"Yeah, but . . it's beautiful. That's a big pool, and those flowers."

"All right," Gisselle said, bursting with frustration. "You have anything to drink? I'm parched."

"Of course. Let's go down to the patio and Molly will bring us some lemonades."

"Lemonades," she ridiculed. "Don't you have anything with a little kick to it?" she asked sharply.

"Whatever you want, Gisselle. Just tell my maid." "Her maid. Do you hear how my Cajun sister talks?

Just tell my maid."

We started out, the young men behind us. Gisselle seized my arm.

"Where's Beau's baby?" she demanded.

"Pearl's asleep and no one knows her as Beau's baby here," I said.

"Of course." She smiled with satisfaction. "And our brother, your husband?" she whispered.

"He's at work in the oil fields right now." My heart began to pound. "If you've come here to make trouble for us . . ."

"Why should I do that? I don't care what you've done, although I know you did it just to spite Beau."

"That's not true, Gisselle."

"Don't you want to hear about him?" she teased. I didn't reply. "He broke up with his fiancee in Europe, so you see, if you hadn't rushed into this sinful arrangement, you might have still won him," she said with great self-satisfaction. I felt the blood rush into my face so quickly, it felt as if it had drained completely out of my legs and I might tumble down the stairs. Then she laughed and put her arm through mine. "But let's not talk of old romances. Let's catch up on other news first. I do have a lot to tell you, a lot you will enjoy and a lot . . . you won't," she suggested with an impish grin.

She paraded me downstairs with her obedient escorts behind us ready at her beck and call.

.

"Daphne's wedding," Gisselle began once she had her mint julep in hand, "was an affair to remember. She and Bruce spared no expense. There were hundreds of guests. The church was bursting at the seams. Most people came because they were curious and just wanted to be part of the highlight of the social season. You know she really never had any friends. She just has business acquaintances, but she never cared and still doesn't."

"Are they happy together?"

"Happy? Hardly," she said, and laughed.

"What do you mean?"

"Bruce is still her little gofer. Remember how I used to tease him--Bruce, go for this, Bruce, go for that? Do you know what I discovered listening in on their business conversations one night? She made him sign a prenuptial agreement. He inherits nothing if anything happens to her. Nothing. And he can't divorce her and sue her for any property."

"Why did she marry him?"

"Why?" Gisselle raised her eyes to the sky and then smirked. "Why do you think?. . . To keep his mouth shut. They were embezzling from poor, dear Daddy. But Daphne was shrewd. She kept control of everything and made Bruce dependent upon her.

"She needed an escort, that's all. They don't sleep together. It's like what you have," she said, nodding toward the bedroom windows, "separate bedrooms. Only, they don't even have an adjoining door." She laughed. Then she looked at Darby and Henry, who were sitting there, sipping their drinks, staring and smiling stupidly at her like two infatuated lovebirds. "Why don't you two go look at the oil wells or something. Ruby and I have to talk girl talk," she snapped.

They both rose obediently and walked off.

"They adore me," she said, looking after them, "but they're both unimaginative and boring."

"They why are you with them?"

"Just to amuse myself." She drew closer. "So, Bruce came to my bathroom one day while I was taking a bath."

"What happened?" I asked, wide-eyed.

"What do you think?"

Tags: V.C. Andrews Landry Horror
Source: readsnovelonline.net