“Infant, sit up! Come, I object to having my coat ruined. You have not heard all yet.”
“I won’t, I won’t!” came the muffled voice. “Let me be Leon! Please let me be Leon!”
His Grace lifted her.
“Instead of my page you shall be my ward. My daughter. Is it so terrible?”
“I do not want to be a girl! Oh please, Monseigneur, please.” Leon slipped from the settle to the floor, and knelt at his feet, gripping his hand. “Say yes, Monseigneur ! Say yes!”
“No, my babe. Dry your tears and listen to me. Don’t tell me you have lost your handkerchief.”
Leonie drew it from her pocket, and mopped her eyes.
“I don’t w-want to be—a girl!”
“Nonsense, my dear. It will be far more pleasant to be my ward than my page.”
“No!”
“You forget yourself,” said his Grace sternly. “I will not be contradicted.”
Leonie gulped down another sob.
“I—I am sorry, Monseigneur.”
“It’s very well. As soon as we have come to London I am going to take you to my sister—no, do not speak —my sister, Lady Fanny Marling. You see, infant, you cannot live with me until I have found some lady to act as— ah—duenna.”
“I will not! I will not!”
“You will do as I say, my good child. My sister will clothe you as befits your new position, and teach you to be—a girl. You will learn these things——”
“I will not! Never, never!”
“—because I command it. Then, when you are ready, you shall come back to me, and I will present you to Society.”
Leonie tugged at his hand.
“I won’t go to your sister! I will be just Leon! You cannot make me do as you say, Monseigneur! I will not!”
His Grace looked down at her in some exasperation.
“If you were still my page I should know how to deal with you,” he said.
“Yes, yes! Beat me, if you like, and let me still be your page! Ah, please, Monseigneur!”
“Unhappily it is impossible. Recollect, my infant, that you are mine, and must do as I say.”
Leonie promptly collapsed into a crumpled heap beside the settle, and sobbed into the hand she held. Avon allowed her to weep unrestrainedly for perhaps three minutes. Then he drew his hand away.
“You want me to send you away altogether?”
“Oh!” Leonie started up. “Monseigneur, you would not! You—oh no, no!”
“Then you will obey me. It is understood?”
There was a long pause. Leonie stared hopelessly into the cold hazel eyes. Her lip trembled, and a large tear rolled down her cheek.
“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, Leonie.”
She clung to him, her curls tickling his chin.
“Will—will it please you, Monseigneur?”
“Above all things, child.”
“Then—I’ll try,” said Leonie, 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 Leon 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 Leonie, 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.”
Leonie 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, Leonie, is all a woman.”
“Is she like you?” asked Leonie.
“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 Leonie. “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 Leonie’s mouth.
“Oh—oh, I don’t know, Monseigneur!”
“She will be kind to you for my sake.”
“Thank you,” said Leonie meekly, and with eyes downcast. Then, as Avon said nothing, she peeped up, and the roguish dimple appeared. Seeing it Avon ruffled her curls as though she still had been a boy.
“You are refreshing,” he said. “Fanny will try and make you like the rest of your sex. I believe that I do not want that.”
“No, Monseigneur. I will be just myself.” She kissed his hand, and her lip trembled. She controlled it, and smiled through her tears. “You have taken my handkerchief, Monseigneur.”
CHAPTER X
Lady Fanny Marling, reposing on a settee, found life monotonous. She pushed away the book of poems, over which she had been yawning, and started to play with one golden curl that had strayed over her shoulder and lay glistening on the lace of her wrapper. She was
In a few minutes her black page tapped upon the door. She put the mirror down, and turned her head to look at him.
Pompey grinned and bobbed his woolly head.
“Genelman to see ma’am!”
“His name?” she asked.
A soft voice spoke from behind the page.
