When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(59)

“Irénée is right over there, not twenty feet away. I will go to her.”

“What about our dance?”

“We will dance later,” Lysette promised with a laugh. “At the moment, this is more important.”

“All right,” Alexandre muttered, squaring his shoulders. “I suppose I have nothing to lose, n’est-cepas?”

Smiling, Lysette headed toward Irénée and the gaggle of gray-haired women around her. She could not help but be aware of the indiscreet stares that followed her. One group of young bucks stopped their conversation altogether, watching her every move. Lysette became absurdly self-conscious, and by the time she reached her destination, she felt a blush climbing up her cheeks. Irénée welcomed her warmly.

“Belle-mère,” Lysette said, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Of course I am!” Irénée replied matter-of-factly. “And from all accounts, you are a great success, my dear. Why, Diron Clement, the old gentleman over there, was overheard to say that in his opinion you are a great beauty!”

Lysette laughed. “Someone should clean his spectacles.”

“He would not have said it if it were not true.” Irénée nudged a stout, flower-bedecked matron nearby. “Tell her it is so, Yvonne, tell her!”

Yvonne, an older cousin on Irénée’s side of the family, gave Lysette a plump-cheeked smile. “You are a very attractive girl, Lysette. I remember it was the same with your mother when she was young. How lovely and full of life she was, and how they all stared when she entered a room!”

Lysette reflected wistfully that no one would consider her mother a beauty now, after the ravages of her marriage to Gaspard.

Seeing the trace of sadness in her expression, Yvonne sought to change the subject. “What splendid diamonds, Lysette! Irénée told me they were a gift from Maximilien.”

Lysette smiled, glancing down at the glittering bracelet. “My husband is quite generous.”

The older woman leaned forward and spoke in a confidential tone. “I’m certain he is, my dear. But mark my words, your husband will be even more generous once you bear him children. You must conceive as soon as possible.”

Amused by the Creole preoccupation with producing babies, Lysette tried to appear suitably impressed. “Oui, madame.”

“As the wife of a Vallerand,” Yvonne continued with increasing enthusiasm, “you will have to set the standard for all the young Creole matrons. We have need of such good examples, with all these brazen American women moving to New Orleans!” She clucked her tongue in displeasure. “Shameless creatures— no modesty or delicacy. Why, they think nothing of walking anywhere unescorted, and interrupting their husbands freely! Bah! It is the responsibility of young Creole women to cling fast to the old values. But until you produce children, you will have no real authority.”

“Yes, that is very true,” Irénée agreed meaningfully.

Lysette nodded gravely, while inside she wanted to laugh, fearing that she was far more like the brazen American women than the proper Creole ones. “I will pray to be blessed with children soon, madame.”

“Bien sûr,” Yvonne replied, satisfied that her admonition had been heeded.

They continued to chat until a flutter of excitement ran through the group of ladies and Lysette half turned to find the dark figure of her husband beside her. Max greeted the women politely and extended his gloved hand to Lysette. “I am stealing you for a dance,” he informed her.

Lysette went with him gladly, lured by the buoyant melody of a quadrille.

“I haven’t danced in a long time,” Max told her. “I am somewhat out of practice, petite.”

“Don’t you like to dance, Max?”

“Yes, I do. But it hasn’t always been easy for me to find partners. My wicked reputation, remember.”

“You have a partner now,” Lysette said as they took their places in the quadrille. “A most willing one.” After they danced several sets, they stopped as the musicians took a brief respite from playing. Max drew Lysette to the side of the drawing room, next to a row of French doors that opened to the outside gallery.

As a servant passed bearing a tray of champagne, Max took two glasses of the sparkling vintage and gave one to Lysette. She accepted it without hesitation and drank thirstily, heedless of the disapproving stares from nearby matrons. It was not proper for a young woman to drink in public, even a married one. Max, however, seemed amused, as if he were being entertained by the antics of a playful kitten.

“Mmmm… I feel a bit dizzy,” Lysette said breathlessly when she finished the champagne. Smiling, Max gave their empty glasses to another passing servant.

“Some fresh air will clear your head,” he said. “Would you like to go outside?”

She gave him a suspicious glance. “Are you going to make advances on me if I do?”

“Of course,” he replied without hesitation.

“In that case, yes.”

Adeptly Max slipped her past the French doors. Lysette laughed under her breath as he pulled her into the rustling garden, past tall yew hedges and rosemary-covered walls. She felt wicked and giddy, as if she were having a clandestine meeting with a lover. Max lifted her off her feet and whirled her around, making her giggle. Throwing her arms around his neck, she leaned against him, while a sobering thought occurred to her.