LEAD ME ON by Julie Ortolon (find a book to read TXT) 📕

the cash register. Hopping up onto the stool, she settled a clipboard on her lap to use as a desktop.

Chloe pulled the first doll out of the box and removed the protective plastic. Her eyes went wide as the doll stared back with movable glass eyes set in a hand-painted porcelain face. The doll’s rose-pink mouth formed a little pout and a hint of color had been brushed onto the cheeks. The green bonnet that sat atop the silky black curls matched the velvet spencer and bell-shaped skirt.

“Kids actually play with these things?” Chloe made a face. “How do they keep from messing them up?”

“Oh, they’re not to play with. They’re for collecting.”

“You mean like baseball cards?” Chloe asked.

“Something like that.” Alli smiled. “The name will be on the tag sewn into the back collar of the dress.”

Chloe turned the doll over and read the name. For a tomboy, she handled the dolls with surprising care, taking the time to fluff the dresses before setting them on the table. One doll in particular caught her attention. She held it awhile, studying the satin and lace ball gown that captured the romance of the Old South. “So, are these the kind of dresses Marguerite would have worn?”

“Um-hum.” Allison nodded. “Pretty, aren’t they?”

“I guess.” Chloe smirked, but her fingers lingered on the lacy trim. Allison suspected that when the girl hit sixteen, she’d be tossing out her baggy clothes in favor of form-fitting dresses, testing out lipstick and dabbing perfume behind her ears. The boys in New Orleans wouldn’t stand a chance. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I suppose.” Allison checked the name off the packing list.

“What was Captain Kingsley like?”

“Oh, let’s see.” Allison stared into space. “Marguerite describes him as tall, broad-shouldered. He had long, black hair that he wore in a queue—”

“A what?”

“A ponytail, tied with black ribbon.” Allison motioned toward her own nape.

“Like Adrian?” The girl’s eyes lit with interest.

Allison nodded. “He wore full-sleeved white shirts with lace spilling from the collar and cuffs and a dashing red coat. His tight black breeches were tucked inside tall black jackboots that came up to mid-thigh.”

“Wow,” Chloe breathed, as if her hormones had made another leap toward adulthood. Then she narrowed her eyes. “You’re making that up.”

“No, he was the quintessential captain of the high seas, only a lot cleaner and better smelling than most of the men who worked for LeRoche Shipping.” Alli wrinkled her nose at the girl, hoping for a laugh.

Chloe stared thoughtfully at the doll, her brow creased in a frown. “Was Henri really as mean as you say?”

“I’m afraid so.” Allison sighed. “He deceived Marguerite in every way. He overwhelmed her with romantic gestures the whole time he courted her, hiding his true nature until after they were married. Then he treated her as nothing more than a beautiful object for him to adorn in fine clothes and jewels and parade before the band of smugglers who worked for him.”

“Why didn’t she leave him?”

“Unfortunately, back then women had little or no recourse for escaping abusive marriages. She was a prisoner in this house. When Jack Kingsley came into her life, offering her acceptance, love, and understanding, she was afraid to trust him, to believe his love was real. She’d been lied to so often, she doubted him, and that was her downfall.”

“What do you mean?” Chloe reached in the box for another doll.

“If she’d trusted Jack Kingsley and run away with him when he first asked her to, or if he’d fought harder to convince her, they both could have lived to grow old together.”

“Why didn’t he fight harder, if he loved her?”

“I don’t know. That’s always puzzled me.”

“Maybe he was scared she didn’t really love him,” Chloe pointed out.

“I never thought of that.” Allison straightened. “But that’s so silly. She loved him desperately, which was why she was so scared. If his love had turned out to be false, it would have hurt her far worse than any of the other times people betrayed her.”

Chloe grew silent for a while. “Do you really believe in ghosts?”

“I don’t know.” Allison glanced about. “Sometimes I feel things inside this house, sorrow, regret, longing, and I wonder if it’s Marguerite’s emotions I’m feeling, or my own.”

Footsteps sounded in the hall, and she turned just as Scott appeared in the doorway. The sight of him quite simply stole the air from her lungs, as it did every time. He wore a short-sleeved dark print shirt hanging open over a black T-shirt and jeans. Her mouth watered at the thought of running her hands up under the T-shirt to feel his warm skin against her palms while she buried her nose in the crook of his neck and breathed in his scent.

“Hey, Chloe.” He waved. “I was wondering where you were.”

“Just here playing with dolls.” The girl held one up.

Scott’s eyes widened. “You feeling okay?”

“Yes.” The girl smirked at him.

“Oo-kay.” He turned to Alli. For one heart-stopping instant, their gazes held. She knew he saw the desire in her eyes and an answering hunger flickered in his own. Then the impersonal mask dropped over his features, breaking the connection. “I need to use the phone, if that’s all right.”

“Help yourself.” She watched him turn and cross the hall, all her earlier questions tumbling through her mind.

“Are you sleeping with my uncle?” The question took a second to register.

“Chloe!” The clipboard nearly slid off Allison’s lap. She grabbed for it, fumbled, then finally had it clasped to her chest. “You don’t ask things like that.”

Chloe looked at her with too much knowledge for such young eyes. “So, you are?”

“No!” she answered too quickly, and flushed with guilt. Then realized it wasn’t a lie. Outside of her daydreams and nighttime fantasies, they hadn’t been together since that one night. “Even if I were, you simply don’t ask people such things.”

“I just wondered, is all.” Chloe shrugged. “I see the way you look at him, and I figured you were after him. Lots