When Strangers Marry (31 page)

She returned his glare. “Your insolence won’t help anyone, little man.” She returned her gaze to Lysette. “I might know where they have taken him, but I am not certain. My carriage is just outside.”

“Why would you want to help me find him?” Lysette asked woodenly, barely taking notice of Philippe as he joined them.

“It was wrong of Etienne to keep silent all those
years, when he knew that Maximilien was innocent. No one can make reparation for what Etienne has done, and no one—”

“Perhaps,” Justin interrupted icily, “we could make speeches later, and try to find my father before your family stretches his neck.” Grunting with pain, he pushed open the front door and gestured to the carriage.

Philippe escorted Lysette outside, and Justin took Renée’s elbow in a hard grasp. She glared at him. “You are ruining my gown with your dirty hand, boy!”

Justin did not let go of her, using her to maintain his precarious balance. “Tell me where we’re going and why you think my father is there,” he said as they went down the front steps. “You’re probably leading us on a merry chase to keep us from finding him.”

“I have already explained,” Renée said haughtily. “And we are going to a field on the northwest corner of my plantation, a private and secluded place.” A trace of malice entered her voice. “With trees aplenty for hanging. Severin killed a man there once before. I know, because I followed him.”

“And the man’s offense?”

They stopped at the door of the carriage. Renée shoved his hand away from her elbow. They faced each other, and she decided to shock the arrogant boy into silence. “Severin suspected him of being my lover,” she said. Pleased with her own boldness, she waited for a youthful blush that never came.

“Was he?” Justin’s dark eyes were far too adult for a boy his age.

“Yes,” she said, hoping to shock him.

His gaze slid over her with a purely sexual speculation. “You must be good, to make a man risk his life for it.”

To her annoyance, Renée was the one who blushed as she climbed hastily into the carriage.

The Sagesses had gathered underneath an ancient oak tree and wrapped a rope around the thickest limb.

“We’ll wait until he comes to,” Severin Dubois said, and the men grunted as they lifted Max’s slumping body onto the saddle of the fidgeting black stallion. Sensitive and fiery-natured, the horse could not tolerate the nearness of anyone other than his master. Max was the only one who could ride him.

Tomas Sagesse, Etienne’s youngest brother, slipped the noose around the unconscious man’s neck, tightened it, and gingerly took hold of the stallion’s reins. “I will not be able to stay him for long.”

“You must. I want Maximilien to be awake,” Severin replied. “I want him to know.”

When the horse was allowed to walk away, Vallerand’s body would come to dangle in midair. His neck would not be broken. He would hang there with his windpipe closed, choking and strangling. Severin wandered closer to the agitated horse and stared into Vallerand’s bloodied face. “Open your eyes. Let’s have done with this!”

At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, the horse sidestepped, and the noose tightened. Vallerand stirred, his eyes half opening. His head lifted from the stallion’s withers, easing the constricting pressure of the rope. Severin had expected to see anger, resentment, pleading in his face, but the dark eyes were emotionless.

Painstakingly, Vallerand parted his swollen lips. His voice was a mere scratch of sound. “Lysette…”

Severin frowned. “I shouldn’t worry about your wife, Vallerand. I suspect she’ll rejoice at being rid of such a cold-blooded bastard as you.” He motioned for Tomas to release the horse’s reins. “Now, while he’s still awake.”

All of a sudden, they heard a woman’s desperate cry. “
Nooo!
”

From a distance they saw one of the Sagesse carriages, its wheels mired in mud, and a woman stumbling across the field toward them. Tomas raised his hand to slap the horse’s hindquarters, but Severin stopped him with a curt command. He had just seen Renée emerge from the carriage. Stormy anger appeared on his face as he watched his wife and Vallerand’s sons follow.

Lysette fell and picked herself up quickly, hurrying across the soft, sinking earth. Terror seized her as she saw that no one was holding the reins of the horse. There was a noose around Max’s neck, secured to the tree limb above him. He was badly beaten, and his eyes were closed. Ripping her gaze from the sight, she spoke to Severin Dubois in a
shaking voice. “You’ve made a mistake.” She held out the letter to him. “Look at this—please—don’t do anything until you read it.”

Tentatively Tomas reached for the reins of the horse, but the stallion flinched, walleyed, ready to explode with movement. Lysette thrust the letter at Severin and stared at the horse, mesmerized, realizing that her husband’s life was hanging by a fragile thread. A thousand prayers flashed through her mind. The paper rustled as Severin turned a page, and the stallion tossed his head impatiently. Max no longer seemed conscious, and she expected him to slide from the horse’s back at any moment.

Suddenly she was aware of Justin’s quiet voice behind her. “I’ll cut the rope. Don’t move.”

The boy’s thin, dark form moved behind the horse to the oak tree. He began to climb, a knife held between his teeth.

“Stop, boy,” Severin Dubois said, pulling a flint-lock pistol from his breeches. Justin continued shimmying up the tree trunk as if he hadn’t heard. “Boy—” Dubois said again, and Lysette interrupted.

“Put away the pistol, Monsieur Dubois. You know that my husband is not guilty.”

“This letter proves nothing.”

“You must believe it,” Lysette said, staring at Max’s slumped form. “It is written in your own brother’s hand.” She had never thought she would feel such agony in her life. Everything she held dear, her only chance at happiness, was poised precariously before her.

“A hand that was none too steady, by the look of it,” came Severin’s reply. “Etienne was drunk when he wrote this. Why should I accept a word of it?”

Renée confronted him. “Stop tormenting her, Severin! For once be man enough to admit that you are wrong.”

A breeze caught the folds of Lysette’s cloak and caused it to flap. The movement was enough to make the stallion jerk and run. Lysette heard a hoarse scream—her own—as she saw her husband’s body fall from the saddle with nightmarish slowness.

But the rope was no longer tethered. Justin had sawed through it.

Max’s body hit the soft earth and was still. A chilling breeze ruffled his black hair. Lysette reached him at once, falling to her knees beside him with a sob of terror.

A
fter glancing at the prone form on the ground, Severin turned back to Renée. “And if this letter is true, Renée?” he asked with a sneer. “What if Bernard was indeed the one who killed Corinne? That still doesn’t change the fact that Maximilien murdered your brother because Etienne could not leave his pretty little wife alone.”

“Why would Maximilien have resorted to murder if he desired Etienne’s death?” Renée demanded. “Etienne gave him every opportunity to do it honorably! Maximilien could have killed him at the duel—but he did not. He could have demanded satisfaction at the Leseur ball and ended it with a sword right then, and no one would have thought the worse of him. But he did not. Severin, be reasonable for once!”

After prying the rope from his neck, Lysette pillowed Max’s head and shoulders in her lap. His shirt was in tatters, his clothes wet and muddy. She searched beneath his jaw and found the weak rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You’re safe now,” she whispered, using a fold of her gown to wipe the blood from his face. There was an annoying trickle of hot liquid over her cheeks, and she wiped at it impatiently, but the salty tears continued to leak from her eyes. Max groaned faintly, and she reassured him with a murmur. “I am here,
bien-aimé.
”

His shaking fingers clenched in her velvet skirt. Instinctively he strove to bury himself deeper against her warm body. “Lysette…” He tried to roll to his side, then recoiled in shock and pain.

“No, no, be still,” Lysette said, cuddling his head against her breasts.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“Yes, I know,
ma cher.
I love you, too.” She glanced at Justin, who was standing just a few feet away, seeming dazed. Her expression hardened with determination. “Justin, tell Monsieur Dubois that we are taking your father home now.”

Justin nodded shortly and went to Dubois, who was still quarreling with his wife.

“What purpose do you have for defending him?” Dubois demanded, his face reddening.

Renée discarded her aggressive posture. “I am not defending him,” she said, her voice noticeably softer. “It is just that I desire the
real
murderer of my
brother to be punished. Won’t you try to find Bernard?
There
is your justice, if you are able to pry the truth out of him.”

“Perhaps we will,” Severin said harshly, and raised his voice for all to hear. “Where
is
Bernard?”

No one answered. Lysette thought quickly, wondering what was best for Max’s sake. If there were only her own desires to consider, she would encourage them to find Bernard and do as they pleased with him, as long as she never had to see his loathsome face again. But Bernard was Max’s brother, and it was Max’s right to decide how to handle him.

“Bernard is at home,” Lysette said coolly. “He accompanied his mother to church today.”

Justin and Philippe glanced at her discreetly, knowing that she was lying. “She is right,” Justin said. “You’d better go now, if you hope to find him.”

Lysette continued to stare at Severin Dubois. “Monsieur, I will keep the letter, if you please. It is the only thing that will prevent Captain Gervais from arresting my husband.”

“First I must know,” Severin replied, “what you intend to tell Gervais about what happened today.”

In other words, she could have the letter if she gave her word she would not tell Gervais or his lieutenants how the Sagesses had brutally beaten her husband. Lysette swallowed back her impotent fury, thinking that the authorities would do nothing in any case. But her hatred of Dubois and the Sagesses would last the rest of her life, and she promised herself that eventually they would be
paid in full for their actions. She did not have to look at Justin to know that he was thinking the same. “We’ll keep our silence in exchange for the letter,” she said. “Now I must take my husband home quickly, or you may yet have succeeded in killing him.”

“Of course,” Severin said, his brusqueness concealing his discomfort. He was not a softhearted man, nor was he capable of real contrition. But something about the way Vallerand’s young wife stared at him elicited an unwanted feeling of shame.

“She is quite young to have such a sharp tongue,” Dubois muttered to Renée sotto voce, turning away and gesturing the Sagesse brothers to the mired carriage. “I see why they call her
la mariée du diable
.”

“She is a strong girl,” Renée replied, a shadow of melancholy crossing her face. “I wish she had been Etienne’s—she might have been able to change him.”

The Sagesses and their brother-in-law rode away toward the road leading to the Vallerand plantation. Renée’s carriage moved along the side of the field and came to a stop nearby, and she opened the doors herself, giving rapid orders to the coachman.

Philippe came to crouch by Lysette. “I don’t understand,” he said. “You know that Bernard is at La Sirène. Why did you tell them he was at home?”

“To allow us time,” Lysette replied, using her cloak to shield Max’s face from the rain.

“Time for what?” Philippe asked.

“To warn Bernard before they find him.”

“No,” Philippe said in outrage. “Why should Bernard be warned? Why shouldn’t we allow the Sagesses to have him?”

“Because your father would not want that. Now let us move him to the carriage.”

Despite the twins’ lankiness, they were strong boys, and they managed to carry their father’s unconsious form to the carriage. He did not make a sound, and Lysette wondered with growing dread how badly he was hurt.

After Max was safely inside, Justin took Lysette’s arm and drew her a short distance away. His face was lined with exhaustion, but his expression was hard and sober. “I’ll go to Bernard,” he said quietly. “What should I say to him?”

“Tell him…” Lysette paused. “Tell him that the Sagesses are looking for him. For tonight, at least, I believe he can safely hide in the new warehouse Max built on the riverfront.” She frowned. “How will you reach town?”

Justin nodded back in the direction of the black stallion, which had bolted only a short distance away and was grazing warily underneath a tree. “I’ll take Father’s horse.”

“You can’t,” Lysette protested, knowing how volatile the stallion was.

“I can,” Justin said flatly.

Lysette knew that he would not make the claim unless he was certain. She would not give her consent, however, until one point was made. “I am placing my trust in you,” she said. “That you will
do as you say, and not allow your own temper to best you. Give the message to Bernard and leave. No accusations, no arguments. I am trusting you not to lift your hand against him, Justin. Will that be too difficult for you?”

His blue eyes did not move from hers. “No.” He took her slender hand, lifted it to his lips, and pressed the back of it against his cheek. “Take care of him,” he said huskily, and walked her back to the carriage.

La Sirène was filled with all the noise, music, and good-natured brawling of any slightly disreputable drinking establishment on the waterfront. On any other occasion, Justin would have relished the opportunity to visit the place. It was the kind of tavern he liked, making no pretense at sophistication, yet discriminating enough that the vulgar, blustering Kaintocks from upriver were not allowed.

Entering the tavern, Justin pushed through the crowd to the gaming rooms in the back. He located his uncle easily. Bernard was sitting at a table with a group of friends, idly rearranging a hand of cards.

“Bernard,” Justin interrupted, “I have a message for you.”

Bernard looked up in surprise. “Justin?
Bon Dieu
—you are a mess. You’ve been fighting again.” His dark eyes snapped with dislike. “Don’t bother me here, boy.”

“The message is from Lysette.” Justin smiled coolly as he saw that the other gentlemen at the
table were beginning to lend their attention to the exchange. “Would you like to hear it in private, or should I say it in front of everyone?”

“Insolent whelp.” Bernard threw his cards down on the table and stood up, yanking Justin to the corner. “Now tell me, and then be gone with you.”

Justin shook off his hand and stared at his uncle with hot blue eyes. “It would have been three murders,” he murmured. “Because of you, they nearly killed father this evening.”

Bernard’s face went blank. “What nonsense is this?”

“Lysette’s message,” Justin said, “is that the Sagesses know you killed Etienne. They are looking for you. If you value your life, you’d better find a way to disappear. Lysette suggests that you hide at the new warehouse on the quay.”

Bernard did not react, except for a violent twitch at the corner of his mouth. “It’s a lie,” he said softly. “It’s a bluff to make me admit to something I—”

“Perhaps it is,” Justin replied. “Why don’t you stay and find out? I think you should.” He smiled thinly. “Really.”

Bernard stared at the boy in incredulous fury. He lifted his hands as if he would throttle Justin.

Justin did not move. “Don’t try it,” he said softly. “I’m neither a drunkard nor a helpless woman—not your favored sort of victim at all.”

“I regret nothing,” Bernard said hoarsely. “The world is better for being rid of Sagesse…and your whore of a mother.”

Justin flinched. Silently he watched as his uncle staggered from the room.

After Max had been attended to by the doctor, Noeline satisfied herself by adding yet more bandages and salves of her own, and then hung an array of charms over the doorway. Lysette did not dare remove them, having been assured by Noeline that they were very powerful.

To Lysette’s relief, Max finally regained consciousness, his bruised eyes slitting open. “What happened?” he demanded, cursing in pain as he held a hand to his battered ribs.

Lysette hurried to the bedside with a glass of water. Gently she lifted his head and helped him to drink. She explained all that had occurred after his near-hanging, and showed him the letter that had saved his life. “Renée Dubois brought this earlier today. Etienne told her it was to be given to you upon his death.”

“Read it to me,” he said hoarsely, setting down the glass.

Lysette read the letter without inflection, trying to keep her voice steady. When she finished the first page and came to the first mention of Bernard, she did not look at Max’s face, but sensed the torrent of outrage, fear, and fury that swept over him.

“No,” he croaked.

She continued to read. Before she reached the end of the letter, Max had taken it from her and crushed it in his fist.

“Sagesse was a lying drunkard.”

“Max, I know that you don’t want to believe it, but—”

“But
you
do,” he sneered. “It makes things much easier, doesn’t it? Pin the blame on Bernard—someone you have no great liking for in the first place—and then the mystery of what happened ten years ago is over. Never mind that Sagesse had no more honor than a gutter rat. It’s obvious you’re perfectly satisfied with a drunken bastard’s explanation of it all. But it didn’t happen that way, damn you!”

“And why are you so certain of that? Simply because Bernard is your brother?”

“Damn you,” Max repeated harshly. “Where is Bernard now?”

Understanding his anger, and the anguish behind it, Lysette replied without heat. “It’s possible Bernard is hiding in the new warehouse on the waterfront. He knows the Sagesses are looking for him. He may already be on his way out of the territory.”

Max pushed back the bedclothes and tried to move his legs over the edge of the mattress.

“Max, what are you doing?” Lysette exclaimed. “You are not well enough to go anywhere, you stubborn ox!
Nom de Dieu
, you were beaten within an inch of your life today.”

He gasped in agony, clutching his ribs. “Help me get dressed.”

“Absolutely not!”

“I have to see him.”

“Why? You know he’ll deny everything!”

“I’ll know when I see him if it’s true or not.”

“I won’t let you kill yourself, Max!” Filled with determination, Lysette pushed him back down as hard as she could. Although her weight was a fraction of his, his injuries had weakened him considerably. Groaning, Max collapsed to the pillow, briefly losing consciousness.

Alerted by the commotion, Noeline appeared at her side. “Madame?”

Lysette was grateful for the housekeeper’s competent presence. “Sedate him, Noeline, before he is able to rise again. Give him enough to put an elephant to sleep—he won’t stay put otherwise.”

“
Oui
, madame.”

“I am leaving for a little while,” Lysette said, striding to the chair where her muddy cloak had been draped. “Yes, I know it’s late—I’ll take Justin with me.”

The outlines of boxes, furniture, and bales of cotton were briefly illuminated by moonlight as one of the warehouse doors swung open. A woman’s voice cut through the stifling air.

“Bernard? Are you here?”

The silence was broken by a shuffling and scraping in the corner. “Lysette?” Bernard’s voice was laced with wary surprise. A match was struck.

Standing with Justin by her side, Lysette watched as her brother-in-law lit an oil lamp. “Be careful with that,” she said tersely. “After what I’ve been through today, I have no wish to deal with a warehouse fire.”

“After what
you’ve
been through,” Bernard said,
sounding shaken. “My God, I’ve been hiding here for hours, actually in fear for my life.”

“You should be,” Lysette assured him.

Bernard glared at the two of them. “What are you doing here? What happened to Max?”

“He has been badly injured,” Lysette replied, “but the doctor says he will recover.”

“No thanks to you,” Justin could not resist adding, and Lysette elbowed him to keep him quiet.

She met Bernard’s hate-filled gaze without blinking. “Your life is in danger, Bernard. The Sagesses want to kill you, and if they don’t find you first, you’ll be arrested by Captain Gervais and his men. Etienne Sagesse left behind a letter that explained everything he knew about Corinne’s murder. I’m certain you won’t be surprised to learn that you are implicated.”