Free Leonie by Elizabeth Adler Page A

himself.
    He moved toward his prey. “Gilles.” Alphonse was surprised; de Courmont usually didn’t make a point of asking to be introduced. “This is Mademoiselle Léonie Bahri.”
    She was beautiful, perfect. Léonie blushed under his intense gaze; tension crackled between them as he gripped her hand. It was strangely exciting, and it left her feeling breathless, shaky.
    “I came to thank you for your hospitality,” he said to Alphonse, “but I’m afraid I must leave. I’m off to London first thing in the morning.” He bowed to Léonie. “I’m happy to have met you, Mademoiselle Léonie.” Their eyes met again, briefly. She licked her lips nervously.
    “Does he ever smile?” she whispered to Alphonse as de Courmont walked away.
    “Yes,” Alphonse replied, “when he’s winning.”
    Rupert fretted impatiently next to the girl in the blue dress. Caro had asked him specifically to look after her and he had no choice but to do so. They were surrounded now by a crowd of young people, but it was late, and the party was beginning to thinout. Where was Léonie? He couldn’t see her anywhere. Damn it, how could Caro do this to him!
    De Courmont signaled to Verronet, his personal assistant, who was waiting by the door.
    “Find out who she is,” murmured de Courmont to Verronet. “I need to know where she comes from, where she lives, what she does … what she needs.…”
    Verronet knew what he meant. He’d done it all before. It wasn’t the Duc de Courmont’s way to compete openly with other men, either in business or in his private affairs. His was a more devious, more subtly binding approach. He would find out what a person needed—money, fame, sexual perversions—and then he would use the knowledge to undermine his adversaries, to put them in a more vulnerable position, ready for him to make his move. His adversaries didn’t stand a chance—and he always treated women as adversaries. It was never a matter of love with de Courmont. He knew everyone had a price. And he loved the challenge best of all.
    Léonie accepted her old brown wool coat from the butler and walked slowly down the marble stairs into the freezing night. She didn’t feel the cold, she didn’t feel anything. All the elation had left her. Rupert had deserted her for the girl in blue—all he had said, all she had felt had meant nothing. Had he just been flirting with her? Was that what flirting was? She had lingered for half an hour alone in the cloakroom telling herself that if he didn’t talk to her this time when she walked past, she would leave. He hadn’t even noticed her. No one had noticed her as she left. She’d looked around for the tall man with the piercing gaze, but then she remembered he had left earlier. Perhaps he’d been meeting some exciting and beautiful woman, taking her to supper and then back to his apartment—and his bed. She shivered. He looked that sort of man, older, experienced—a little frightening. The sound of music and laughter drifted into the night. It was a long way home through the frozen streets.
    “Léonie!” She swung around, her face lighting up with a ray of hope. “Léonie, it’s me, Maroc.” He stood on the sidewalk holding open the door of a cab. “I thought you might not have enough money to get home, so I got Lanson to come here and wait with me.… It’s all right,” he added. “He’s a friend of mine. I oftentake his cab from Serrat when I have to deliver things, I sometimes do him a favor and he helps me.”
    “Oh, Maroc.” She was torn between being glad to see him and wishing he had been Rupert. “How kind you are. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
    Maroc had been worried about her all evening, and looking at her now he knew he had had good reason. She didn’t look like a girl who’d been to a wonderful party; in fact, he thought she might cry. “Are you all right?” he asked anxiously.
    “Yes, Maroc, I’m all right, I’m just tired, that’s