Karla Darcy - [Sweet Deception Regency 04] Read Free

but now you're safe in England and things are different. You're fourteen years old. Your own body will give you away afore long."
    "Please, Jacko. I want to stay."
    The old man's heart was not hard enough to withstand the pleading tone in the young girl's voice. "All right, Leslie. We'll stay for a few days until we can decide what's to be done," Jacko said, noting the lines of strain on the face of the forlorn little figure. He sighed heavily as he laid out towels and suspiciously eyed the pile of clothes sent by the housekeeper. "Don't know where she got these. They're not first quality, but they'll do for now. Mind, don't spend too long in that water. Can't be good for a body all that wetting."
    Jacko stood at the entrance to the dressing room. His eyes kindled with warmth as he looked back at the young girl removing the ancient hunting jacket. It was a bloody shame that Captain Philip couldn't have lived to see his daughter now. He'd have been right proud of Leslie. An unaccustomed mist formed in Jacko's eyes and he brusquely blinked it away. "Bathin's a heathen custom, iffen you ask me. Which you won't, bein' as stubborn as your father," the old man sniffed as he bustled out of the room.
    Heart sinking, Leslie frowned at the quietly closing door. Jacko was doubtless correct. Her blue eyes clouded with sudden tears as the realization of the sheer folly of staying at Windhaven broke through.
    "But I want to stay," Leslie whispered, wearily sinking onto the bed.
    In all her life she had never had a home. Not a real one, she thought sadly. Her father had taken her with him to each of his temporary outposts in India, trusting her to Jacko and Manji and a succession of cheerful, though impermanent, amahs. There had never been anything stable in her life, only a series of colorful army posts and native villages.
    But the moment she had entered Windhaven, she felt she had come home. The estate smelled of stability. It was solid, withstanding time. Earlier, as she had looked across the desk at Pax, she had known she wanted to stay. She wanted to be a part of Windhaven.
    Leslie tore at her travel-grimed clothes, hands shaking with a combination of exhaustion and mental anguish. She kicked at the offending items as she stalked across the room to the mirror. Defiantly she lifted a tear-smudged face to her reflection. The naked girl stared back belligerently, determined to prove her ability to play the part of a ten-year-old boy.
    Leslie Kathryn Julianne Lathrup was short for a girl of fourteen and still had the curveless build of a young man. She turned sideways, for once proud of the fact that her bosom showed no signs of development. Since most girls of her age already had breasts, Leslie decided her figure would not change much in the next few years. Turning around she looked back over her shoulder studying her hipless figure and skinny legs. Once more Leslie faced the mirror. She raked her hands through her rumpled curls, twisting the hair tightly behind her neck. Striking an arrogant pose, she stared triumphantly at her reflection.
    "I can do it," she announced to the boyish figure in the mirror.
    She scampered across to the tub but, about to climb in, whirled to the pile of clothes on the floor. She grasped the hunting jacket and tore at the material for the paper hidden beneath the lining. Taking out her birth records, she folded them carefully and searched the room for a hiding place. Her tattered portmanteau stood beside the bed and she rummaged within for the music box she never let far out of her sight. It was one of the rare presents that her father had given her. She gently touched the tiny fawns, carved of rosewood, that dotted the top. She turned one of the little figures and a drawer opened in the bottom of the box. Carefully she inserted her birth papers and snapped the drawer shut, placing it on the table beside her bed. A puckish grin lit her face, and she winked at her reflection in the mirror across the room.
    "I