The Beautiful Ones - Silvia Moreno-Garcia Page 0,123

interrupting her reverie. “Luc Lémy came back from Boniface to tell me he’s challenged Hector Auvray to a duel and he wants me to be his second.”

Valérie ran a hand across her hair. It was happening so fast.

It had been fast in Frotnac, too, hadn’t it? They’d had scarcely one season together. But it had been enough. And love could not bloom again the way first love had, it could not scorch as it did, a fever and a curse.

“Then she’s with him,” Valérie said.

But she knew the answer already. She had spoken because it was a reflex, not conscious thought.

“Étienne is also downstairs. He didn’t see her, but he spoke with Auvray, and he says yes, she is with him and he wants to marry her. And it was as he was telling me that Luc interrupted him to say he was going to fight Auvray and he wanted me to be his second. I think I ought to remain impartial.”

“Impartial?” Valérie asked.

“I’m not sure I should be his second. Maybe one of his brothers can do it—he has many.”

Valérie thought quickly, furiously. The rules of duels established that the combatants could not communicate with each other. All matters were settled by their intermediaries. Only the seconds could speak to each other, write down terms, and determine proper conditions for the duel.

As Luc Lémy’s second, Gaétan would not be able to speak directly to Hector, nor would he be able to discuss anything but terms of the duel with Hector’s second. She did not want Hector and Gaétan chatting. The man was soft. With a bit of pressure from Auvray, he might feel compelled to intervene, even to bribe Luc Lémy to assure his precious cousin obtained what she wanted.

“He trusts you. That is why he’s asked you. And what better show of faith than to act as his second? He is her fiancé, and the grievously offended party. Go downstairs and tell him you’ll agree to it.”

“Valérie, I am not fond of duels. If there was another way—”

“Look at what this man has done!” she exclaimed. “If Hector Auvray had a shred of honor, he wouldn’t have placed us in this predicament. He has soiled your name.”

This caused him discomfort. Gaétan frowned. God, how she hated him then. How weak and stupid he was, with his mouth slightly open like a fish. As if he had not thought the same thing himself, as if he did not realize that the violation of Antonina was a violation of all the Beaulieus.

Too soft, too stupid. If Valérie had been in his place, if she’d been a man, she would have put a bullet through Hector’s brain herself.

“Étienne says they would marry.”

“Yes, because Auvray is a reliable fellow. Last spring he came by each week, bringing flowers and sweet phrases, but come summer, Auvray disappeared with hardly a word. Do you think him incapable of doing the exact same thing again?”

“I don’t know,” Gaétan mumbled.

He was retreating now, a tortoise into its shell. That was the only thing poor Gaétan knew how to do. Again she was struck with the unfairness of the world, which had given a fortune to this man who did not deserve a single cent. Antonina did not deserve anything either, but the accident of her birth had awarded her with a future.

Valérie stood up and looked at Gaétan. Her harsh words were not having the effect she wanted; she decided to change her tune. She’d talk about romance, a topic Gaétan did not understand but that, with his lack of imagination, he revered as a special holy item.

“Luc loves her,” Valérie said, clasping her husband’s hand. “He clearly loves her. He is willing to fight for her, he is willing to take her back even after she has flung herself in the arms of another man. Love should be rewarded. Tell him you’ll be his second.”

This convinced him, and he nodded. She squeezed his hand tighter, feeling triumphant in her victory. She decided to press further, knowing that anything would be allowed to her now and it was the time to ask.

“Gaétan, when the duel takes place, I’d like to go with you.”

He looked surprised. “I don’t think the duelists’ field is a place for a woman.”

“I want to be by your side. To give you strength.”

“It could be an awful sight.”

She expected it to be. She wanted it. She wanted Hector’s blood soaking the grass. She wanted Antonina’s tears when they lowered him into his