Only With Your Love (Vallerands #2)(48)

Max’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Yes, it is true, Lieutenant.”

Benedict regarded him with suspicion. “Who is it? A relative? Or a close friend?”

“A relative.” Max met his eyes without flinching. “My son, in fact.”

Benedict’s color deepened with excitement. “Really,” he said, obviously fighting to stay calm.

No! Celia wanted to cry out, unable to believe Max was betraying Justin. Telling Benedict that Justin was here was tantamount to signing his death warrant!

“He was brought here in the dead of night several days ago,” Max continued, “suffering from severe wounds inflicted during his escape from a pirate island.” He glanced at the two women nearby. Lysette was staring at him steadily, while Celia had turned parchment-white. Taking a deep breath, Max plunged headlong into the deception he had hoped would not be necessary. “It is indeed a miracle,” Max said to the lieutenant, “that my Philippe has been returned to us.”

There was a moment of frozen stillness. Celia could not even think.

“Philippe,” Benedict repeated, aghast.

Max nodded matter-of-factly. “Yes.”

“But Philippe is dead!”

“We assumed the pirates had killed him,” Max said. “But he managed to survive the attack and four subsequent months of captivity. You are the first to know the good news, Lieutenant. Philippe is alive.”

Benedict switched his incredulous gaze to Celia. “Is this true, madame?” he demanded.

Celia nodded jerkily, too stunned to speak. Somehow she had the wits to avert her face and hide her astonishment. Her mind was reeling. It was all some joke, some cruel joke. She wondered if Maximilien had gone mad. Did he think he could deceive anyone with this foolish lie? All the lieutenant had to do was go upstairs and look at Justin to know he was not Philippe. How much time did Max think he could buy with this ploy?

She felt Lysette’s arm slide around her shoulders. “You can imagine the strain and shock this has been for Philippe’s wife,” Lysette said to Benedict. “As you can see, she is terribly distressed by his condition. He nearly died from his wounds. She has exhausted herself these past days in caring for him.”

Benedict stood up, looking pale. “I would like to see him now.”

“I’m afraid that is impossible,” Max said, also standing up. He towered over the lieutenant. “Philippe is too ill to see anyone.”

“It is necessary that I ascertain if—”

“Later,” Max interrupted, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He looked so forbidding that the younger man instinctively took a step backward. “Perhaps in a few days. When he is stronger.”

“I must see him now. There is information he may have concerning the pirate island and the men who captured him.”

“Philippe is not able to speak with anyone. He has been in a delirium for several days. He has also been blinded. Whether or not the condition is permanent is still in question. He needs rest, and plenty of it.”

“I will not pose any questions to him. But I insist on seeing for myself if—”

“This is my house, my property. You are in no position to insist on anything, Lieutenant. My son has been through enough without being made an exhibition of to satisfy your curiosity. I will not allow him to be seen by anyone in his present condition.”

“Monsieur Vallerand,” Benedict said, “I know what honor means to you Creoles. Are you prepared to give me your word of honor that the man upstairs is Philippe Vallerand?”

Max stared at him coldly. “That you would dare ask it of me is an insult.”

The lieutenant stiffened, apparently just realizing that he had affronted the most renowned and lethal duelist in Louisiana. Duels were frowned upon but still widely practiced here. For a hot-tempered Creole, there was no remedy for an insult except a contest of swords or pistols. “I did not intend it as an insult, monsieur, not in the least. Forgive me.”

Max nodded shortly. “If you must have it, I give you my word of honor that the man upstairs is my son Philippe.”

Benedict drew in a shaky breath. “It is unbelievable. Why have you not let it be known before now?”

Lysette replied, her arm still around Celia’s back. Celia wanted to shake it off in irritation but did not dare, conscious of the lieutenant’s prying stare. “Our only thought has been for Philippe,” Lysette said. “We did not wish to contend with hordes of visitors—well-meaning though they might be—all crowding inside the house and demanding our attention and explanations.”

“Has he been seen to by a doctor?” Benedict asked.

“He is being given the best of care,” Lysette assured him.

Benedict looked from Lysette’s pleasant face to Max’s implacable one, and lastly at Celia’s downbent head. “I must report this to Commander Matthews immediately,” he said. “I have no doubt he will require that Philippe be questioned as soon as possible.”

“Not until my son’s health permits,” Max replied.

“Excuse me, I must leave at once.”

“I will see you to the door.”

The two men left the room. Celia lifted her head and stared at Lysette.

Lysette withdrew her arm and folded her hands together. “I told you Max would think of something.” She tried to sound confident, but the effort was not convincing.