When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(72)

Torn between pleasure at her son’s obvious happiness and discomfort at Lysette’s unconventional ways, Irénée wrestled with the issue before finally deciding to approach Max.

“If Lysette were a child,” she said to Max in private, “I would say that she was being spoiled. You are encouraging her to believe that she can do, say, or have anything she wants.”

“But she can,” he said evenly.

“Lysette feels free to contradict anyone she does not agree with, regardless of age or authority. A young Creole matron would never think of telling any man what to do. And this very morning Lysette was trying to force her opinions on poor Bernard, telling him he should work more and drink less!”

That provoked a laugh from Max. “In that case I’m afraid she was repeating my opinion. And you know that you agree with her.”

“That is beside the point!”

“What is the point, Maman?”

“For lack of a better expression, you must tighten the reins, Max. For Lysette’s sake as well as everyone else’s. It isn’t good for her to be allowed so much freedom.”

His mouth hardened, and he gave her a perplexed stare, as if she did not understand something that should have been obvious. “Tighten the reins? I’ll do my damnedest to make her as assertive as possible. Lysette should be terrified of me, yet she somehow has the courage to face me as an equal. I don’t deserve such a gift. God knows I won’t be fool enough to throw that away. I would slit my throat before asking that she pander to the rules of our quaint little society.”

“You seem to forget, Maximilien, that your family and friends are all part of this so-called quaint society!”

“A society that deemed me an outcast ten years ago.” He paused as he saw her expression. “I’m sorry,” he said in a gentler tone. “I don’t blame anyone, not anymore. But you can’t deny that the shadow I cast falls on everyone I care for, including Lysette. Especially her.”

“That is nonsense!” Irénée exclaimed. “You have many friends.”

“Business partners, you mean. Jacques Clement is the only man in New Orleans who calls himself my friend for reasons other than financial profit. You yourself have seen the way people cross the street to avoid acknowledging me.”

“People pay calls—”

“To you. Not to me.”

“You are invited to social gatherings—”

“Yes, by out-of-pocket relatives with an eye on our money, or by those who feel they owe it to the memory of my father. When I attend such gatherings, I’m surrounded by stiff conversation and frozen smiles. You know that if I were anyone but a Vallerand, I would have been forced to leave New Orleans long ago. The gossip lingers like some slow-acting poison. And now Lysette will have to suffer for a past she had nothing to do with.”

Max fell silent for a moment, knowing that his mother did not fully understand the dread that knifed through his heart whenever he pondered this subject. The hatred and suspicions of others, formerly directed only at him, might be turned against his wife. It agonized him to know that there were possible slights in store for Lysette because she had taken his name. “It isn’t easy for Lysette, being my wife, although she’s never uttered a word of complaint.”

“Max, I think you overestimate the difficulty—”

“If anything, I’m underestimating it.”

“You must put a stop to Lysette’s unruliness now, or she will soon become unmanageable,” Irénée warned. “You don’t want her to become like Corinne, do you?”

Max lost his temper then, responding with such scathing anger that Irénée did not speak to him for days…. Irénée at last realized she would no longer be able to influence Max as she once had. He would never take anyone’s part against Lysette. And the rest of the family was forced to acknowledge that if anyone dared to criticize Lysette, they would face Max’s certain wrath.

———

Utterly frustrated by Max’s behavior at one of the Vallerands’ Sunday evening soirées, Lysette took it upon herself to upbraid him in private. Max had been rude to a guest one of his cousins had brought, a visitor who was unfortunately quite voluble about his hostility toward Governor Claiborne and the Americans. Although Lysette knew that such remarks would send Max’s temper through the roof, she had sent him a beseeching glance in the hope that he would hold his tongue.

Ignoring her silent plea, Max had responded so sharply that the evening had become uncomfortable for everyone. Usually, at Creole soirees, there was music, conversation, and a little dancing, followed by refreshments at eleven o’clock, with the gathering dispersing around midnight. This one ended at ten, before refreshments were even brought out.

Determined, Lysette approached her husband in the library, where he had gone with Bernard for a drink after the guests departed. Before she could say a word, Max turned and faced her without surprise. “I’m in a bad humor,” he warned.

“So am I,” she replied shortly.

Realizing that a storm was brewing, Bernard set his drink down. “I’m exhausted,” he said uncomfortably. “Good night.”

Neither of them noticed his departure.

“There was no need to be so unpleasant to Monsieur Gregoire just because of a few remarks he made about the governor,” Lysette said in annoyance. “I’ve heard you yourself say much worse about Claiborne!”