When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(83)

“Later,” he murmured, easing the dress from her shoulders.

———

One of the largest balls of the season was being held at the Leseur plantation to honor the betrothal of one of the three Leseur daughters to Paul Patrice, the last unmarried son of a well-to-do New Orleans physician. Usually a doctor’s son would not have been considered a suitable match for a planter’s daughter, but Paul was a handsome lad with exquisite manners and gentlemanly bearing. Only three years older than Justin and Philippe, he was perfectly willing to surrender his bachelorhood in exchange for marriage into a wealthy family.

“Eighteen years of freedom, and now Paul wishes to shackle himself!” Justin had commented sourly. “Next year, probably a baby…Mon Dieu, hasn’t he thought about what he is doing?”

“He could not do better than Félicie Leseur,” Philippe replied, a touch dreamily. “Marriage is not as bad a fate as you seem to think, Justin.”

Justin looked at him as if he’d gone mad. Then his mouth curled in a ridiculing sneer. “I suppose you’ll be married before too long.”

“I hope so. I hope I will be able to find the right girl.”

“I know what kind of girl you’ll choose,” Justin continued. “Bookish and sensible, with spectacles pinching the end of her nose. You’ll discuss art and music, and all those boring Greek tragedies.”

Affronted, Philippe closed the Latin book before him. “She will be beautiful,” he said with dignity, “and gentle and quiet. And you will be jealous.”

Justin snorted. “I’m going to sail to the East and have my own harem. Fifty women!”

“Fifty?” Lysette repeated with a laugh, having just come into the room. “That will keep you very busy indeed, Justin.”

He dropped his sneer and gave her an angelic smile. “But if I find someone like you, petite Maman, I’ll have only one.”

She laughed at his outrageous charm, and her smiling gaze turned to Philippe. “Tonight, peut-être, you will catch sight of the girl you dream of. Are you leaving in the carriage with Bernard and Alexandre?” She did not mention Irénée, who was afflicted with a touch of rheumatism and would not attend the ball.

Philippe nodded. “Yes. Father made it clear you and he were going alone in the first carriage.”

“Alone?” Justin mused thoughtfully. “Why would Father want to be alone in the carriage with you, when he could have Philippe and me there? Well, I suppose he might try to—”

“Justin!“ Philippe exploded, mortified at his brother’s impudence. He threw a pillow cushion at Justin’s head. Justin ducked it with a protest.

Lysette’s mouth twitched with amusement. “I will see you at the Leseur plantation,” she said gravely, and went back to the entrance hall, where Noeline waited with her bonnet and gloves.

———

Built facing one of the smaller bayous in the region, the Leseur home was large, simply designed, and stately. One side was bordered by a massive oak that was estimated to be at least three centuries old. Garlands of roses covered the house inside and out. The glitter from intricately prismed chandeliers danced in the most remote corners of the house. Guests filled the outside galleries, while servants moved among them with silver trays of refreshments.

Nearby was the garçonnière, separately constructed quarters for male guests or family bachelors who required privacy. Several gentlemen accompanied by personal attendants had been in the garçonnière since early afternoon, drinking, smoking, and discussing the latest events in the city. The ladies had been resting inside the house, and now were appearing in the ballroom in their most extravagant gowns. A special orchestra had been summoned from New Orleans to supply the music, and the lively strains of a quadrille filled the air.

“Lysette,” Max said as he helped her from the carriage, “a word of warning.”

“Yes?” She looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. Too innocent. “What is it, bien-aimé?”

“It hasn’t escaped me that Alexandre has been trying to persuade you to help him spend a few minutes alone with Henriette tonight. You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

She appeared to be surprised. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Max gave her a warning glance. “If they manage to give a convincing show of indifference to each other, they’ll be married in a matter of months. If, however, they are discovered in a clandestine meeting, there will be nothing I can do to help them.”

“They won’t be caught together,” Lysette assured him.

“Alex could lose Henriette over such a trifling thing. You do not understand the extent of Diron’s pride.”

“I do, I understand perfectly.” Lysette tried to move away, but he kept his hands at her waist, staring down at her. “Max,” she protested, “I haven’t done anything!”

“Keep it that way,” he advised, and let go of her.

———

Max kept his gaze on Alexandre and Lysette for the next two hours, but neither of them made a move to leave the ballroom. He relaxed after a glass or two of the fine wine being served to all the guests. The vintage had been made from vineyards on the Leseur plantation.