Royal 02 - Royal Passion Read Free

Ruthenia would bring sorrow, she had insisted. André had remained adamant. In due course there had been the usual gifts of silver and lace from the woman who, by that time, ruled as queen of Ruthenia. There had also been unfailing gifts on Mara's birthdays through the years, with sometimes a note of great warmth and friendliness. But there had been no other contact.
    Little by little, Maureen O'Connor Delacroix had retreated. She refused to come down when there were guests, never attended social occasions. She called her daughter Mara, instead of Marie Angeline, and because it was easier the servants and even her husband did the same. Gradually the lullabies she sang in Gaelic to her daughter ceased. She no longer intruded on the meals shared by father and daughter but ate in her room with a priest sometimes in attendance. She died quietly of a fever when Mara was ten, and she had hardly been missed.
    Mara had grown up secure in the open adoration of her father and with the affection, guidance, and common sense of her grandmother. She rode on the plantation with André trotting behind him on a cream-colored pony, and followed behind Grandmère Helene in New Orleans, wearing a gown just like her grandmother's and a veil to protect her fair complexion, while buying for the household at the stalls of the French market. She had been installed in a convent school during a portion of each year until she was twelve so that though she was sometimes spoiled and willful, she also understood the value of self-discipline.
    By the time she was fifteen, she had received three offers of marriage. André was in no hurry to see her wed, however, so had sent her to a finishing school in Mobile. There she had learned a thousand rules of etiquette, but also many arts, among them the agreeable one of flirtation. Until then she had not taken much notice of her effect upon the young men of her acquaintance, but, in practicing on the brothers, cousins, and friends who came to visit her fellow students, had found a heady sense of power in her own attraction. With lighthearted pleasure and a comfortable familiarity with men that she had learned in dealing with her own father, she had tried her hand at captivating the males who brought themselves to her notice.
    When she returned to St. Martinville in the summer of 1844, the men swarmed around her like wasps to a ripening apple. Proud and indulgent, André placed no curb upon her. She did not pass the bounds of good behavior, but still she embarked on a constant round of rides, carriage drives, picnics, teas, and balls.
    Before many weeks had passed she had collected a garden of bouquets, enough sonnets to her beauty to fill a volume, and so many cones and boxes of candy that her maid had gained pounds. There were any number of young men who had possessed themselves of one of her gloves, handkerchiefs, ribbons, or flowers from her hair, and it was rumored that at least two duels had been fought over her. One man emerged with his arm supported, most romantically, in a black silk sling. She never allowed a man to do more than kiss her fingers or put his hands on her waist when she dismounted from horse or carriage; still, the whispers began to circulate that she was far too at ease with gentlemen for her own welfare, that she was running wild and would come to no good end.
    It made little difference. Even if Mara had known what was being said, she was having too much fun to consider the consequences. A year passed, two, and still she showed no indication of settling down. Finally, there came a reckoning.
    Dennis Mulholland was one of her most persistent suitors. He was something of a firebrand, a touchy young man always spoiling for a fight. He had attended Jefferson Military College in Mississippi and spoke often of going off to join the army, which was involved in the border skirmishes taking place more and more often between the United States and Mexico. That was when he was not proposing marriage. He