When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(13)

“I didn’t come here for that,” Max said, disentangling himself from her grasp.

Mariame went to pour him a drink. “Then what are you here for, Max?”

“I don’t know.” He walked around the room restlessly.

“Sit, please, ma cher. It makes me nervous to see you pace like a hungry tiger.”

Max complied, sitting on the settee with a brooding, unfocused stare.

Mariame settled comfortably on the sofa beside him, her long, sleek legs dangling carelessly over one of his thighs. She handed him a snifter of brandy. “Perhaps this will help to relax you.”

He took the glass and drank deeply, barely noticing the fine vintage.

Mariame’s fingers walked up his thigh on a path they had often frequented before. “Are you sure you do not want to—”

“No,” he muttered, brushing her hand away.

Mariame shrugged. “D’accord.” A sly, interested smile touched her lips. “Alors, you might tell me more about this woman staying at the house.”

Max gave her a sardonic glance, realizing that the rumors had spread even more quickly than he had expected. “The twins encountered Mademoiselle Kersaint as she was trying to flee from an undesired marriage.”

“Ah.” Mariame’s sleek brows lifted expressively. “Not many women would dare to do such a thing. Who is her intended, bien-aimée?“

“Etienne Sagesse.”

Her playful fingers stilled on the edge of his shoulder. “Sagesse…bon Dieu. How odd that the girl should come to you, of all people, for refuge. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to take advantage of the situation, naturally.”

Her smooth forehead creased with concern. “Be careful, Max. I know that you would stop at nothing to repay Sagesse for what he did all those years ago. But you would come to regret it if you resorted to abusing an innocent in your care.” A fond smile touched her lips. “You do have a conscience, cher, though you try to pretend otherwise.”

A reluctant grin crossed Max’s face. “I’m glad you think so.” He leaned his head back and stared at the cypress-paneled ceiling above. “Mariame,” he said, abruptly changing the subject, “you know that I would never end our relationship without providing for you.”

“I have never feared that you would leave me destitute,” Mariame replied calmly. Was this, perhaps, the first sign that his interest in her was waning? “Someday,” she continued, “I would like to run my own boardinghouse. I would be quite successful at it.”

“Yes, you would.”

“Should I begin to make plans for it?”

“Someday. If that’s what you want.” He caressed her cheek lightly. “But not yet.”

———

Thursday was the Vallerands’ usual at-home day, when Irénée’s friends and acquaintances came to visit and chat over a cup of strong chicory-laced coffee. Unfortunately Irénée had been forced to turn away visitors because of Lysette’s presence.

“I am sorry to disrupt your usual habits,” Lysette said.

Irénée shushed her cheerfully. “Non, non, we will have coffee together, just the two of us. Right now I find your company far more diverting than that of my friends, who bring the same gossip to chew over week after week. You must tell me all about your mother, and about your friends in Natchez, and about your beaux.”

“Actually, madame, I have led a very secluded life. My sister and I were not allowed to have beaux. In fact, we seldom associated with even our male cousins or relatives.”

Irénée nodded in understanding. “By standards nowadays, that is an old-fashioned upbringing. But it was that way with me. I never read a newspaper until after I was married. I knew nothing of the outside world. It was frightening when the time came to leave the cocoon of my family and assume my place as Victor Vallerand’s wife.” Irénée smiled, her eyes soft with amusement as she remembered the girl she had once been. “My tante Marie and my mother accompanied me to my marriage bed and left me there alone to wait for my, husband. Oh, how I begged them to take me back home! I did not want to be a wife at all, much less the wife of a Vallerand. Victor was a big bear of a man, and very intimidating. I was terrified of what he would require of me.”

Intrigued, Lysette set down her cup. “Evidently it turned out well,” she remarked.

Irénée chuckled. “Yes, Victor proved to be a kind husband. I soon fell deeply in love with him. The Vallerand men are deceptive, you see. Outwardly they are quite masterful and arrogant. However, when managed by the right woman, a Vallerand will go to any lengths to please her.” Picking up an engraved silver spoon, Irénée stirred more sugar into her cup. “There,” she said with satisfaction. “I like my coffee black as the devil and sweet as sin.”

“Madame,” Lysette asked casually, sipping her own coffee, “what was your son’s wife like? In your opinion, did she manage him properly?”

The question made Irénée visibly tense. She hesitated a long time before replying. “Corinne was the most beautiful and spoiled girl I have ever encountered… much too concerned about herself to be able to love anyone else. She did not manage Max well at all. And the pity is, it would have taken very little for her to make him happy.”