Iron Lace by Lorena Dureau Read Free Book Online Page A

your actions. Since I couldn't say such a
thing in all honesty, I'm afraid you'll just have to reconcile yourself
to the situation and let time take care of it. Meanwhile, please bear
in mind that, from now on, your regiment of beaux will have to line up
to pass inspection before they can pay you court. Is that clear?"
    Monique tossed her head angrily. "If I decide to marry,
I'll do so when and with whom I please," she declared airily.
    "Don't try me, Monica," Vidal warned her, his voice taking
on a sharp edge. "I have no intention of letting you make a fool of
yourself or of me."
    "And stop calling me Monica!" she retorted. "That's
Spanish, and I'm French!" She rose indignantly, pulling herself up to
her full height, which unfortunately was only to his shoulder.
    "What an incorrigible little brat you are!" exclaimed
Vidal in exasperation. "I've been trying to make allowances for you,
reminding myself that you've had no mother for so many years and have
been allowed to run about with very little discipline until now, but
even my patience has its limits."
    "And so has mine!" retorted Monique, venting her fury with
her slippered foot on the flagstones beneath her feet. "I don't like
any part of this arrangement!"
    There was a faint touch of sarcasm in his smile. "Believe
me, we all have to do things sometimes we don't like to do," he
replied. "I can't say I especially relish this role of guardian that
has been pressed upon me, but someone has to take the responsibility
for the welfare of you and your sister. And since it seems the burden
has fallen on my shoulders, I suppose I have to accept it with as good
a grace as possible, although your hostility toward me doesn't make it
any easier."
    "You don't have to sacrifice yourself on our account. We
were doing quite well before you came."
    "Ah, yes, I've seen how well you were doing!" He laughed
sardonically. "You and your sister were running fancy-free in the
streets with drunken riffraff at your heels, and the plantation was
losing its crops to the worms! One more season like this last one, and
you and poor little Celeste would have probably found yourselves
bankrupt as well as dishonored or worse. A pretty prospect indeed!"
    Monique flushed angrily. "Oh, but you're despicable! Why
don't you and all your kind go back to Spain where you came from and
leave us here in peace?"
    "I'm thinking on it," he replied with maddening
tranquility in the face of her fury. "One thing is certain, I didn't
change my whole way of life and come across the ocean to this island in
the swamplands to be sassed by a spoiled brat. So you'd better mend
your ways, little cousin, or you'll find yourself with even shorter
reins than at present. Meantime, while I ponder on the temptations of
returning to Spain, as you've so kindly suggested, will you please go
to your room and stay there until you're called?"
    Monique turned to leave but then hesitated.
    "What is the matter?" he asked sharply. "Why don't you
obey?"
    "I… I was hoping to see Maurice this
afternoon," she confessed, regretting now that she had goaded her
guardian as far as she had. "He usually comes by on Saturdays around
this time."
    "Aha! Now I see the reason for all that talk about being
bored. You simply wanted to get out of the house to go meet your beau!"
    "And why not? We do nothing wrong. All we do is talk a
little and perhaps take a stroll on the Orange Tree Walk along the
levee. Is that so terrible?"
    "It's certainly not proper that you meet any young man
alone on the sly, no matter how innocent it might be. You know better
than that. I'm sorry, but I can't give you permission to go out like
that without a chaperon. Perhaps later on, once your new governess is
here and I've met the young man, I might be willing to let him call on
you sometimes. In the meantime, I'm afraid you'll just have to remain
'bored' and find something else to do closer to home that doesn't
involve clandestine meetings with young men."
    "If… if I'm not waiting