Deceive Not My Heart

by Shirlee Busbee

  Is that really me? she wondered, staring open mouthed at the slender, fashionably attired young woman who stared back at her. Mercy had done her work well; the tawny curls had been piled high on Leonie's small head, and several tiny ringlets had been coaxed down to caress her ears and cheeks. A very light dusting of pearl white powder across her face and bosom had given her an ethereal look, but no artifice was needed to add color to her soft coral mouth or to intensify the depths of the green eyes. The exquisitely fashioned gown was as beautiful as she remembered it, and it gave her an air of elegance with its slim, classical lines, the ever-changing amber and bronze hues of the silk a perfect foil for Leonie's coloring. From beneath the narrow skirt, a neatly turned ankle could be glimpsed above delightful amber satin slippers; Leonie was aware that she had never been so richly dressed in her entire life.

  Next to her skin, she could feel the fine lace-trimmed lawn chemise and petticoat and the softness of her silken stockings. It was a delicious feeling and she felt sinful for enjoying it. Even the perfume she wore tonight had a wickedly intoxicating scent to it; a faint scent of gardenia lingered in the air wherever she moved.

  It was difficult not to be excited and pleased with herself, and though Leonie fought a valiant battle, she lost. A happy smile on her face, she nearly skipped down the hall to Yvette's room to share her pleasure.

  "Yvette," she cried gaily as she danced into the room. "Look at me! What do you think?" With an endearing innocence she added "I am very grand, n'est-ce pas?"

  Yvette, feeling much better, agreed. "Oh, Leonie, how beautiful you are! You will be the belle of the ball, oui?"

  Remembering that she was not supposed to enjoy herself, Leonie grimaced, "Bah! What do I care?" And sitting down on the edge of Yvette's bed she asked anxiously, "You do not mind that I am going out and leaving you here?"

  Yvette smiled gently. "No, I do not mind. After all, it is you who are married to Monsieur Slade. I am merely your companion."

  Leonie scowled. "You will not say such things! You will have just as many beautiful gowns, too. You will see! I promise that it will be true!"

  Yvette giggled and murmured, "Leonie, ma petite, I never doubted it." Struck by a sudden thought, she asked, "Has Justin seen you yet?"

  "No, but I am on my way to him now. Do you think he will like me this way?"

  "I'm certain he will," Yvette said warmly.

  Justin was enchanted with Leonie's appearance, but it was the scent of gardenia that he liked best. Burying his little face in her neck, he prattled, "Ah, maman, you smell like a flower. A very pretty one, oui?"

  Leonie gave a gurgle of laughter. "But of course, mon coeur! I am your maman, am I not?"

  She did not stay long with Justin, but having kissed him good night and having given the nursemaid instructions for the evening, she made her way to the main parlor. Entering it, some of her happiness evaporated. After all, nothing had really changed between her and Monsieur Slade. But, she could not restrain her pleasure and excitement.

  She knew the reason for her elated mood, but she stubbornly persisted in pretending otherwise. It is merely the thought of going to my first ball and the enjoyment of having fashionable clothes, she told herself time and time again. But her heart knew the real reason and though she had tried to push Morgan's question out of her mind all afternoon and evening, it came back to haunt her.

  Appearances would lead one to believe that he wanted a real marriage, and it was all Leonie could do not to throw common sense to the winds and fling herself into his arms shouting, yes, yes, yes when he walked into the parlor a few minutes later. But uncertainty—he had shown himself to be as changeable as the winds—held her back.

  In his evening clothes, he was formidable, his dark, lean good looks intensified by the white ruffled shirt and the low-cut black kerseymere waistcoat he wore. Black breeches with black silk stockings encased his muscular legs and the double-breasted coat of black velvet fit his broad shoulders superbly.

  Watching him as he walked across the room with that loose-limbed stride of his, she was reminded vividly of an elegant, dangerous panther. The air of aloofness about him did nothing to dispel the image Leonie had conjured up, and she was caught by surprise when he suddenly sent her a slow, heart-stopping smile.

  His voice husky, he said, "You're very beautiful this evening, cat-eyes. More beautiful than I ever realized before."

  Embarrassed and suddenly shy, Leonie gazed everywhere but at him and replied in a gruff little voice, "You are very handsome too, monsieur." Her eyes flying to his, she amended hastily, "I m-m-mean, M-Morgan."

  He grinned at her. "Very nicely done. And because I do not want you to think me a miserly sort of fellow, I went into Natchez this afternoon and visited a jeweler." A teasing note in his voice he added, "Would you like to see what I bought?"

  She nodded, thoroughly mesmerized by this appealing side to his personality, and her eyes widened, when he opened a slim leather case and presented it to her. On a bed of white satin was a lovely topaz pendant and matching earrings.

  Almost off handedly, Morgan said, "I thought they would go well with your gown. Do you like them?"

  Reverently Leonie stared at the glittering jewels. She had never possessed, never thought to possess anything like them and she was momentarily dumbstruck. "They're beautiful!" she breathed a few moments later. Morgan grinned, pleased that she was so taken with his gift.

  Lifting the pendant from its bed of satin, he fastened it around her neck and then stood back to admire it. "Just as I thought, the perfect complement to a lovely gown... and a lovely lady."

  Stunned by this unexpected gift, Leonie reached up to touch the pendant with a caressing hand. "I have never seen anything quite so exquisite," she murmured almost to herself.

  If this is a performance, it's a good one, Morgan thought as he watched her through narrowed eyes. Tonight his armor was well in place and though he could act lightly, there was no lightness within him, only bleak derision at his own vacillation. One moment he was certain he loved her, and the next he was quite positive that she was a scheming, lying little bitch. The gift of the jewels betrayed his erratic state of mind—he hadn't meant to buy them, and Leonie's pleasure had been the last thing he had been thinking about when he had left her earlier in the day, but when he had seen them, he hadn't been able to resist the impulse. But if he had given into that particular impulse, he had then convinced himself that it was only for his own twisted amusement that he had done so. Continuing his role of detachment, he murmured, "I'm happy that my gift pleased you. Perhaps, in the future, I can find a brooch that will match it, and if you like, I will buy it for you too."

  Even more startled, for the man she had married in New Orleans had never struck her as being particularly generous, Leonie stared up at him with perplexity. "No. I do not need you to buy me things. I should not accept either these lovely clothes or these beautiful jewels."

  The conflict within her was easy to see, one part of her wanting to keep everything he had given her and another rebelling against anything that remotely smacked of charity. Morgan frowned, his armor cracking just a little. She never stays the same, he thought with angry frustration, wanting to kiss her and shake her at the same time. But she was so adorable, so sweetly determined to do the right thing as she stood before him, that helplessly Morgan felt his anger melting. Unable to help himself, he shook his head at his own contradictory emotions and reached for her. Holding her loosely by the shoulders, and looking down into her face, he asked, "May we put aside our differences for this evening?"

  Wariness as well as uncertainty was obvious in her sea-green eyes, but after a long searching moment, she nodded her head. And determined that he not take advantage, she added, "For tonight only."

  Morgan smiled derisively, "For tonight only, cat-eyes! Now we had best be on our way, or we shall be the last to arrive."

  The ball for Aaron Burr was being held at Concord, Stephen Minor's estate. Minor, an ex-governor
of Natchez, was a wealthy and powerful man, and Morgan knew that the place would be thronged with influential men of the district and their families.

  He wasn't wrong. The house was ablaze with light when Morgan and Leonie arrived. Candlelight from several crystal chandeliers spilled out over the wide veranda and from the open windows and doors could be heard the sound of many voices, the softly pitched laughter of women and the deeper tones of the men.

  Despite her fine clothes and outward appearance of elegance, inside Leonie was trembling. There was no doubt that tonight she would meet many of the people who had attended the ball meant to announce Morgan's betrothal to Melinda Marshall, and she was nervous. It was her first venture into polite society and, to a young woman more at home scampering about a run-down plantation in her bare feet than in the lofty precincts she now found herself, it was a daunting experience.

  Morgan must have had some idea of her trepidation, because as they entered the magnificent ballroom, he squeezed the small hand that rested on his forearm and murmured, "No one will bite you, cat-eyes! And if anyone causes you the least bit of apprehension"—his eyes suddenly hardened—"don't worry, I'll deal with them."

  Leonie might still harbor a faint resentment against the Slade family in general, but the way they closed ranks around her this evening, never allowing her to be alone for one moment with curious, sometimes spiteful strangers, did much to endear them to her. The entire family, with the exception of the twins, were in attendance, and if Noelle was unexpectedly absorbed in conversation with her many friends and Leonie was swept away by the crowd, she instantly found Morgan, Matthew, Robert, or Dominic at her side. The Slade family formed a formidable ring of protection about her, and consequently she found herself relaxing, actually enjoying her first ball. Morgan's tall presence was never far from her, and her father-in-law's pride in his new daughter-in-law was almost palpable as he danced her around the crowded ballroom. As for Robert and Dominic, they kept her amused with wickedly accurate appraisals of various people she met. Dominic did most of the talking, but Robert added his own witty comments now and then.

  The meeting between her and Noelle had occurred just as they entered the room, and at first Leonie was stiff, her pride still wounded from the way Noelle had gone behind her back in the matter of clothes. But Noelle, a twinkle in her dark eyes, had banished any ill feeling between them when she said, "Petite, am I forgiven? It was horrid of me and if you never speak to me again, I shall understand. But you are so lovely and I could not bear to see such gorgeous charms hidden away—you are not still angry with me?"

  What could Leonie say? During the remainder of the evening she had been grateful for her mother-in-law's lively presence, as Noelle dragged her willy-nilly into the throng and began to introduce her to people.

  Actually, a better opportunity to introduce Leonie to Natchez society couldn't have been chosen. Tonight the scandal of Morgan's marriage was the last thing on anybody's mind. Burr was the name on everybody's lips, Aaron Burr, the man of the hour.

  No matter which group Morgan and Leonie joined, within moments the topic of the conversation was Burr. Burr was a devil. Burr was an angel. A patriot. A traitor. A victim. A murderer. By the time the great man himself appeared, Morgan was more than just a little curious to meet him. And even more curious about this odd trip of his down the Mississippi.

  Having lived such a nomadic life, Morgan had missed most of the controversy surrounding Aaron Burr during the past several years. But Matthew along with Robert and Dominic had been more than happy to inform Morgan of some of the facts and speculations concerning the ex-vice-president. It was, Matthew had said, President Jefferson's suspicion that Burr had attempted to sway the election of 1800 against him, and in his own favor, that had led to Burr's downfall in Jefferson's Democratic party. The election of 1800 had been close—the tally of the electorate resulting in a tie between Burr and Jefferson. Vote after vote was taken, but the tie remained and there was a great deal of speculation that Burr had made a deal with the opposing Federalist party and was actively seeking to take the election away from Jefferson. And this when it had been clearly understood within his own Democratic Party that he was to be Vice-President and not President.

  In the end it was the House of Representatives who decided the issue, voting by the slim margin of one vote for Thomas Jefferson. Understandably, Jefferson's distrust of his Vice-President remained, and for his second term of office he had chosen George Clinton as his running mate, signaling loudly and bluntly that Burr was out of favor.

  But it wasn't only the election of 1800 that was against Burr. Colonel Burr, as he was called, was a man whom whispers seemed to follow—there was always a hint of scandal, of questionable ethics, of things better left unsaid. His reputation as a womanizer was well-known, although no one doubted the depth of his feelings for his only daughter, Theodosia. He was no stranger to the dueling field, facing Alexander Hamilton's brother-in-law in 1799 when that gentleman accused him of bribery, and just last year, in July of 1804, he had killed Alexander Hamilton himself in a duel when Hamilton questioned some of Burr's ethics.

  More than any one thing, it was, perhaps, the killing of Hamilton, "saint of the Federalists," that had brought about his political ruin. Despite the fact that the duel had been fought correctly, Burr had found himself facing the prospect of having a murder warrant sworn out for his arrest. Some said it was because Jefferson was hounding him, others suspected the enraged Federalists of wanting his blood. At any rate, Burr was decidedly unpopular in the East. He was still under indictment in New York and New Jersey and as for his political future...

  But if he was not in favor in Washington, the same could not be said west of the Appalachians. Everywhere Burr went on this peculiar southern journey to New Orleans, he was greeted as a conquering hero. Crowds turned out to meet him; parades and balls and parties were arranged to entertain him; everywhere, everybody wanted to meet with the charming, enigmatic, dapper man.

  Burr had stayed with General Andrew Jackson when he passed through Nashville, but Morgan found it particularly interesting that he had also held a meeting at Fort Massac on the Ohio River with General James Wilkinson before traveling on to Natchez. Now why, Morgan wondered, should Wilkinson, who owes his position and power as the senior officer of the military to Jefferson, entertain a man known to be out of favor with Jefferson? A most curious circumstance, he decided thoughtfully, especially in view of Wilkinson's penchant for intrigue.

  Chapter 24

  Morgan did not exactly wish to be introduced to Aaron Burr, but it was an honor he didn't avoid either... particularly since his curiosity had been aroused about Burr's meeting with Wilkinson. Certainly there were many present that had come expressly for the purpose of forming an acquaintance with Aaron Burr, and watching the surge of the crowd as Burr made his way through the throng, Morgan was amused. Viewing the clamor about the small party that accompanied Burr as he moved about the huge ballroom, Morgan smiled cynically, momentarily entertained by the furor.

  Burr was not an imposing figure—standing only six inches above five feet, and of a slim, wiry build, he didn't appear to be the type of man whose mere presence would arouse such a feverish commotion. Just fifty years old, Aaron Burr was a dark man with thin, almost horizontal eyebrows above well-shaped hazel eyes. Often called a dandy, he was elegantly attired in a white ruffled shirt and black satin breeches, a coat of dark gray velvet fitting snugly over his slender shoulders. His allure was undeniable, but watching the effortless grace with which he bowed and exchanged greetings with those fawning around him, Morgan wondered that others didn't question such facile charm.

  Most people had already been introduced to Burr so the initial excitement of his presence had begun to die down when Morgan found himself face to face with him. Leonie was at his side, her little hand unconsciously clasping his forearm with unnecessary pressure as they approached Aaron Burr.

  Once again, Morgan's hand covered hers in a reassuring
touch and he murmured, "Chin up, sweetheart. He's only a man."

  Leonie shot him an indignant look, "I am not nervous!" she hissed under her breath. "I'm excited!"

  At the moment, there were only two small groups near Burr. The group that interested Morgan consisted of Noelle, Matthew, and Robert, as well as their host, Stephen Minor, and Colonel Osmun. Morgan was well acquainted with Stephen Minor—Matthew and Stephen were old friends and Morgan's friend Philip Nolan had been Stephen's brother-in-law. Osmun he knew only slightly, but the man's firm handshake and bluff, hearty personality were hard to resist.

  "Pleasure to meet you again, Slade," Osmun replied pleasantly to Matthew's introduction. And turning to Leonie, he said gallantly, "So this is the beautiful sister-in-law I have heard Robert singing the praises of all evening. My dear, I am enchanted." Throwing Morgan a teasing look, he added, "If I were you, sir, and I had a brother like Robert, I'm afraid I'd be a mite jealous."

  Morgan laughed just as Burr, who had been talking with several gentlemen to their right, entered the conversation. Swinging around to face Morgan and the others, he smiled and murmured, "And if I were married to someone as lovely as young Mrs. Slade, I know I would be jealous!"

  Burr's unusual eyes seemed to caress Leonie's sweet features and to Morgan's amusement she blushed. But as Burr's reputation for being a devil with the ladies had preceded him, Morgan sent him a level glance and said, "But, gentlemen, let me assure you, I am jealous! And as capable as the next man of defending my honor." Putting a possessive arm around Leonie's slender waist, he finished blandly. "Fortunately, my wife is the epitome of virtue and I am content to know that she would never give me reason to doubt her."

  That Burr received Morgan's message was clear from the elegant shrug of his narrow shoulders and the mournful glance he sent Leonie. "Ah, madame, I fear your husband is a jealous brute! It is apparent that he will tolerate not even the mildest dalliance."