Lions and Lace Read Free

girl—to have no one show up at her debut?"
    "Let someone else take pity on her. You have a different task."
    "What task is that?"
    "To flaunt all that costly, protected virtue of yours and keep me in good stead with your peers." He grabbed her arms again, this time bruising them viciously. "So you will play handmaid to Mrs. Astor, and you will do as I say, or your sister won't find me so merciful."
    "Oh God, how my aunt must be turning in her grave that she let you into the family," she spat, her eyes tearing from the pain of his grip on her arms.
    "On the contrary, she's rejoicing that she left someone to take care of you. I'm all the family you've got left, Alana." A cruel light appeared in his eyes. His gaze wandered over to the daguerreotype on her night table. He released her arm and went to pick it up. "But I forget about Christabel ." He fingered the portrait, his once handsome lips curled in amusement. "How is your sister? Have you visited her recently? Of course you have. You're quite religious about it, aren't you. "
    Alana remained mute. He knew she didn't talk about her sister. It was too emotional for her to speak of it. She lived a lie about her family. The Knickerbockers believed that all her family had perished in a housefire three years ago. No one knew the truth— not her beaux, not her "friends," not even Mrs. Astor . Only Didier knew what had happened to Christabel . And that terrible fact kept her protected and vulnerable at the same time.
    Didier glanced again at the picture. "She looks so happy here, doesn't she? How long after this was taken was she put in the madhouse? Has it really been three long years?"
    Alana tried to turn from him.
    He wouldn't let her. "Answer me," he insisted. "She looks very happy in this picture. How happy do you think Christabel would be in a public institution, not that nice clean private home that coddles her so?"
    "She won't be put in a public institution," she lashed out.
    "And how will you afford her care if I no longer permit it?"
    "I shall hire a lawyer and fight you!"
    He shook her. "With what? Your fortune's under my control. You think I'd give you money to use against me? Think again."
    "I won't be blackmailed by you any longer! I'm going to the Sheridan ball, and my sister won't be threatened!"
    "Your sister's care is shockingly expensive. How will you pay for it if I cut you off? Your parents, God rest their souls, didn't realize when they died that they were to leave you with such a burden as your dear sister's care."
    "You're the burden to me, not Christabel !" She struggled against him. To grip both her shoulders, he released the picture, and it shattered on the floor. Alana was furious as she looked down upon her sister's fractured portrait.
    "You will stay in tonight," Didier stated. "And since no one else is showing up at that party, I don't think it necessary to send your regrets."
    His words appalled her. Though he was probably right that no one would show up at Sheridan's ball, she didn't want to believe people were so cruel. Yet the evidence seemed irrefutable. Young Mara Sheridan would be destroyed by this blow.
    But Alana was not so cruel, and she would not contribute to society's cruelty. She said, "I'm going tonight."
    "You're not."
    "I am." She lifted her head and leveled a challenging gaze at him. "I'm going because of Mara Sheridan, but mostly I'm going for myself, and to defy you and Mrs. Astor."
    "I see." Didier took a calm step backward. Without warning, he raised his hand and hit her hard across one cheek.
    She moaned and took her face in her hands. No one had ever hit her before. The shock of it was more debilitating than the pain.
    "Do not defy me, Alana," he whispered as she sank to her dressing-table bench, her palm gripping her throbbing cheek He'd hit her so hard, she felt nauseous. She didn't know whether she was going to faint or have to run for her washbasin.
    "I'll stop by tomorrow to see how you're faring." Didier spoke calmly,