When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(31)

She stopped with a gasp as she saw the two tall figures of her younger sons. Alexandre and Bernard were home.

“My sons,” she exclaimed in disbelief, “what are you doing here?”

The two tall, dark-haired brothers glanced at each other, and then back at her. Alexandre replied in a quizzical tone. “I was under the impression that we lived here, Maman.”

“Yes, but… you have returned a bit sooner than I expected.”

“We decided we had seen enough of France,” Bernard said dryly. “Those Fontaine daughters, Maman…Bon Dieu, some of our horses are more attractive than the choicest of the lot.”

“Bernard, how uncharitable! I am certain that you exaggerate.”

Alexandre was turning slow circles, gazing at the flower-bedecked house. “What is all this?” he asked in bewilderment. “Has someone died?”

———

While Lysette was safely tucked away upstairs having her hair arranged, the Vallerands drew together for a family conference in the parlor. Rumpled, dusty, and weary from the long journey, Alexandre and Bernard stared at their mother and older brother in disbelief.

“You are going to be married?“ Alexandre exclaimed, leaning his hip on the back of the settee and folding his lanky arms across his chest. He snickered and looked at Max, who favored him with a cool stare. “Of all things I had expected to find on my arrival…” For some reason, the sight of his oldest brother clad in wedding finery tickled Alex’s fancy. He had always been the most irreverent of Irénée’s sons. “Bien sûr, he’s finally been caught!” He choked with laughter, until even Bernard’s sober demeanor cracked with a smile.

“I fail to see what is so amusing,” Max said with a scowl.

Alexandre had nearly fallen to the floor by now. “I would like to know what kind of woman managed to drag you to the altar! Did she use a very big club?”

Bernard regarded Max more seriously. “Who is she? Not anyone we know, I would guess. You’ve never given a second glance to any of the women around here.”

Irénée answered for him. “Lysette is a girl of excellent family, from Natchez. Te souviens de Jeanne Magnier? Max’s bride is Jeanne’s daughter.”

“A Magnier?” Bernard repeated, looking at Max speculatively. “An attractive family, as I recall. I would wager there was little need for her to carry a club.”

Max smiled unexpectedly. “She has many virtues, beauty among them.”

“She must be remarkable indeed for you to risk marriage again,” Bernard remarked.

They were all quiet for a moment, remembering that other wedding so many years ago.

Irénée broke the spell by speaking briskly. “Lysette will make Max very happy, you will see. Finally the past is behind us.”

———

Lysette’s hand shook so badly that Max could hardly slide the gold band onto her finger. Although they both desired to be wed, the ceremony was not an especially joyful occasion. Max was tense and grim-faced, and his hand was strangely cold. Lysette had no doubt that he was remembering his first wedding, and the tragedy that had haunted him ever since. He probably feared the possibility that his second marriage would become a living hell just as the first had.

For her part, Lysette struggled to overcome her own doubts. The words she spoke would chain her forever to the man beside her. Legally Maximilien Vallerand would have the power to punish, abuse, or subject her to any whim, no matter how irrational. In the context of Creole culture, he had what amounted to the power of life or death over her.

She could only hope that her judgment of him had been correct. Perhaps she was mad, to place herself in the possession of a man she knew so little. However, she reminded herself pragmatically that most brides and grooms were virtual strangers, matches being made by parents who rarely asked for their approval.

Incense lent its sweet, pungent scent to the air as Lysette knelt before the priest and prayed for God’s blessing on the marriage. When she was finished, she placed her hands in Max’s and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

But while the ceremony had been small, the wedding feast was attended by more guests than Lysette could count. She even lost sight of Max, who was monopolized by crowds of relatives. Lysette stayed by Irénée’s side, trying to ignore the snatches of conversation she heard as the woman gossiped over her.

“Not nearly as pretty as I had expected…”

“She doesn’t look ruined, Maman.”

“That hair…”

“It will not be long before he strays…”

“… Ah, I would not be in her place for any amount of money!”

Irénée drew her to the table where the massive wedding cake, a daunting fortress of sugar and roses, towered in splendor. “It is time to cut the cake, Lysette.” Immediately the unmarried maidens gathered around them. According to tradition, each maiden was to receive a slice, which she would take home and put under her pillow along with the names of three eligible men, one of whom might then be moved to propose to her.

Lysette lifted the knife and studied the towering creation, wondering where to make the first slice. Suddenly she was aware of Max standing behind her. An excited titter ran through the cluster of girls as he placed his hand on Lysette’s back and murmured in her ear, “May I help?”