These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 1)

‘Yes, Monseigneur,’ she whispered, and drooped her curly head.

Avon leaned forward, and put his arm about the childish figure, drawing it close.

‘A very good infant,’ he said lightly. ‘You will learn to be a girl to please me, Léonie.’

She clung to him, her curls tickling his chin.

‘Will – will it please you, Monseigneur?’

‘Above all things, child.’

‘Then – I’ll try,’ said Léonie, a heartbroken catch in her voice. ‘You won’t l-leave me with y-your sister for l-long, will you?’

‘Only until I can find someone to take care of you. Then you shall go to my house in the country, and learn to curtsy, to flirt with your fan, to simper, to have the vapours –’

‘I – won’t!’

‘I hope not,’ said his Grace, smiling faintly. ‘My dear child, there is no need for such misery.’

‘I have been Léon for so – so long! It will be so very, very hard!’

‘I think it will,’ said Avon, and took the crumpled handkerchief from her. ‘But you will try to learn all that you are taught, that I may be proud of my ward.’

‘Could you be, Monseigneur? Of – of me ?’

‘It is quite possible, my infant.’

‘I should like that,’ said Léonie, more happily. ‘I will be very good.’

The Duke’s fine lips twitched.

‘So you may be worthy of me? I wish Hugh could hear.’

‘Does – does he know?’

‘It transpired, my child, that he always knew. Allow me to suggest that you rise from your knees. So. Sit down.’

Léonie resumed her place on the settle, and gave a doleful sniff.

‘I must wear petticoats, and not say bad words, and always be with a woman. It is very hard, Monseigneur. I do not like women. I wish to be with you.’

‘And I wonder what Fanny will say to you?’ remarked his Grace. ‘My sister, Léonie, is all a woman.’

‘Is she like you?’ asked Léonie.

‘Now, how am I to take that?’ inquired his Grace. ‘She is not like me, infant. She is golden-haired and blue-eyed. I beg your pardon?’

‘I said Bah!’

‘You seem partial to that observation. It is not at all ladylike, my dear. You will obey Lady Fanny, and you will not flout and scorn her because of her golden hair.’

‘Of course I shall not. She is your sister, Monseigneur,’ answered Léonie. ‘Will she like me, do you think?’ She looked up at him with a troubled gleam in her eyes.

‘Why not?’ said his Grace flippantly.

A little smile flitted across Léonie’s mouth.

‘Oh – oh, I do not know, Monseigneur!’