When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(63)

Lysette winced, knowing that even a touch of humility or repentance on the boy’s part would have kept Max from going off the edge. As it was, Max turned white with frustration.

“The next time you decide to leave,” he said through clenched teeth, “without letting anyone know where you’re going or when you plan to return, don’t come back.”

“I don’t have to live under your roof!” Justin exploded. “I don’t have to depend on you for anything! You want me to go? Then I will, and I’ll never look back!” He spun around and darted out the way he had come.

“Justin, no!” Lysette scrambled up from the sofa. Max did not move. She stared at him with wide eyes. “Aren’t you going to go after him?”

Clearly he was too furious to think clearly. “Let him leave.”

Lysette scowled at him. “Between the two of you I don’t know who is more stubborn!” She hurried after Justin, while Max swore violently.

Lysette winced as she stubbed her toe on the front steps. “Ouch!” Painstakingly, she hopped to the ground. “Justin, stop this very second! Stop!”

Surprisingly, he did. He stood with his back facing her, his hands clenched at his sides. Lysette hobbled partway along the drive. “Max has been desperate to find you,” she said. “He’s had people out looking for you. He hasn’t eaten. He hasn’t slept, aside from three or four hours on the settee last night.”

“If you’re trying to make me say I’m sorry, I won’t!”

“I am trying to make you understand how worried he has been. He was terrified that something had happened to you.”

Justin snorted sardonically. “He didn’t look so terrified to me.”

“You’re not fair to him.”

“He’s not fair to me! He has to have everyone and everything under his control.”

Lysette closed her eyes and breathed a quick prayer for patience. “Justin,” she said, keeping her voice even, “please turn around. I cannot talk to your back.”

The boy swiveled to face her, his blue eyes radiant with anger.

But Lysette did not retreat. “You don’t realize how much he loves you.”

“He’s not capable of loving anyone,” Justin said roughly. “Not even you.”

Even though Lysette knew that Justin didn’t mean it, the words shocked her. “That’s not true!”

“And you’re a fool for believing in someone who murdered his wife.” The boy stared at the ground, his entire body trembling.

“Justin,” she said softly. “You know in your heart that your father never could have done it.”

“I don’t know that.” Justin inhaled deeply, his gaze still fixed on the ground. “He could have. Anyone could be driven to murder.”

“No, Justin.” Cautiously she approached him. “Come inside with me.” She took hold of his wrist.

Justin wrenched his arm away. “He doesn’t want me to.”

“I suppose that is why he has exhausted himself searching for you.” She refrained from touching him again. “Justin, did you stay away because you knew it would upset him?”

“No… it was… I had to get away.”

“From what?”

“From everything. I can’t do what they want. They want me to be a good boy like Philippe, and not ask questions that make them uncomfortable, and not remind them of my mother.” Justin’s eyes glistened, and he clenched his fists, struggling to master the traitorous tears. “But I am like her. I know I am.”

Lysette had to repress the urge to put her arms around him and comfort him as she would an unhappy child. She did not argue with him, knowing that he was too tired and emotional to think clearly. “Come with me,” she murmured. “Your family has worried enough. And you need to rest.” She turned back to the house, holding her breath until she heard his slow footsteps behind her.

———

Fearing what he might say to Justin before his anger cooled, Max avoided him for the next day. Gently Lysette pressed him to have a talk with the boy, and he agreed reluctantly that he would, immediately after his meeting with Colonel Burr.

It was nearly midnight when Max welcomed Burr into his library, knowing that Burr was expecting to win yet another wealthy patron to his side. Daniel Clark, a New Orleans merchant with a large fleet of commercial ships and warehouses, had reportedly given Burr at least twenty-five thousand dollars in cash, and several others had matched that sum. Max did not intend to contribute a penny, but he was interested to hear what the ambitious colonel had to say.

Burr had charmed almost everyone in New Orleans— even the Ursuline nuns. He had been received everywhere with elaborate hospitality. The Catholic authorities and the Mexican Association, which had long agitated for the conquest of Mexico, had granted him their support. It was generally thought that Burr was planning an attack on the Spaniards, and that he had gained the secret support of Jefferson’s government. However, Max had heard enough confidential information from varying sources to know better. Burr was certainly not in league with Jefferson; he was forming a conspiracy for his own gain.

With deliberate bluntness, he asked Burr why he desired this private, highly confidential meeting, when Burr had nearly every man of importance in his pocket. “After all,” Max pointed out, “one more or less won’t make a difference to your plans— whatever they may be.”