Forbidden by Susan Johnson (good books to read for teens .TXT) 📕

how fully his life was centered in Parisian society. How would their relationship be affected if she didn't wish to remain in France? And she didn't. She was committed to her tribe and family in much the same way Etienne was devoted to his businesses and children. He would very likely prefer not living in Montana. In all the joy and bliss of their love, they'd failed to come to terms with the physical distance separating their lives. Had he assumed she'd live with him?

"Is the divorce likely?" she asked then, a sequential association to her musing. At the look on Adelaide's face, she added, "Please be frank."

Sighing, Adelaide put her teacup down and straightened the embroidered napkin in her lap in unconscious delay. How honestly could she answer? "There are people who've known Etienne all his life," she said finally, her gaze lifting to meet Daisy's steadily, "who feel he's stepped over the line, and while they'll still consider themselves friends, they can't support the move he's made for divorce. The Church is enormously powerful. Many will act against Etienne as a matter of public policy, regardless of how they feel about him personally."

While the right had lost political power, it retained social influence through its wealth, its prestige in society, its place in the great state services, and its links with the world of business. TheChurch, too, while not a political force, was a powerful social one, supported by an annual government budget as well as its own private wealth. Daisy understood the political alliances, and Adelaide's candid comments only served to remind her a real world existed beyond the perimeters of love. "You're not optimistic then."

"Etienne's determined. An unknown factor… and a powerful one. He's familiar with having his way." Adelaide smiled then. "I don't mean to be pessimistic. Etienne's resolve will very likely triumph over the opposition. Charles, of course, controls a great many of the magistrates required…" Her voice trailed off. And Isabelle would stop at nothing, she knew—an inexpressible thought.

"The Absarokee culture is so different in terms of marriage and divorce, I find the restraints of law a stifling obstruction one should be able to simply ignore. I know better, of course, and I feel great sympathy for Etienne. He shouldn't have to run the gauntlet of social disapproval." For me, she thought. A simple, damning observation. Because of her, he might be alienating himself completely from his former existence. An unpromising beginning for their own life together. It was too much to ask of him, she reflected with a piercing sadness that settled in the pit of her stomach. A great deal too much.

"It's not as though Etienne's unfamiliar with condemnation by the prudish," Adelaide replied with a smile. "He must be immune after all these years. And what you must remember most is Etienne does what he pleases. He always has. Society's censure doesn't concern him."

"I'm sure you're right," Daisy agreed, not wishing to prolong their discussion, understanding in this instance they weren't dealing with the accepted peccadillos of aristocratic males. They were dealing with a stubbornly recalcitrant wife, contesting a divorce with all the power of the judiciary and aristocratic tradition for support. "Hopefully all will be resolved amicably," she added, taking a last sip of tea. "If you'll excuse me now," she went on, placing the crested cup on the table beside her chair, "I'm going to rest for a short time before dressing. Etienne's coming to fetch me for dinner."

"Of course, my dear," Adelaide quickly replied. "Leave word when you wish to be wakened. And don't despair… the divorce settlement will be agreed to, I'm sure. Even if Etienne has to overturn the entire structure of society single-handed."

Adelaide's parting remark was not what Daisy cared to hear.

It was exactly what she suspected would be necessary for their relationship to triumph over Isabelle's contention. Would it only leave their love in ruins? she wondered, a great weariness and melancholy inundating her soul. Would the burden of bitterness from the struggle spill over to tarnish the beauty of their love?

Daisy slept restlessly, assailed by doubts, all the practicalities suddenly in the forefront of her mind. How long would it realistically take for Etienne to be free? Even if his divorce went smoothly—which wasn't even remotely possible—would he return to Montana with her? Leaving behind the entirety of his former life? With the commitment she felt for her family and clan, how much time could she actually spend in France were they to marry? And after the scene at the Opéra and her talk with Adelaide, was she willing to deal with the constant presence of Isabelle in the society they'd frequent?

Her answers, or more aptly—nonanswers, failed to bring comfort. Not a single question had an unequivocal response, while Isabelle's malicious confrontation at the Opéra rose like an apparition of doom in Daisy's mind.

Unable to sleep with the indecisive turmoil racking her brain, Daisy thrust aside the silk coverlet and rose from the resplendent rococo bed. Pacing the room as though her agitated thoughts might be driven away by activity, she moved from the balcony windows to the mirror. A grimace of dis-may directed at her image reflected the morbidity of her thoughts. What was she to do?

Love didn't conquer all, despite the platitude.

Love, in fact, in her case, had upset, muddled, deranged, and displaced her carefully disposed life. And dealing with the dizzying complexities bewildered her completely. Her long-standing belief that problems responded to rational order and intelligent thought was being overwhelmed by obstacles like Isabelle or Etienne's class affiliation, both paradoxically explosive and rock-solid. And immune also to exactitude.

Unable to rest or sleep or gather her thoughts into any peaceful order, Daisy busied herself dressing early for dinner. She fussed in a thoroughly excessive way over her choice of gown and the jeweled pins for her hair, whether silk slippers in blue or lavender suited best, as though these inconsequential decisions held significance beyond distracting her