Leonie (73 page)

Diego was the most handsome man in Paris, decided Amanda, sitting opposite him at their table in the Ritz dining room. But he wasn’t his usual entertaining self tonight, he was quieter and seemed to have his mind on other things. Was it something
she
had done? she wondered guiltily. Had she upset him in some way? Or worse: was he bored with her? The pang of doubt turned into one of fear. She didn’t want to lose him, he was too good a catch.

“What’s the matter, Diego?” Her wide blue eyes were concerned and Diego patted her hand kindly.

“Of course you would notice that something was wrong,” he said with a rueful smile. “You’re so sensitive.”

Amanda relaxed, it wasn’t her fault then. “Tell me,” she coaxed, “maybe I can help.”

Diego stared moodily at the tablecloth. “Help? No, you can’t help.” He looked up and smiled at her suddenly. “Let’s forget it,” he said, determinedly cheerful. “Why don’t you tell me what you were doing today?”

Amanda remembered what had happened that afternoon. “You’ll never guess who I saw today shopping in Poiret’s salon!”

Jesus, thought Diego, she’s spending her money at Poiret’s now!

“No.” He smiled. “Who?”

“Léonie!” Amanda sat back in her chair triumphantly, “the famous singing star. I saw her perform once years ago in New York and she was fabulous—of course, she doesn’t appear in public anymore now that she’s married, but she’s just as beautiful.”

Léonie—the name triggered a nerve of response in Diego: the corridor of the Pavillon and Edouard’s voice speaking to Isabelle. Léonie—that was the name of Amélie’s famous French mother. Could it be the same woman? It must be—and what was the rest? Something about a man. Monsieur! That was it, a man called “Monsieur” was some kind of threat to Amélie. “Tell me,” he asked with sudden interest, “what did Léonie look like?”

“Don’t you
know?
” Amanda was astonished. “She’s very tall and elegant. Her eyes are this most marvelous amber color, and when she smiled at me she looked really pleased that I had spoken to her. And, of course, she has that great mane of blond hair—only it was swept back today because she was in town shopping—she’s still so beautiful.” Amanda smiled, showing her pretty little teeth. “It was the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in Paris … apart from meeting you, of course.”

Diego took her hand and kissed it. There was something in all this, if only he could find out what it was—and how to use it. How much did Amélie know—and Roberto?

“Wasn’t there once some terrible scandal about her?” he asked casually. “I seem to remember something.”

“Oh, you mean the child. That was years ago, right at the beginning of her career. Some rich guy claimed that he was the father of her daughter and tried to take the child from her. Of course he didn’t succeed, I don’t know why. Someone told me the story once, apparently it was headlines in all the newspapers here.”

The newspapers! That was it. Tomorrow he’d find out exactly what the story was. And then he’d know what to do about it.

“Amanda, I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” he said, brushing his lips on her naked arm.

A thrill shot up Amanda’s spine at his caress. “Without me?”

Diego dropped small kisses on her arm. “I didn’t want to tell you, but I’ve had bad news from home … it’s my father.”

Her eyes flew open in concern. “He’s not … dead?”

“No, but he’s very ill, Amanda, and I have to return right away.” Diego hesitated. “It’s not what I had planned.”

“What had you planned?” The candle glimmered on the table
between them and the red-walled intimacy of the alcove, screened by a flowering plant, hid them from view. Only their waiter lingered nearby and the hum of conversation in the room mingled with the strains of the small orchestra in the salon.

Diego looked her in the eyes. “I wanted to ask you to marry me, to take you back to Brazil with me as my wife, but now …”

“Oh, Diego,” Amanda melted toward him. “Oh, Diego, but you can still ask me.”

“Would you marry me, Amanda? I love you so very much, you’re the most perfect woman I’ve ever met. You’re so beautiful and sensitive … and so talented. I wanted to invest in your shows so that my lovely wife could be a star—like Léonie.”

Amanda caught her breath. “Yes,” she breathed, “yes, I’ll marry you.”

“The trouble is,” said Diego, kissing her cheek as she glowed with happiness, “that at the moment I have very little money in France. I’m expecting a banker’s draft from my father, but there’s no time now to wait for the money to arrive from Brazil.” He shrugged apologetically and slumped back in his chair. “I can’t even afford to pay the passage of my future bride to take her home to Brazil with me.”

“But that’s all right, I have money, Diego. I can pay for myself.”

Diego sat stiffly in his chair. “As a gentleman I can’t possibly let you do that, Amanda.”

“But why ever not? We’re going to be married, aren’t we?”

His gaze met hers. “Would you really do that?” he murmured. “How lucky I am to find you. I didn’t know that any woman could be this perfect, this wonderful.”

Amanda wanted so badly to kiss him. He’d been such a gentleman and he thought her such a lady, he had never done more than just kiss her—yet. She imagined what it would be like, the two of them, naked in bed together.

“There is just the one other thing,” said Diego worriedly. “I have money tied up as a deposit in this business deal. If I leave now, without paying the balance, I’ll lose it. It’s only a small thing, but I hate to lose.”

“I told you not to worry,” said Amanda happily, snuggling her head into his shoulder. “I have some money, maybe it will be enough to help you.”

Diego slid his arm around her shoulder. “I love you, Amanda,”
he whispered, “and I want very much to kiss you, to hold you next to me.”

Her pretty face turned up to his and her parted lips waited.

“Not here,” he murmured, “it’s too public, my darling. Can we go to your room?”

He helped her on with her pretty lace jacket and picked up her purse, smiling goodnight to the waiter as they walked arm in arm through the restaurant to the foyer and the elevator.

It had been a busy day, but a satisfying one. His suitcase waited by the door and Diego cast a final glance around the room. He’d called Chez Martine, where Amanda was waiting for him, and left a message that he would be late and that she was to wait there for him. It made sure that he wouldn’t run into her on the way out of the hotel—after all he’d been through, he thought with a grin, it would be a pity to spoil it!

The porter came to take his luggage and Diego followed the man down the spacious corridor. This was a good hotel, he thought appreciatively; he’d use it next time he was in Paris. He pulled out the thin gold cigarette case and lit one of the strong French cigarettes he had acquired a taste for. The slender Cartier lighter felt good in his hands, and the emerald links gleamed again in his cuffs.

At the door he tipped the porter from a pleasantly stuffed wallet and climbed into the taxi that was to take him to the station. He would sail from Cherbourg that night.

Yes, he thought, settling back in the cab, it had been a very satisfying day. The newspaper office had been very cooperative in letting a Brazilian newspaperman look through their old files—and more than happy to translate for him. So now he knew. Amélie was illegitimate; not only that, it seemed doubtful that Charles d’Aureville was her father. “Monsieur” was. And Monsieur was the Duc de Courmont!

Well, well, well. It was a pity there was no way to get to the duc, he might have been able to make a little something there, but no one could see him. And besides, he was such a powerful personage that it was just a little intimidating. No, this information was best used against Amélie. He was back in the game again with Roberto. Diego laughed out loud suddenly and the taxi driver looked around, startled.

“It’s all right,” called Diego. “It’s just been a very good trip.”

–
• 65 •

Roberto picked up his jacket, patting the pocket to check that the letter was still there. It crackled reassuringly and he smiled as he flung the jacket over his shoulder, thinking how pleased Amélie was going to be. Or was she? He strolled along the path from the hotel to the villa. Maybe now that she was pregnant she might not be so pleased with the news. His footsteps slowed as he contemplated the possible problem. A pebble lay on the path in front of him and he kicked it aside impatiently. It had been a very long day and he needed a shower and a quick bite, and then he had some more work to do. Running the successful Hotel d’Aureville was a seven-day-a-week job, and he often worked late to catch up on paperwork. He simply had to get those figures checked tonight. “Roberto?”

Diego’s familiar mocking voice stopped him in his tracks. Roberto drew his eyes slowly from the path. Diego was smiling at him, every line of his face was imprinted on his memory, the strong green eyes, the dark brows, the wide full lips, and the thin spare body. Diego was smartly dressed: an immaculate shirt, a light linen jacket. He looked older.

“Aren’t you going to greet an old friend?” Diego stepped toward him, hands outstretched. “Let bygones be bygones?”

“What are you doing here?” The words seemed forced from Roberto’s harsh throat.

“I couldn’t stay away forever, Roberto. This is my home, too, you know.”

His heart seemed to be beating in double-time. “Sebastião warned you.…”

“Roberto, listen to me, please.” Diego held his arms open in supplication. “It’s been a long time. I can’t change what happened in the past, but I’m deeply ashamed of it. I was a young fool,
Roberto, and I did things, terrible things, but I’ve changed, I swear I have. I’ll never forgive myself for what happened, but I’m hoping you will.”

“I don’t want you here. I don’t want to see you … stay out of my life.” Roberto hunched his shoulders, feeling the sweat dripping down his chest. He wanted to pass Diego, but his old friend blocked the path, it would mean touching him.

“Roberto, I promise you I’m different. Sending me away like that was the best thing Sebastião could have done for me. I was away from all the old bad influences, out in the world on my own. I had to make good. I went to Colombia. I got a job there mining for emeralds. It was bloody hard work, Roberto, but I stuck with it, living like a pig in some remote frontier mining town—I was working out my prison sentence. I had to do it. I owed it to you for what I’d done. I came out of that experience a new man; I felt cleansed of the past.”

Roberto moved toward him, brushing aside Diego’s outstretched hand, flinching at the contact. “Stay away from me,” he muttered. “I don’t care where you’ve been, or how you’ve reformed.” He strode down the path, turning as he reached the corner. “And stay away from Amélie,” he warned. “If you go near her, Diego, I’ll kill you.”

Their gaze met along the length of the pathway. Diego flung his arms wide. “Roberto! How can you be like this! We were like brothers—more than brothers.” His smile held a thousand implications.

Roberto turned away and Diego watched him striding down the path. He shrugged. Well, if that was the way it was going to be, then he’d have to take a different line.

Onça lay in the corner of Amélie’s room, her head resting on her wide paws. The muscles of her sleek back twitched lazily as a fly bothered her; her amber eyes, almost the color of Amélie’s own, were half-closed as she watched her sleeping mistress.

Amélie stirred and Onça’s head lifted immediately. Her eyes waited to see what would happen and as Amélie swung her legs off the bed the cat rose to her feet and stretched.

“Hello, Onça.” Amélie yawned. “It’s time to get up. Roberto will be home soon.” She stroked the sleek tawny fur. “I’ll take you for a walk later,” she promised, “when it’s cooler.”

She dressed quickly and brushed her hair. It was later than she
had thought. She seemed to sleep so much better in the afternoons, it was the nights that gave her trouble. Not trouble really, she thought, patting her round belly, it was just that the baby chose the night to wake up. We’ll have to straighten that out once you’re born, she told it affectionately.

Onça padded down the stairs in Amélie’s wake and out onto the terrace. Her ears pricked up as the door opened and Roberto came in. He flung his jacket across a chair, poured himself a neat whiskey at the sideboard, and tossed it back quickly. God, that felt better. His hand was shaking as he put down the glass. He needed another.

“Roberto.” Amélie came in from the terrace. “I didn’t hear you come in, but Onça did—she doesn’t miss a thing.” She looked in surprise at the whiskey in his hand. Roberto rarely drank anything but wine. “Is something wrong?”

He forced a smile as he bent and kissed her. “Of course not, in fact, quite the opposite. If you look in my jacket pocket you’ll find a letter from Edouard.”

“From Edouard?” She picked up the jacket, rummaging eagerly through the pockets. It had been a few weeks since they’d heard from Xara and Edouard in Key West.

“I’ve been offered the job as assistant manager of the Palaçio d’Aureville in Miami when it opens next month,” said Roberto casually.

Amélie shrieked with delight. “But that’s
fantastic
—when do we leave?” She scanned the letter rapidly: the twins were wonderful, Xara was fine, Edouard was fine, the hotel was just about ready—at last—and it was superb, a credit to the d’Aurevilles. And they wanted Roberto to have the job—with a view ultimately to becoming manager. It was the best news in the world and Roberto was ready for it, she knew he was. He had worked so hard, he deserved the opportunity.

Roberto tossed back the second whiskey. “You don’t mind leaving Rio?”

Amélie looked thoughtful, it meant that her baby would be born in America. She grinned at him. “I don’t mind, Roberto, our baby will be a little American.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He dropped a kiss on her hair. “Look, I have a lot of work to do this evening, Amélie. I don’t really feel like any dinner. I’m going to shut myself in the study and get on
with it. Why don’t you go over to the hotel and have dinner with Grandmère?”