Larcenous Lady Read Online Free PDF Page B

flashing black eyes said a deal more. “Some English tourists will be attending, I hear.”
    “Thank you, Réal. Perhaps we’ll drop around. What do you say, Pronto?” Belami asked.
    “I wouldn’t mind hearing some English faces,” Pronto agreed. “The people here all sound like fishwives—wretched twangy voices.” Réal pokered up, and Pronto rushed on to assuage him. “Not like your nice soft Canadian French.”
    “My people, they come from Bretagne,” Réal said. “The Parisians, they speak very bad French.”
    “You ought to hear their English,” Pronto informed him.
    Réal left, and Pronto went to his room to change for dinner. It was a good sign that Dick wanted to meet some girls. Dick was in high spirits all through dinner. He waxed quite eloquent on the advantages of foreign travel. He spoke of staying another week in Paris, then moving on to Italy. “Shall we stop at Torino, Pronto, or skip right along to Milan?”
    “Thought we was going to Turin first,” Pronto reminded him.
    “Torino is Turin—it’s the Italian name for it.”
    “I see it’s going to be as bad as France; everybody calling things by the wrong names. I’m all for getting as far south as we can. Paris is colder than London.”
    “I think you might be right,” Belami said. “We’ll continue down to Naples.” A lady come to ease her lungs would certainly head south.
    “But stopping at Venice. I want to see the water roads—the canals. Didn’t get to see the head of John the Baptist.” An accusing glare accompanied this.
    They chatted about their trip till dinner was finished. Pronto leaned back and suggested a glass of brandy to top off, but Dick was strangely eager to get along to the little ball, so they left. When they had entered La Licorne, Pronto looked around in disgust. “What kind of a den is this? You’ve been led astray, Dick. Let’s shab off somewhere else.”
    “They’re beginning a quadrille. If we hurry, we might get partners and have one dance before we leave.” Belami hastened his steps toward the doorway, Pronto following reluctantly.
    At the Licorne, the duchess had never been in better curl, and it was all due to dear Mrs. Sutton, now called Meggie. The woman was a godsend. She had no more skill for accounting than a sparrow. One had only to remind her there were three in the Sutton party versus two in her own and Meggie would snap up the bill quick as winking. The delightful words, “Let me get this one,” came to her lips as readily as a smile.
    Meggie also showed a fine discernment in accommodations. She spurned the more expensive spots, but had a genius for discovering cheap places in the right neighborhood. Her hand was as quick to draw forth the necessary pourboires as the duchess’s was slow.
    Nor was this largesse the sum of Meggie’s virtues. She was a stern moralist. Her husband having been a clergyman in Cornwall would account for her keeping her gels on a tight rein, though truth to tell they were not at all prone to flirtations. They were good modest girls, even in their dress. No scintillating conversation or high degree of learning was required from such obliging traveling companions as this.
    The three young ladies also found much to like in each other. Deirdre favored the elder daughter, Elvira. It was not so much similarity as the attraction of opposites. Elvira was what Belami would call fast. She had a sharp tongue and a knowing eye. Lucy was more demure and somewhat given to sulking. It was Elvira who learned of the assembly that evening. The duchess cast no rub in their way when she learned Meggie was willing to act as chaperone for all the girls.
    “Excellent.” She nodded. “I shall have an early night. Try not to waken me when you come in, Deirdre.” This request was unnecessary. How could you awaken a lady who had dosed herself liberally with laudanum, as the duchess usually did?
    At eight-thirty the duchess brought out a marble-covered gothic novel to read