Love's Vengeance Read Free Page B

with smoky dark eyes and a sensitive, gentle and loving soul. But that mattered not to those in search of a husband by the weight of his purse or the holdings of his family.
    “ Ma Petite ?”
    Desiree came from her musings to find her mother waiting for some reply. No—she decided silently, she would not act against her nature, not with Antoine or any other man. She was not some supposedly doe-eyed little twit, secretly conniving and scheming, all for a man’s unwitting entrapment. Aloud she said lightly, “I fear I shall be forced to move to the south of France to find one I have not befriended.”
    “Worry not my Precious. One day a man will come into your life and he shall woo you—perhaps dare a kiss, ask you for your hand and take you as his wife.”
    “Do you believe that—truly Mama?”
    “I do! Now go and find your Papa so that we may be off.”
     
    ***
     
    Desiree found her father in the front hall, pensively staring out the large window overlooking the grounds before their home. She quietly moved up beside him, looking out the window and expecting to see some disturbance, which caused him to frown so.
    “Papa?” she questioned.
    He turned with a start to find an angelic face close to his shoulder. Twinkling eyes sparkled up at him lovingly.
    “What on earth were you thinking about?" she giggled, hugging his arm adoringly, “You looked positively pained!”
    “I have been contemplating losing my sweet little girl to some man in the not too distant future.” He confessed.
    Desiree pursed her lips, knitting her brow, “To be sure Papa,” she quipped, “You spend sleepless nights worrying on just that loss.”
    “Do you doubt my concern for you? More nights than you know I wonder on that very topic.” He nodded curtly.
    “That must be why I am forever feeling the lash of your tongue when I decline an unappealing offer to wed! You are simply cranky and cross from lack of sleep. Now it is all clear to me.” She teased mischievously, kissing his cheek and with a theatrical flair and swishing of her skirt, swept out the front door, leaving him to glare after her.
    Celeste emerged from the drawing room, having caught the conversation as she approached and he scowled darkly at her amused expression.
    “Celeste—that child is incorrigible!" he fumed, flailing his hands in exasperation, “Where on earth did she acquire her prowess with a gibe?”
    His wife touched his jaw with a lilting laugh, “ Mon Cheri …I can not imagine where she inherited that trait!” she taunted wonderingly and then mimicked Desiree’s flamboyant exit, following her to the waiting carriage.
    “You two are a pair, to be sure!” Robare hissed, stealthily stalking his wife’s backside and delivering a gentle swat.
     
    ***
     
    The drive around the lake to the Roche’s took the lesser part of an hour. A pleasant outing when compared with the drive into the town proper of Rouen or the eighty miles to Paris, which took days and wore on a body with the constant jostling of the carriage. A light breeze blew across the water, stirring the gold tassels of the raised leather shades and carried on it the soft scent of lilac, in full bloom. The warm air of spring brought a high-spiritedness to the matched pair of white Boulonnais’ and they pranced and nickered merrily along at a smart clip.
    Desiree anxiously watched from the window as familiar landscape passed by. The ride seemed interminably long to someone with little patience. She had always been one to run if she could arrive at her destination sooner for her efforts. She enjoyed horseback rather than a carriage, which seemed the slowest mode to travel of all. She felt as if she could dismount the contraption and make the trek faster by foot. They moved along at what seemed a snail's pace and she was relieved when the sharp curve came into view ahead, heralding the more than halfway point in their journey. She could hear Georges’, the driver, above the creaking carriage