The Beautiful Ones - Silvia Moreno-Garcia Page 0,103

girl know about choosing?” Valérie said.

“I wouldn’t want her to be unhappy.”

Unhappy. Women had no grounds for happiness, bartered as they were like hunks of meat. Why should Antonina be granted happiness? Why should a single thought be spared for her feelings?

Valérie’s feelings had not been consulted. She had been told she should marry Gaétan, and she’d followed her marching orders, as all women did.

“If you let her choose, she’ll end up that man’s mistress,” she said. “Are we to raise Hector Auvray’s bastard child?”

There. Gaétan blanched. Her choice of words was perhaps extreme, but Valérie was feeling snappish.

“Surely not.”

“You’ve read her own words. Nina does not understand what is the best for her. It is your duty to guide her as the head of the family. If you do not approve of Luc Lémy, by all means, propose another candidate, but we must act swiftly.”

“I cannot proceed without the consent of her mother.”

“That is but a matter of form. Ultimately it is your approval that reigns supreme, is it not?”

“I could telegram Camille, I suppose, to obtain her blessing,” Gaétan said.

“I’m sure she won’t object.”

“If Luc is disposed toward her, I think we might speak candidly and make the proper arrangements. I will still ask for Nina’s opinion, though. Her sister had a choice in the matter, and I won’t deny Nina her say.”

Valérie gritted her teeth, wishing she could speak a tart word or two about Antonina’s precious opinion, but instead she smiled.

“I’m sure she will agree once you’ve spoken to her and Luc has made a formal proposal.”

Gaétan nodded and rose, taking her hand between his and kissing it. “You are clever, my darling,” he said. “Nina is lucky to have you watching over her.”

Valérie gently pushed her husband’s hands away. His physical displays of affection never failed to irritate her. Hector, on the other hand—she had not been able to have enough of his embraces. He knew how to hold her, how to speak to her, soothing and comforting her and planting kisses on her mouth.

The wretch, she thought, and her fury was such that she had to turn from Gaétan and pretend to look out the window, clutching the curtain tightly with one hand.

“We must have the engagement party before the Grand Season concludes—the sooner, the better,” she said. Her voice sounded as if she were chewing broken glass, but her husband was oblivious to it or perhaps imagined she was overcome with emotion over Nina.

“It takes time, Valérie,” her husband said, put off by the thought. “We can’t possibly throw a proper party that soon.”

“A small affair, close friends and family. We can have a grander party in the summer, at Oldhouse, and I think you would agree a winter wedding may be the best choice. But as far as formalities go, this one is a necessary one.”

A most necessary one. An engagement was a serious thing, but engagements behind closed doors could be more easily dissolved. Once the city was informed of the situation, it was another matter. No one wanted to be singled out in the papers as the party who broke an engagement. There were also the financial penalties incurred if the engagement was broken, the bride-price, which must be forfeited—but it was the scorn of the community that would terrify Gaétan.

“It’s not unheard of. Dellerière had the same arrangement for his two daughters, remember?”

“Yes, I know.”

She released the curtain and turned to look at her husband. “Gaétan, it would quiet any gossip and it would rein her in. With an engagement ring upon her finger, Antonina will abandon whatever silly notions she has acquired. In the end, she will do what is proper.”

“She will. I am sure of it. It is not malice that moves her. She is an innocent child.”

Valérie did not say anything to this. Innocent child. Ha. That girl would be at a whorehouse if she did not have a disgusting amount of money in her coffers; indecency resided in every fiber of her being.

Valérie closed her eyes, recalling exactly what she had proposed to Hector and, more than that, the sting of his refusal.

“I shall write to Luc and explain we must meet with him,” she said, needing an excuse, needing to get away from Gaétan.

“Of course.”

Valérie might ordinarily have retreated to her conservatory, to walk among her flowers, but the violence she had inflicted upon the roses the day before was fresh on her mind. That space had been corrupted. Antonina had ruined even that.