Glorious Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

the door opened.
    Two men entered. “Hello, Maman ,” one said.
    Delia blinked back her tears, wondering if she was about to encounter her Uncle Bernard. She’d never seen him and normally would have been curious. Her mother had told her Bernard strongly resembled her father. But now, she braced herself for another snub.
    The two men who entered appeared alike: dark hair, hazel eyes, and masculine versions of Adelaide’s delicate features. Both looked at her and halted. They glanced at each other with cocked eyebrows and then back at her. Although their faces were similar, one had deeper lines on his face and more gray in his hair. His gaze on her was kind. “Who are you, child?”
    “What are you doing here?” the other man said at the same time in a harsh voice.
    Delia straightened her shoulders. “I am Delia Fortier, daughter of Isadora Fortier and Andre Bellaire.”
    The kind-eyed man gave a sharp inhale and strode two steps closer. He took her shoulders, turned her toward the light from the windows, and studied her face. “Can it be?” he said in a wondering tone. “Can you be mine? How old are you, child?”
    Hope surged through her. “I’m hardly a child.” In spite her defiant words, Delia’s voice wobbled. “I’m twenty. Old enough to be forced into becoming a mistress to a man I fear.”
    “What’s this?” he said sharply, looking at his mother in accusation. “Did you know about her?”
    Mrs. Bellaire looked away, obviously feeling guilty.
    He made a visible effort to control himself.
    “Andre, unhand the girl so she can leave,” Mrs. Bellaire said sharply. “She doesn’t belong here.
    Andre? He is my father? Delia’s heart leapt with hope. He isn’t in New York, after all!
    “Goodness, Andre,” the other man drawled. “If you must speak with her, do so elsewhere. Not in Maman’s house. It isn’t seemly.”
    Her father shot a sharp look at his brother. “This is my home, too, Bernard.” He took Delia’s hand and towed her down the hall.
    “Andre, where are you going?” Mrs. Bellaire called after him.
    “To the parlor to visit with my daughter,” Andre said, looking over his shoulder. “Do me the courtesy of granting us privacy.”
    Her father didn’t wait for an answer. He led Delia into a parlor and motioned her to sit on a gold velvet settee. Then he took a seat next to her, turning so he could gaze into her eyes. “You’re so beautiful, Delia.” He touched her tignon and gave it a tiny tug. “May I?”
    A lump in Delia’s throat kept her from speaking. She nodded.
    Gently, he unknotted the cloth and pulled off the tignon, then settled back and stared at her. He waved at a portrait above the fireplace. “Your grandmother when she was about your age. Your hair is darker.” He fingered a curl that had escaped her braids. “With just a hint of red, your skin more olive, but you could be twins. Without your tignon, no one would know you weren’t as white as she.”
    Delia stared at the portrait. Her grandmother was dressed in a white antebellum gown. Pearls circled her neck and dangled from her ears. “Her hair is so pretty.”
    His grin made his eyes light to gold. “Maman hates her hair. She’s done her best to suppress my Yankee grandfather’s taint in our Creole blood. But the hair and eye colors give us away.” His expression sobered. “Now tell me, Delia. What is this about a relationship with a man you abhor? Why would Isadora do such a thing? Why not allow you to marry?”
    The worried look in her father’s eyes melted the lump in Delia’s throat, and she began to speak. “Maman had found a wealthy man of color for me to wed, and we became engaged. But before we could marry, he sickened with a lingering illness. We hoped he’d get well, but after two years, he died. Maman has had some financial setbacks, although she won’t tell me what was the cause. She feels that at my age, mistress or wife doesn’t matter as long as the man is wealthy.” Delia