When Strangers Marry (7 page)

In the past three days she had tried to put some distance between them. She no longer allowed him to help bathe her or comb and braid her hair, and only Noeline and Irénée were permitted to help her dress.

However, as Max lifted her in his arms and carried her downstairs, the treacherous feelings of closeness remained. It did not help that he was being so gentle and attentive. She could almost let herself forget that he had betrayed her and was certainly planning to manipulate her further.

Reminding herself that she could not let herself be stupid enough to trust him again, Lysette gave him a suspicious frown.

“What is it?” he asked, shifting her slight weight in his arms. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No,” she replied, keeping her arms linked around his neck. “I am merely wondering what your game is, monsieur.”

He gave her a blank look. “Game?”

Lysette rolled her eyes at the show of innocence. “The game I have become a pawn in. The one you are playing with Etienne Sagesse. Clearly you had no intention of letting me appeal to my cousin for refuge. You wanted to keep me here, and you’ve succeeded. Now tell me what your plan is.”

“We won’t discuss that until you’re better,” he muttered.

“You may as well admit it,” she said. “I’ve already figured out what you want, and how you plan to get it.”

“Oh?” A hot flicker entered his eyes. “Tell me what you think I want.”

Before Lysette could answer, he set her carefully on the settee, and Noeline was there to drape a lap blanket over her knees.

Vallerand began to release her, and Lysette felt a painful tug on her scalp. A few strands of her hair had caught in one of his coat buttons. Realizing what had happened, he and Lysette reached for the button at the same time. Their fingers caught together, and Lysette recoiled in confusion.

The warm puff of his breath against her cheek unloosed
a blaze of sensations that stunned her. With a dreamlike slowness she let her hands fall, while her heart hammered in her breast. Carefully Vallerand freed the tiny snarl of hair, dismantling the silken bond that had held them together. His scent floated to her nostrils, the intoxicating salty maleness that made her want to press her open mouth to his skin. Her response to him was so carnal and deep that she shrank away from him, shocked at herself.

Vallerand continued to lean over her, one arm braced on the back of the rosewood settee, the other hand resting close to her hip. “Don’t be afraid of me,” he said, mistaking the alarm in her gaze.

“Afraid of you?” she whispered dazedly. “You’re the last man in the world I would be afraid of.”

The words seemed to jolt him. His breath quickened, and he stared at her as if he didn’t dare believe her.

Irénée entered the room, her voice penetrating the spellbinding silence. “Lysette, how do you feel this morning?”

Max’s peculiar expression vanished. “She’s fine,” he said curtly, striding to the door. “I’ll be in the library.”

As he left, Irénée looked after him and shook her head. “He has behaved so oddly of late.”

Lysette sighed, reflecting that her illness had been only a temporary reprieve from whatever plans Maximilien had concocted. “Madame,” she said slowly, “certainly you must know that Monsieur Vallerand never sent the letter to my cousin Marie.”

Irénée frowned. “Lysette, we should wait until you are stronger to discuss—”

“He planned to dishonor me, didn’t he?” Lysette laced her fingers together over her midriff. “Well, I have been here long enough to ensure that my reputation is in shreds, regardless of your presence. My guess is that no one would believe I could stay under Maximilien Vallerand’s roof for this long with my honor intact. Will Sagesse demand a duel now? That is how any Creole would respond,
n’est-ce pas?
Obviously it has all turned out the way your son wanted.”

Irénée was silent for a long time. “Lysette,” she finally said, “it is still not too late for you to be returned to Sagesse. If that is what you wish, I will see that it is done.”

Lysette shook her head. “Good Lord, no. I would become a streetwalker before I went back to him.”

The older woman was clearly startled by the frank statement. She was spared from replying by Noeline’s arrival in the doorway. “Madame,” the housekeeper said, rolling her eyes heavenward, “it is Monsieur Medart—he wants to take Mademoiselle Lysette away with him.”

L
ysette damned her own physical weakness as her stepfather and Tante Delphine entered the room. The impulse to leap from the settee and run was uncontrollable, but she knew she wouldn’t make it five yards before collapsing.

“Lysette,” Gaspard said calmly, a smile on his lips. The expression in his eyes, however, was one of undiluted hatred. Her marriage to Etienne Sagesse was the only thing that stood between him and financial ruin, and she had almost succeeded in sabotaging his plans. “You are fortunate, you foolish girl. Sagesse still wants you, regardless of all that has happened. The marriage will take place as planned. Now that you are better, you will come with me.”

“The marriage will never take place,” Lysette said. “I would have thought that would be clear to you by now.”

“Lysette,” Tante Delphine exclaimed, hurrying forward in a display of maternal affection. “There, there,
enfant
. We have come to take care of you. Certainly you do not wish to be a burden to these strangers any longer. I would have expected you to be more considerate than that.” She caressed the side of Lysette’s face with her plump hand and tucked the lap blanket more tightly around her.

Lysette realized guiltily that Delphine had a point. She had indeed been a burden to the Vallerands. Moreover, she had no wish to be the unwitting instrument of Vallerand’s destruction. If a duel did result from this, there was a possibility that Sagesse would manage to wound or even kill him. Somehow that thought was too awful to contemplate.

“Lysette,” Irénée said sympathetically, astonishing them all, “perhaps you should go with them. It might be the wisest course of action.”

“Yes, it would,” Gaspard added, his swarthy face losing its thunderous cast. “Your sensible attitude pleases me, Madame Vallerand.”

“We must consider Lysette’s welfare,” Irénée replied cautiously.

“Clearly Madame Vallerand recognizes the impropriety of your presence under this roof,” Gaspard interrupted, reaching for Lysette. “
Allons
, Lysette. There is a carriage waiting outside, the finest carriage you have ever seen. The Sagesses have anticipated everything you might require.” He picked her up easily, his beefy arms crushing her struggles. Lysette was unable to move or breathe in
his crushing hold. “You’re going to pay for the trouble you’ve caused me,” he said close to her ear, a mist of hot spittle spraying her skin.

Swamped in despair, she shoved at him. “Max,” she cried, wondering frantically why he wasn’t there. Hadn’t anyone told him that her aunt and stepfather had arrived? “Max—”

The world seemed to tilt crazily, and she heard a strange low growl that most certainly had not come from Gaspard. An unseen force wrenched her upward, away from her stepfather’s brutal grasp, and momentum brought her hard against Vallerand’s unyielding chest. She grabbed at him immediately, her arms wrapping around his familiar neck. She buried her face against his throat. “He’s going to take me to Sagesse,” she gasped. “Don’t let him, don’t—”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Vallerand interrupted brusquely. “Calm yourself, Lysette. It’s not good for you to become excited.” His possessiveness made her strangely giddy. As far as he was concerned, she was his, and no one was going to take her away from him.

Gently Vallerand set her on a chair and straightened, his steady gaze fastened on Gaspard. “Don’t touch her again,” he murmured. Although his voice was soft, it contained a note that chilled Lysette’s blood. “If you so much as disarrange a hair on her head, I’ll tear you apart.”

“She is mine!” Gaspard exploded, staring at them both in incredulous fury.

Lysette returned his gaze with cool satisfaction.
Max was going to take her part in the dispute, because it served his purpose to keep her here. She would let him handle the situation however he liked. She didn’t give a damn about her ruined reputation, or about the fact that Max was using her. The only thing that mattered was that she wouldn’t have to marry Etienne Sagesse.

Gaspard spoke to her directly, his face apoplectic. “Sagesse has said that if you are not returned by this afternoon, he
will not have you.
He will consider you defiled! Do you understand, you stupid fool?
No one
will want you. You’ll be useless to me, because no decent man will ever offer for you. You will not only have blemished your own name, but also Sagesse’s honor, and this is exactly what Monsieur Vallerand intends. You are nothing but an excuse for him to finish a feud that began years ago. Once it is done, you will have no hope of anything close to the life you might have led as the wife of a Sagesse. Save yourself, Lysette. Come with me now and end this madness!”

Lysette was suddenly exhausted. Her lips curved with a bitter smile as she spoke to Max. “Monsieur Vallerand, everything he says is true,
nest-ce pas
?”

He remained facing away from her. “Yes,” he said bluntly.

She received the admission without surprise. “What had you planned to do with me when your game is over?”

“Repay you for the opportunity you afforded me,” he replied, with no visible trace of shame. “Provide for you in whatever manner you wish.
You will find that my gratitude for the chance to duel with Sagesse will prove boundless.”

His arrogance was so vast that she could not prevent a wry smile. “What has he done to earn such enmity, monsieur?”

Vallerand did not reply.

Thoughtfully Lysette considered her options. “I am weary of being exploited,” she said to no one in particular. Her gaze settled on her stepfather. “
Beaupère
, I’m afraid that you will have to return to Sagesse without me. Now that I have no more value on the marriage market, perhaps you will find some other way to make money. As for you, Monsieur Vallerand…you are welcome to your duel with Monsieur Sagesse. Congratulations—you have what you want.”

“But what will you do, Lysette?” Irénée asked, her face drawn with concern.

“As soon as I am able, I would like to be taken to the Ursuline convent. Although I have no intention of becoming a nun, I am certain that they will offer me shelter until I decide what to do. I suspect I might be able to find work as governess, or perhaps teach somewhere.” She extended a hand to Noeline, who had watched the entire episode from the doorway. “Please help me upstairs,” she asked with quiet dignity.

Lysette’s hair was still damp after a thorough washing during her bath. Carefully Noeline separated the tangles and began to comb the matted locks, while Irénée sat nearby and looked out the window.
The afternoon sunlight shone on the oak trees lining the drive, filtering to the damp ground beneath. Irénée watched as Max rode away from the house on his black thoroughbred. When she was assured that there was no chance of his return, Irénée turned to Lysette and spoke softly.

“You have a right to know, Lysette, what happened between Max and Etienne Sagesse. It will help you to understand my son better, and perhaps even to forgive him a little. He is not nearly as wicked and selfish as he seems. When Max was younger, he exceeded all the hopes his father and I had for him. He was a wild boy, to be sure, often given to mischief, but also warm and kind, and full of charm. Nearly every woman in New Orleans, young or old, matron or maiden, was in love with him. His downfall,
naturellement
, was a woman.

“Corinne Quérand was the daughter of a highly respectable family in New Orleans. Max was your age when he married her. So young, in fact, that he was not able to see the real woman beneath the beautiful facade. The first year of their marriage Corinne gave Max the twins, and he was overcome with joy. It seemed that they would be very happy together, but then…” Irénée paused and shook her head regretfully.

“What happened?” Lysette demanded.

“Corinne changed. Or perhaps she now allowed her true nature to be revealed. The beautiful mask dropped away, and she began to discard her morals and self-respect as garments she was simply tired of wearing. Corinne had no interest in her children.
She wanted to hurt Max,
alors
, she took a lover. I think, Lysette, that you can guess who that was.”

Lysette swallowed hard. “Etienne Sagesse.”

“
Oui, c’etait lui.
Corinne flaunted her indiscretion with Etienne in Maximilien’s face. She knew Max still loved her, and that drove her to such cruelty…
Mon Dieu
, my son suffered as no mother would ever want to see her child suffer. He desired to call Etienne out, but his pride would not let him admit before the world that his wife had been unfaithful to him.”

Noeline secured Lysette’s hair at the nape of her neck and moved to hand Irénée a handkerchief.

“
Merci
, Noeline,” Irénée said, swabbing at her moist eyes. “Anyone could understand why it would happen. Corinne had tortured Max with his own feelings for her, until he couldn’t stop himself. It was justified, wasn’t it, Noeline?”

“
Oui, madame.
”

“What happened?” Lysette asked, although she already knew.

Noeline was the one who replied. “Madame Corinne was found in the empty overseer’s house, set back in the woods. She was strangled.”

“Max claimed that he found her that way,” Irénée said. “He insisted that he didn’t kill her, but he had no alibi. The authorities considered the circumstances and chose to be lenient. They can on occasion be persuaded to look the other way, especially in the matter of an unfaithful wife. The duel with Etienne never took place. Max continued to insist he was innocent, but no one had faith in his claim.
His friends proved to be unsteadfast, and Max was left alone with his grief. I was certain that after time had passed he would recover and become something like his former self. But the bitterness consumed him. He became incapable of expressing affection, of trusting anyone, of allowing himself to care for anyone except his sons.”

“Madame, do you believe in his innocence?” Lysette asked.

Irénée paused an unbearably long time. “I am his mother,” she finally answered.

Lysette frowned, thinking that didn’t quite sound like a yes. “Perhaps there was someone else who had reason to kill her?”

“No one else,” Irénée said with terrible certainty.

Lysette tried to imagine Maximilien Vallerand putting his powerful hands around a woman’s throat and choking the life from her. It was impossible to reconcile that image with her knowledge of the man who had cared for her when she was ill. She could accept that Vallerand was ruthless, not to mention manipulative. But a murderer? Somehow she couldn’t make herself believe it.

“Max must be pitied,” Irénée said. “Now you understand why Max saw you as the means to force Etienne into a duel. He regards it as his opportunity to avenge the past. I have little doubt that he will kill Etienne. Perhaps then Maximilien will be able to put the entire tragedy to rest.”

“Or,” Lysette murmured, “your son will simply have more blood on his hands.”

*   *   *

Irénée could not help but be gratified by the number of visitors she received on Thursday. All her female friends and relatives came from far and wide, eagerly seeking information on the most thrilling gossip to be passed around in years. The controversy had spread to every corner of New Orleans. It was obvious a duel was forthcoming. Everyone knew that Maximilien Vallerand had virtually stolen Etienne Sagesse’s fiancée from under his nose and ruined her.

“The rumors are untrue,” Irénée said placidly, reigning over the crowd in the parlor like a queen, handing around plates of cakes and
langues de chat
, tiny pastries that dissolved on the tongue. “How can anyone believe my son could assault the virtue of a girl living under my roof? Not only was I there to chaperone her, but she was ill with fever! I myself nursed her through it!”

Four gray, lace-capped heads nodded together. Claire and Nicole Laloux, Marie-Therese Robert, and Fleurette Grenet were Irénée’s staunchest friends, supporting her through the most dire circumstances. Even in the dark days of Corinne Quérand’s murder, they had not stopped paying calls and had never thought to withdraw their friendship. Irénée was a gentle and generous woman, and everyone knew her to be a lady of the highest refinement. Her son, on the other hand…

Still, most Creoles tolerated Maximilien. The Vallerands had been a significant New Orleans family for decades. Regardless of his shameful past, he was invited to the important social events of the
year…but not to the small, intimate family gatherings, where real attachments were formed and deepened.

“We all know you would
never
have condoned anything improper, Irénée,” spoke up Catherine Gauthier, a young matron who was friends with some of the younger Vallerand cousins. “But the poor girl has been ruined just the same. The fact is, she has spent more than two weeks under the same roof with Maximilien, who is undeniably the city’s most notorious…gentleman. No one blames Etienne Sagesse for not wanting her now.”

Everyone murmured agreement, held out their cups to be filled with more coffee, finished the last crumbs of pastry, and began on a new plate.

“Of course there will be a duel now,” Marie-Therese said. “It is the only recourse left to Sagesse. Otherwise his honor would be forever besmirched.”

“Yes, everyone knows that,” Fleurette said, daintily dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. She assumed an expression of objective interest. “Irénée, what did Maximilien do to make this girl decide to stay here rather than return to Sagesse?”

“He did nothing at all,” Irénée said primly.

Claire and Fleurette looked at each other knowingly. It was obvious the girl had been seduced. Either that or she had been threatened with violence. Maximilien was such a wicked man!

A native of Virginia, William Charles Coles Claiborne was only eight-and-twenty when President
Jefferson appointed him the first American governor of the Orleans Territory. Although Creoles had been opposed to him, it was a coalition of money-hungry Americans and French refugees who constituted the greatest threat to Claiborne’s administration.