Morgan felt her shiver and thinking it was nervousness, his hand tightened around her elbow. Bending his head a little, he whispered, "I'm not going to strangle you, cat-eyes... no matter what we find out."
Leonie sent him a scornful look. "Monsieur, I have nothing to hide! I have been telling the truth and you will discover nothing here that will come as a surprise to me!"
Morgan's brow rose. A mocking smile lifting the corner of his mouth, he murmured, "Somehow that's exactly what I suspected you would say. Under the circumstances you are to be commended for your brave stance."
"Ah, bah! You do not make sense, monsieur! None of this makes any sense! What do you hope to prove by your poking and prying? That I am lying?" Leonie gave a low, angry laugh. "You are much mistaken, monsieur, if you think you can discredit me. The truth will prevail!"
"Which is precisely what I want," Morgan said sharply, the blue eyes hard as they rested on her flushed features.
An unladylike snort came from Leonie, but whatever else she would have said was stilled by the sight of the gaunt figure walking out the vestibule near the altar. Throwing Morgan an entreating glance, she shook off his hand and muttered, "Monsieur, please do not be rude to me in front of Pere Antoine. He would not understand how it is with us."
Feeling like the villain in the piece and not liking it, Morgan barely had time to murmur, "I have no intention of making our differences public," before the priest walked up to them.
Pere Antoine's brown eyes widened with pleasure as they rested on Leonie's face and with obvious warmth he said, "Leonie, my dear! What a most pleasant surprise to see you here." Taking her hand in his he smiled down at her and continued, "But how is this? I had heard that you had left Saint-Andre and meant to live in Natchez with your husband? What has brought you back to New Orleans?"
Shyly Leonie indicated Morgan and stammered, "M-my h-husband, Pere Antoine, he wished to visit the cathedral to view our marriage records."
One thin black brow rising quizzically, Pere Antoine turned to look at Morgan. "How curious! A Jason Savage was here recently and he, too, wanted exactly the same thing. Have you some doubts about the validity of your marriage? It was most proper I assure you—if you remember, I performed the ceremony myself."
Staring intently into the lined, serene face Morgan asked bluntly, "And was I the man you married her to?"
Pere Antoine was clearly taken aback. "But of course, monsieur! I have known Leonie all her life and while I had never met you before the wedding, I remember what a lovely couple you made. I also remember how happy I was that Leonie's future was finally assured, and how fortunate she was to have such a handsome young husband."
Conscious of a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Morgan forced himself to press further. "Are you quite certain that I am that man? You have no doubts?"
Affronted and yet puzzled, Pere Antoine's eyes traveled slowly over Morgan's features. "I believe so," he finally said. "As I told Monsieur Savage, and as I told you just a moment ago, I only met you the one time, and while I might not have remembered you exactly if we had passed on the street, seeing you here in the cathedral with Leonie at your side brings it all back to me." His brown eyes boring into Morgan's blue eyes, he said softly, "Monsieur, I do not know what the problem is, but be assured that I recognize you as the man I married to Leonie... unless, of course, you have a twin whose name is also Morgan Slade."
Morgan's face went white and in that second, like a bullet striking him between the eyes, the answer to the entire mystery exploded in his brain. The disquieting feeling that there was something vital about that trip to New Orleans in 1799 that he should have remembered, the missing piece of the puzzle that had eluded him, and the certainty that there was another man involved, all those baffling fragments added up just one thing.
"Ashley!" Morgan snarled with such suppressed venom that Pere Antoine took a step backwards and Leonie stared at Morgan with openmouthed astonishment.
Hardly aware of the two of them, Morgan's hands unconsciously clenched into fists. With silent virulence he cursed himself as he remembered times in the past that Ashley had taken advantage of their extraordinary resemblance, and had impersonated him and forged his signature as well. I should have remembered as soon as I saw those damned documents! he thought with helpless rage.
The episode of the forged gaming vowels, and the seduction of the tavern wench came flooding back to Morgan. "How could I have been so blind? So damned bloody blind!" His words exploded and echoed in the silent cathedral.
"Young man! I think you forget that this is God's house!" Pere Antoine said sharply.
Blankly Morgan stared at him, and then with an effort he shook himself free of the ugly thoughts that were raging in his brain. Guiltily aware that he had offended the priest, he said, "Forgive me, Father! Your words gave me a shock." And feeling some further explanation was necessary for his peculiar behavior he added, "You made me remember something that I should never have forgotten... but that was no excuse for my profanity. I am sorry if I gave offense and can only beg your forgiveness."
Mollified, Pere Antoine replied, "Of course, my son. And I am happy I could help you. I trust that I have answered all of your questions?"
There were many questions rioting through Morgan's brain, but Pere Antoine could answer none of them. It was apparent that Leonie had not lied about the marriage and obvious too that the priest knew her well—at least she was no impostor! Had she known what Ashley was up to? And been a willing party to the farce? He thought not, but it was an avenue that needed exploring. Conscious of the priest waiting politely for his answer, Morgan nodded. "Yes, you have, Father.... I cannot tell you how important this conversation has been to me."
Turning to the confused Leonie, Morgan grasped her upper arm and said, "We won't take up any more of your time, Father. I think we had best be off now, don't you agree, my dear?"
Leonie nodded, totally at sea by his sudden transformation. Mon Dieu, would she ever understand him?
Pere Antoine regarded them for a long moment and then asked, "Monsieur Slade, is it possible that you suffer from a loss of memory? Is that why you have asked these most peculiar questions? Why you had Monsieur Savage examine the marriage registry?"
"That's it exactly!" Morgan replied, as he seized upon the excuse offered for his odd behavior. Embellishing the theme, he prevaricated, "It is an old dueling wound, you understand? And sometimes certain events are hazy to me."
"Somewhat unnerving for your family and friends, I would suspect," Pere Antoine said dryly.
"I fear it is!" Morgan answered quite cheerfully. Glancing at Leonie's perplexed features, he added, "My wife has found it a great trial these past weeks, but I think now, after this enlightening conversation, that things will be much easier between us."
Wanting time to think, Morgan dragged Leonie out of the cathedral. Furious with himself for not realizing sooner what had happened, his brain was wildly sorting out the implications of what he had learned. If only, he thought viciously, I had remembered receiving the news of Ashley's presence in New Orleans, that would have explained a great deal'
Morgan hadn't completely organized his racing thoughts, but he knew for damn certain now that Ashley had been impersonating him to his own advantage. And as the minutes passed, and he reviewed all he knew about the situation, he was inclined to believe that Leonie had also been Ashley's victim. The cold cynic in him objected on principle to such weak proof of Leonie's innocence, but his heart would have none of it—she had to be innocent!
As he drove the horses through the narrow streets, Leonie was quiet for several moments. Finally she asked, "Is it true, monsieur? Is that wound the reason you have acted so strangely?"
For a second Morgan's mind went blank. Unwilling to try to explain what he thought had happened—and still uncertain of her possible involvement in the scheme—he replied, "Yes. But I have never let my family know the full extent of my injury. It would trouble my parents too muc
h, I fear, so it has been not discussed in the family. I should have told you about it earlier."
Suspicious, Leonie stared at him, trying hard to ignore the attraction between them. "You are telling me the truth? You are not lying? This is not just another way to avoid repaying my dowry?"
Morgan took a deep breath, torn between the desire to curse and laugh at the same time. Cynicism aside, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her soundly and tell her the truth, but this was not a propitious time. She was far more likely to box his ears than to respond passionately to his embrace. He was certain that given the situation between them, if she were innocent and he attempted to explain about Ashley, she would be convinced that it was only another delaying tactic. But wanting to reassure her, he said, "This is not a trick, Leonie." Ruthlessly throttling the lingering doubt, his face hard, he continued, "As for your dowry, I'll start making arrangements for it to be paid to you, just as soon as I can see my business agent here. By the end of the week you should have your damned money!"
Instead of the triumph she had expected to feel at these words, Leonie found herself strangely bereft, as if her protective armor had been stripped from her. She tried to tell herself that she was overjoyed at his unexpected capitulation, but her apparent victory filled her with an aching hollowness. Once Morgan had repaid the money, there would be no reason for them to continue their marriage. No reason at all, Leonie thought painfully, squeezing back sudden, hot tears. The agreement they had signed before their marriage had made that quite clear.
The news of his old dueling wound did much to explain his erratic behavior and she felt her heart fill with sympathy for him. It must have been galling for him, she decided miserably, to have accepted her accusations of treachery and her assertion that she was his wife, when he couldn't even remember marrying her! No wonder he had been cruel at times! He must have thought she was an unprincipled jade!
Curiously, she asked, "Does the wound trouble you overmuch, monsieur? I mean, does your memory come and go?"
Morgan muttered, "Er, no, it doesn't. Our marriage seems to be the only major event I have ever forgotten."
Leonie frowned. "But you do remember it now?" she asked.
Morgan debated again the wisdom of more lies and decided against it. Sooner or later he was going to have some unpleasant explaining to do and the more truth he told now, the better off he was going to be then. He didn't relish the prospect of telling Leonie about Ashley, especially since she was so understandably mistrustful of him, but he disliked even more the idea of pretending knowledge he didn't have. Unable to look at her, he said only, "No... not exactly."
Leonie threw him a speculative glance, the lingering distrust obvious in the green eyes. "But when you spoke to Pere Antoine, you implied you remembered everything!"
Morgan swore softly under his breath and replied, "I know that the marriage took place... but I don't know the events that led up to it." Looking across at her, he asked, "Would you mind telling me how the marriage came about? I'm afraid the times you have spoken of it in the past, I didn't pay much attention." Giving her a lopsided grin, he added honestly, "I was too busy telling myself what a convincing little liar you were."
Uncertain whether to take umbrage at his words or not, Leonie regarded him for a moment. Coming to the conclusion that if he hadn't remembered the marriage that he deserved some explanation, she told him how her grandfather had decided it was time for her to marry.
"It was only after he died," she said, "that I learned from our physician that grand-pere had known he didn't have long to live. That was why he was in such a hurry to marry me off." Smiling tentatively at Morgan, she went on, "I was furious when he first told me about the marriage! And I wasn't happy when he mentioned you either! He told me that he had met you at the governor's house and that it was all decided... everything, that is, but the dowry."
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.
Deceive Not My Heart Page 37
