When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(93)

Justin closed his mouth.

“I understand that you want to help.” Max’s hands bit into the boy’s wiry arms. “You don’t want me to be blamed for the murder. But that gives you no license to cast accusations at others, especially members of your own family. You may not be fond of Bernard, but—”

“Come with me,” Justin begged. “Talk to Bernard. If you do, you’ll see what I’m trying to tell you. It is the only thing I will ever ask of you. Damn you, don’t try to claim you haven’t the time! What else were you planning to do tonight? Wait to be arrested?”

Max studied him, his face implacable, while Justin held his breath. Then Max nodded slightly. “All right.”

Justin threw his arms around his father and buried his head against his chest, then jumped away abruptly. “I don’t want to come across any of the Sagesses. We must avoid the main road—”

“We’ll have to use it,” Max said. “By now the other routes have turned to mud.” He strode to the door, while Justin scampered after him.

———

Renée Sagesse Dubois sat alone in the parlor with the sealed letter in her lap, staring at it with redrimmed eyes. It was addressed to Maximilien Vallerand. She remembered watching Etienne write it just before the duel. Etienne had sealed it himself, adamantly refusing to tell her the contents. He had told her to give the letter to Maximilien, if Vallerand proved the victor.

Numbly Renée wondered why Vallerand had spared Etienne’s life then, why he had ended the duel without real bloodshed. Etienne had mentioned it more than once in the months afterward, seeming to have even greater contempt for Maximilien.

Since the duel, Renée had tried to return the letter to Etienne. He insisted each time that it remain in her possession, with the same instructions. Upon his death, he wanted her to place the letter in Maximilien’s hands.

But she could not. In spite of the promise she had made, Renée could not face the man who had killed her brother. “I am sorry, Etienne,” she whispered. “I cannot do it.” Beginning to cry, she knocked the letter to the floor and hunched over in grief.

After a long spasm of sobbing, Renée regained her composure. Her eyes were drawn again to the letter. What could Etienne have written? What were his true feelings for the man who had been his friend, enemy, and ultimately his murderer? Leaning over, Renée snatched the letter up and broke the scarlet wax seal.

She began to read, using her fingers to wipe the stream of tears from her cheeks. The first page was too cryptic to understand. Frowning, she turned to the second. “Oh, no,” she murmured, the letter trembling in her hand. “Etienne… how can this be?”

———

While Max rode along the mist-shrouded road with his son, he wondered grimly what madness had possessed him to head to town with Justin. He would gain nothing by talking to Bernard, who was probably too deep in his cups by now to form a complete sentence.

Why was Justin so determined to involve Bernard in this unholy mess? Max had to grit his teeth to keep from telling his son that he was going to turn back. But as Justin had pointed out, the boy had never asked for anything from him.

Justin increased their pace until the horses’ hooves were slogging a desperate canter through the mud. They came to a curve and slowed, seeing four riders a short distance ahead. The riders fanned out instantly, forming a half circle as they approached the pair.

Max recognized Severin Dubois, Etienne’s two brothers, and a Sagesse cousin. It wasn’t difficult to figure out their purpose— they had formed a lynching party to avenge the death of one of their own. Max’s hand flew instinctively to his side. He swore under his breath, realizing that he had left his brace of pistols at home.

Justin cut his horse sharply to the right, preparing to flee.

“No, Justin,” Max said hoarsely. The riders were too close; it was useless to run. Either not hearing him or ignoring the command, the boy continued on his reckless path. One of the Sagesses held his rifle by the barrel and used the heavy maplewood stock as a club.

A hoarse shout was torn from Max’s throat, and he was seized with panic. “Damn you,” he raged at the Sagesses, jumping from his horse. Running through the mud, he managed to reach his son in time to catch his limp form as it slid from the saddle.

The horses stamped and shuffled. Severin Dubois watched calmly as Max lowered his son to the ground. “Justice is uncertain these days,” Dubois remarked. “We felt it best to take matters into our own hands.”

Cradling his son’s long body, Max turned Justin’s head and smoothed back the damp black hair to view the injury. He shook with violent anger as he saw the gash and the bruise on his son’s temple. The boy groaned and stirred, his lashes fluttering.

“I’m sorry,” Max whispered, kissing his pale cheek. “Je t’aime, Justin. You’ll be all right. Don’t move, mon fils.” He stripped off his cloak and wrapped it protectively around the boy.

“He won’t be harmed any further,” Severin said. “Unless, of course, you try to make things difficult.”

Max stared at Dubois with cold hatred, and he gently lowered Justin to the ground. Standing, he did not resist as one of the Sagesses began to bind his wrists.

———

Etienne Sagesse’s sister was the last person Lysette had expected would call that evening. Still, she welcomed her with irreproachable politeness. She was sorry for Renée’s loss, even though she had no liking for the woman.