Iron Lace (5 page)

Monique, however, was a little less enthusiastic. "I
suppose anything would be better than staying home," she acquiesced
begrudgingly.

Celeste shook her head disapprovingly in one of those rare
moments of annoyance with her older sister.

"Now, Monique, don't be a bore," she chided. "You know
very well how you were wishing only the other day that we could find
some way to go to the new theater."

Monique flushed crimson. "Hush Celeste!" she scolded
crossly. "You know it's unmaidenly to accept a gentleman's invitation
too eagerly."

Vidal's eyes remained impassive, but the corners of his
mouth were tugging despite his efforts to control them. "I'm happy to
see you are making some attempt to behave like a well-bred young lady,
my little cousin," he said smoothly. "For a moment I almost mistook
your ladylike acceptance of my invitation as a refusal."

Monique shifted uneasily beneath those dark, enigmatic
eyes. Although he seemed as unperturbed as ever, she had the
disagreeable feeling that he was secretly laughing at her.

"My granddaughters sorely need a governess," sighed Madame
Chausson, "but since Mlle. Fortier left us, I haven't been able to find
a suitable replacement. I do the best I can with them, but I confess
they are getting to be too much for me. They need a younger, more
energetic woman to keep up with them and teach them the niceties of
social behavior. The poor dears have been without a mother these past
six years, and their
gardienne—
old
Zizi, who had been their nanny since they were born—died
about a year or so ago."

"Don't fret yourself, senora," Vidal consoled her. "The
first thing tomorrow morning I'll begin looking for some suitable woman
to hire as governess for the girls."

Monique's indignation finally exploded. "Really,
Grandmother, I hardly need a governess anymore!" she protested. "I
could already add and subtract twice as fast as Mlle. Fortier could by
the time she left us, and, as you know, I can read and write fluently
in both French and Latin."

Grandmother Chausson smiled and turned momentarily to
Miguel. "Monique really is well versed," she told him proudly. "The
child has always devoured every book she can get her hands on, and I'm
sure she can hold her own with most of the learned men of the colony."

She turned then to Monique. "But there are always new
things a governess can teach you, my dear. Under the circumstances, it
wouldn't hurt you to learn to speak Spanish better, for example, and
although you play the harpsichord very well, I'm sure one never really
reaches perfection in such things. But most of all, as I said before,
there are still so many more things you should be learning socially."

Vidal immediately seconded her.

"Your grandmother is right, Monica. Besides, Celeste
undoubtedly still needs some instruction in scholarly things, and if we
only hired a companion for you, the woman might not be well versed
enough to serve as governess for your sister. On the other hand, a
governess can always serve as a companion."

"But a governess! Why, many women my age are already
married and have one or two children, and here we are talking about a
governess for me!"

"You may refer to her any way you wish—
governess or companion, it's all the same to me—but you're
never too old to learn, and at any age you're going to need a chaperon,
so enough said on the subject. That's my decision, and if I'm to be
your guardian, I'll have to ask you to abide by it."

Monique's stubby nose crinkled up as her brow lowered to
meet it in a disapproving frown. Things were taking a very unpleasant
turn, indeed!

In
the days that followed, Monique chafed under what she
repeatedly referred to as "the Spanish yoke", which she declared
weighed down not only on the Louisiana colony but on her own shoulders
now as well.

After having been under little or no restrictions for so
long, it was difficult to have to yield suddenly to another
will—a will that she was discovering with each passing day
was as strong as or stronger than her own.

From the very beginning, her cousin took charge with the
air of one accustomed to exerting authority and who expected to be
obeyed. Although he was not nearly so tyrannical and heartless as
Monique made him out to be, Vidal did put a closer rein on his restless
little wards and, living up to his word, would not tolerate their
leaving the premises unless they were well chaperoned.

On more than one occasion Monique angrily accused him of
setting the servants to "spying" on her, but he simply gave that
maddening half-smile of his and admitted he had indeed ordered them to
"keep an eye on her."

Late that first day and all the following morning, there
had been a steady stream of traveling trunks and crates coming into the
town house from the
Maria de la Concepción
, which
the new head of the Chausson family had immediately set about unpacking with
the help of the Negro servants.

The upstairs front bedroom, which had been kept locked off
from the rest of the house since Louis Chausson's death six months
before, had been reopened for Vidal. It seemed strange to Monique to go
past its door and catch glimpses of her cousin's personal belongings
strewn about amid the familiar furnishings that had once been her
father's.

Cousin Miguel also had a few pleasant surprises for his
new family. One of the first trunks he had unpacked from among the
mountain of suitcases and trunks he had brought with him produced a
colorful array of gaily embroidered white fringed shawls and a wide
assortment of black lace mantillas, from the tiny triangular headscarfs
for church to the regal full-length ones to be worn on more festive
occasions.

Celeste and her grandmother were delighted, and even
Monique had to admit somewhat reluctantly that her guardian had
exquisite taste, but she was certainly far from ready to relinquish the
misgivings she still felt about him and the entire arrangement.

As for Cousin Miguel, he might have found many aspects of
his new position not to his liking, but if he did, he kept his feelings
to himself, going about his new responsibilities in his
characteristically unruffled manner. It seemed as though, having once
decided to take on the management of the Chausson affairs, he was
determined to do so as efficiently as possible. He might have missed
the pomp and glitter of his former life in Madrid, but he also seemed
to find the challenge of his new life rather invigorating.

He spent much of his time going around town getting to
know its prominent citizens as well as the geographical terrain of the
region. By the end of his first week, he probably knew more about the
city than the residents themselves did. What's more, because of the
lofty position he had held in Madrid society, the doors of New Orleans
were readily opened to him wherever he went, and when he asked
questions, he usually received answers.

Before that first week there was out, he had also paid a
two-day visit to the Chausson plantation, but on his return, he had had
little to say except that he was afraid the worms were going to get the
indigo crops in the colony again that year. Whenever the women asked
him what he thought should be done to save the plantation, however, he
simply replied it was too soon to come to any conclusions and either
changed the subject or sank into a pensive mood.

On more than one occasion Monique and her new guardian had
their clashes. They especially had a confrontation the day he returned
from the plantation and caught her trying to sneak out, as was her
custom, through the carriage entrance just as he was entering the
courtyard on horseback.

"And where might you be going, my little cousin?" he asked
tartly as he dismounted his mare and turned it over to the stableboy.

Monique tossed her pale gold mane defiantly as she glared
back at him. "I was only going as far as the gate," she replied, making
no effort to hide her annoyance.

"And do you have your grandmother's permission?" He stood
there towering above her as he tapped his riding crop impatiently
against the top of his black leather boots and waited for her to think
of a suitable reply. "Of course you don't," he finally answered for
her, "for why would you be sneaking out of the entrance to the stables
if you did?"

"But you weren't here to ask, and grandmother is
sleeping," she retorted defensively. "What should I do under such
circumstances?"

"Well, in the future if I'm not around, you will simply
have to decide whether your reasons for wanting to go out are important
enough to awaken your grandmother to ask her for permission or not. If
they aren't, then just stay home and find something else to do."

With an exasperated sigh, Monique spun around on her
heelless slipper of pale blue satin and began to walk back across the
palmetto-lined patio.

"It's so boring to be locked up in the house all the
time!" she flung back at him, pausing momentarily by the little brick
well, as though dreading returning inside.

"Well, all of that will soon change," he assured her.
"Come Monday, you'll have a governess to keep you busy once more. I
just hired one for you and your sister today on the way back from the
plantation."

Vidal looked at her standing there bareheaded in the
bright daylight. How dazzling her hair was in the sun, he thought. And
that shapely little doll mouth of hers between a pout and a dimpled
smile, just begging to be kissed. He wondered whether she had ever been
kissed… really kissed, the way a man kisses a woman. How he
would love to savor the taste of that fleshy little lower lip and probe
into the sweet recesses beyond to meet the tip of that saucy little
tongue!

He caught himself quickly. What was wrong with him? He
knew better than to think such things about, of all people, his ward!
Besides, despite her pleasingly rounded little figure, it was evident
she was still more of a child than a woman. He was annoyed with himself
for having thought of her in such a way even for a moment.

Suddenly he remembered the way those ruffians had looked
at her that day on the square, and the memory chilled him. The girl
might still be a child, but she was certainly highly desirable.
Unfortunately, she didn't seem to have the slightest idea of how much
just the sight of her could rouse a man. He felt a sudden urge to
protect her. He must think of her and Celeste as the sisters he had
never had…

"Just a minute, Monica," he called after her as she
continued now to walk on ahead of him toward the house that embraced
the patio from three sides.

Pausing, she looked at him in surprise. "Come, sit here
for a moment," he invited, motioning toward the bench beneath the shade
of the tree. "I'd like to talk to you."

She hesitated, the petticoats beneath her light blue
muslin skirts still swaying from the rhythm of her gait.

"Please, little cousin," he insisted, his voice taking on
a less impersonal tone than usual.

Reluctantly she sank down on the bench, her dress
billowing about her, leaving little room for him to sit beside her, but
he didn't seem to mind. He came nearer and, removing his high-crowned
felt hat, he rested a booted foot on the partially exposed edge of the
bench and stood there looking down curiously at her.

For a moment, as his eyes lingered on the fullness of
those firm young breasts rising up beyond the ruffling that edged the
deep square neckline of her dress, he found it difficult to continue
thinking of her as his ward. Despite himself, he could feel the desire
suddenly rushing through his veins and swelling to a burning hardness
that he knew could not be fulfilled.
Qué barbaridad
!
He'd have to tell the new governess to see to it that the girl cover
herself more…

Monique lowered her lashes, feeling suddenly
self-conscious beneath his penetrating gaze. She prepared herself for
another scolding.

But when he spoke there was a gentleness in his voice she
had never heard before. "Now tell me, little cousin, why are you so
bored? I was an only child, and I confess I sometimes missed the
company of a brother or sister with whom to while away the hours. But
you at least have Celeste. What's she doing now? Is she so bored, too?"

"No, I don't think so. She's working on her sampler."

"And don't you have something like that to work on, too?"

Monique puckered up her tiny nose. "Of course, but I'm not
especially fond of needlepoint."

"I see." Vidal smiled sympathetically. "But there must be
other things you could do. How do young ladies your age usually pass
your leisure time? Your grandmother said you liked to read, didn't she?"

"I was reading to Grandmother when she fell asleep."

"But what do you personally like to read?"

"Just about anything, but I especially like the new French
philosophers, and, of course, I've read some of Molière's plays
and… and translations of one or two Shakespeare works, as
well."

"My! That's commendable, and heavy reading for
one
so young. I had no idea a girl your age could be interested in such
things."

"Perhaps I'm not as much the child you think I am," she
retorted, tilting her upturned nose even higher. "Oh, of course, I like
the romantic novels, too," she added quickly, "but I seldom get to read
any, since Grandmother doesn't care for them, and Mlle. Fortier, our
former governess, used to forbid Celeste and me to read them. She said
they filled young girls' heads with silly notions."

Vidal looked at the drooping head of pale gold ringlets
and chuckled. "Well, we'll have to see what we can arrange for you with
your new governess— or, if you prefer,
companion—when she begins next week," he promised. "But
surely there must be something you enjoy doing—I mean really
enjoy. It's a calamity to be only seventeen and already so bored with
the world!"