper get out of control. Not that Cecily hadn't deserved it, the malicious cat. But Jacko had always warned her about her temper. He said you could never defeat your enemy with anger.

Although she didn't know why, Leslie had hated Cecily from the woman's first footfall onto the tiled hallways of Windhaven.

She remembered hearing the sound of the carriage as it approached the house that day. She raced down the stairs, her top boots skidding across the marble foyer as Winters opened the heavy double doors. Leslie was just about to hurl herself on Pax when he turned and extended a hand to the ladies climbing the shallow stairs from the carriage sweep. Leslie gaped at the elegant figures mincing their way up the steps. Cecily wore a pink and white confection, frilled and furbelowed; her mouth was drawn into a pouting rosebud. Following her was Lady Cleavon, a drab self-effacing woman, who kept casting surprised glances at her daughter as though amazed that such an enchanting vision could ever have resulted from her marriage to the rotund Lord Cleavon.