When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(25)

Where was Maximilien now? He had appeared earlier in the day, then left without partaking of supper. Noeline had hinted archly that he was visiting his mistress. The idea had caused a perplexing emotion to spill inside Lysette’s chest. “I don’t care if he has a hundred women,” she said to herself, but the words sounded false to her ears.

She could not stop her imagination from alighting on thoughts of Max with his mistress at this very moment. What would a man say to a woman when he knew he might die the next day? Lysette’s eyes half closed as she pictured a woman with an unseen face leading Max to her bed, her slender h*ps swaying in invitation, her hand caught in his. And Max looking down with a sardonic smile, his head lowering as he stole a kiss, his hands moving to unfasten her clothes. I had to spend my last night with you, he might be whispering. Put your arms around me…. And as the woman arched up to him, her head falling back willingly, Lysette imagined her own face tilted upward, her own arms stealing around his broad back…

“Ah, Mon Dieu, what am I doing?” she whispered, pressing her hands to the sides of her head to force out the wicked thoughts.

“Mademoiselle!” Philippe’s voice interrupted her, and Lysette looked up as he approached. Justin followed at a slower pace, sauntering in a way that reminded her of his father.

“Why so downcast?” Philippe inquired, his blue eyes dancing with exhilaration. “Are you not pleased that mon père will be dueling for the sake of your honor tomorrow?”

“Pleased?” she repeated. “How could I be pleased? It is dreadful.”

“But it is the highest compliment that can be paid a woman. Just imagine what it will be like, the clashing swords, the blood, all for your sake!”

“The duel is not being fought for her sake,” Justin said flatly, his blue eyes locked on her pale face. “Isn’t that true, Lysette?”

“Yes,” she said flatly. “That is true.”

“What?” Philippe looked puzzled. “But of course the duel is over you. That is what everyone says.”

“Idiot,” Justin muttered, and sat on the sofa beside Lysette, seeming to understand her fear. “He won’t lose, you know. He never does.”

“What happens to your father is not my concern,” she said calmly.

“Isn’t it? Then why are you waiting and watching for his return?”

“I am not!”

“Yes, you are. And you might wait all night. Sometimes he doesn’t come back until dawn. You do know who he is with, oui?”

“No, and I don’t…” Lysette’s voice trailed off, and she flushed. “Who?”

Philippe broke in angrily, “Justin, do not tell her!”

“He is with Mariame,” Justin said, giving Lysette a knowing smile. “She’s been his placée for years. But he doesn’t love her.”

Lysette swallowed back more questions with extreme difficulty. “I don’t care to hear any more,” she said, and Justin gave a jeering laugh.

“You would love to hear more,” he said, “but I won’t tell you.”

Suddenly there was a feminine cry of outrage from upstairs. “Justin! Philippe! Ah, the mischief you have done! Come here immédiatement!”

When Justin made no move to rise from the sofa, Philippe tugged impatiently at his sleeve. “Justin, come now! Grand-mère is calling us!”

“Go see what she wants,” Justin said lazily.

Philippe’s blue eyes narrowed with annoyance. “Not without you!” He waited while Irénée called, but Justin continued to sit calmly without stirring. Making an exasperated noise, Philippe left the room.

Lysette folded her arms and regarded the boy in front of her with all the cynicism she could dredge up. “Is there something else you want to tell me?” she asked.

“I wondered if you knew the story of what my father did to my mother,” Justin said idly.

He was a wicked boy, Lysette thought, and yet she felt sorry for him. It must be terrible to live with such a suspicion of his own father, terrible to know that his mother had been an adulteress.

“It’s not necessary to tell me,” she said. “It has nothing to do with me.”

“Oh, but it does,” Justin countered. “You see, my father is going to marry you.”

Her breath was driven out of her lungs in a whoosh. She looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “No, he isn’t!”

“Don’t be stupid. Why else would Grand-mère allow him to compromise you, if she wasn’t assured he will make the proper amends?”

“I’m not going to marry anyone.”

Justin laughed. “We’ll see. My father always gets what he wants.”

“He doesn’t want me,” Lysette persisted. “All he wants is revenge. The duel with Monsieur Sagesse.”

“You’ll be a Vallerand before the week is out,” the boy predicted. “Unless, of course, he is defeated— and he won’t be.”

———

The scratch of a quill on thin parchment was the only sound in the room as Etienne Sagesse bent over the small desk. Word after scrawling word filled the ivory sheet, while the face above it turned ruddy with effort.

Carefully he blotted the letter, folded and sealed it, then held it in his hands with exceeding lightness, as if it were a delicate weapon. For just an instant a long-forgotten softness appeared in his turquoise eyes, while old memories danced before him.