Free The Honorable Officer by Philippa Lodge

Hélène.
    Madame Pinard huffed a laugh. “I would be very surprised if she did, except to complain about reading, complain about calligraphy, complain about everything but dancing. Complain about that, too, I suppose.” She looked abashed. “ Je suis désolée , Monsieur. I am sorry. I should not speak of your late wife in such a way.”
    He stared at her for a moment, cold settling in his chest at the thought of his late wife. “I cannot remember if Amandine spoke of her governess. It is I who am sorry, Madame, for not understanding your relationship with Mademoiselle Hélène.”
    He turned to Mademoiselle Hélène. “You cannot stay here. The threat has followed you already into an army camp. If they know you at all, they will look for you here.”
    “Threat? Has something else happened, then?” asked Madame Pinard, her hand to her heart.
    Mademoiselle Hélène explained the events of the night, leaving out a great deal of the danger and, more tellingly, her own heroics in slashing through the tents to save the girls.
    While she spoke, Jean-Louis went to the window and glared at the few passersby. He had to find an alternate plan, quickly. He couldn’t leave them here. He knew it when he left the camp, it was true, but he hadn’t figured out how he would send them to his property in Poitou. He didn’t feel safe sending them without him.
    He waved at Fourbier, who stood in the hall. “Fetch me my writing desk.”
    He would send Mademoiselle Hélène and Ondine to his sister’s husband, who was visiting his own property in Poitou. Dominique de Bures would take charge of them, and his sister Aurore would make them at home. It was only the journey he was worried about. It would take a week or more. Perhaps if he sent Fourbier and the groom with Hélène…
    And with Ondine, of course.
    Fourbier set the traveling desk on a small table and fetched a chair.
    “Monsieur le Colonel,” said Hélène from where she sat with the distraught Madame Pinard. “Where should we go?”
    “I will send you on to Poitou. My sister and brother-in-law are there. I must…” He stared at her for a long time, lost in thought.
    Really, the army only still needed him in Franche-Comté to supervise the troops during the occupation, which would likely be brief and pointless. He hated pointless. The area would be traded back to Spain. The pawn had advanced across the board and would be traded for a more important piece.
    He loved strategy, the fire of the battlefield, and men moving as he directed them. He mourned each life lost—most of them, anyway, although not so much the hardened criminals whom he wished he could keep in cages—but never in the heat of battle. He was a master chess player. Someday he would supervise the entire battle, plan it from start to end, triumph with as little blood spilled as possible. He hoped the battle would mean something, bring a lasting peace or at least an important territory.
    He blinked and returned to the present. The two ladies looked at him expectantly. He realized he had not finished his sentence. “ Désolé , Mesdames . I am more fatigued than I realized and am thinking of too many things at once.”
    He took out his pen and ink and tapped at the edges of the paper, lining up the small stack. He wrote, “ Ma chère soeur , mon cher frère ,” and then sat back in his chair.
    It wasn’t like him to waste time in thought. He knew his mind. Usually.
    Asking his family for help was worse than asking anyone else. He had worked hard to escape from Cédric’s shadow, to be better and stronger than his fun-loving older brother and his best friend, Dominique. Maybe he was too serious because it made him different from them. Cédric had been born happy and friendly, the reflection of their father the baron, sharing his booming laugh. He loved being around people and talking. Even as a child, Jean-Louis had wanted to be alone to think.
    But this wasn’t getting his letter written.
    Why could he