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"But Miranda tried to be friendly, at the beginning?"
"She put on an act, yes, but I paid no attention. Did she think she could fool me so easily? No one wanted to be my friend," Amalie said bluntly. "I wasn't pretty, I wasn't popular. I knew what she wanted from me."
"And that was?"
"I was an excellent student. She wanted me to do her homework for her, write her research papers."
Conor thought back to Miranda's records and all those A's and B's.
"And did you?" he asked.
"Certainly not. She got nothing from me, I can tell you that!"
"Except an introduction to your cousin," Conor said gently.
Amalie's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"
"Just what I said, Miss de Lasserre. You introduced her to your cousin, Edouard."
"I did." The moon-like face filled with color. "Even though Edouard had come to see me at the request of my dear maman."
"A courtesy call," Conor said, "from cousin to cousin?"
"Edouard is my cousin, but twice removed. And I did not think that he was a fool like all the rest, to be taken in by a pretty face." Her jowls quivered. "He'd stopped in the States on his way home from checking on some property he owned in the islands, and so he paid me a visit. We got along famously. He was quite taken with my intellect."
"Ah," Conor said softly.
"Ah, indeed. Then he met Miranda and she—she victimized him!"
"She married him, you mean."
Amalie's eyes narrowed. "How do you know of this, Mr. O'Neil?"
"Why? Is it a secret?"
"It is not common knowledge."
Conor shrugged. "I told you, I'm doing research for an article. The information was there. All I did was stumble across it."
"Then I hope you also stumbled across the fact that Miranda se
duced poor Edouard."
"You saw her?"
"She flaunted herself before him. And she insinuated herself into every encounter. Edouard was a perfect gentleman. He would come to take me to tea or for a drive and he would ask her if she wished to join us, out of politeness, mind. But Miranda never refused so off we'd go, she sitting in the car between us, laughing and fluttering her lashes." Amalie's mouth tightened into a cramped knot. "How long could he resist such enticement?"
"I don't know," Conor said pleasantly. "How long was it, do you recall?"
"Two months! Eight short weeks and she—she lured him into running off with her. Of course, the marriage did not last long. Miranda decided she'd wearied of the game and left poor Edouard, just like that."
"Didn't he try and stop her?"
"Stop her?"
"Yes. Did he try to talk her out of leaving?"
"Certainly he did, but she would not listen. I don't know all the details, Mr. O'Neil. Edouard and I never speak of it. It is still a very painful memory for him, you understand."
