Free The Honorable Officer by Philippa Lodge Page B

your clothes first, Mademoiselle,” said Jean-Louis, maintaining his fierce expression by force of will as he thought of Mademoiselle Hélène slipping out of her loose bodice. He was probably blushing as much as she was.
    A maid led Mademoiselle Hélène up to a room, and another was dispatched to find Ondine and take her up.
    “Fourbier, my trunk,” said Jean-Louis.
    “And a bag with a few changes, Monsieur.” Fourbier frowned.
    “ Merde ,” said Jean-Louis with a sigh. A few changes? “You guessed I would not be going back?”
    “I shall have the coachman bring in the bag, Monsieur. And the small trunk.” Fourbier’s dark eyes glinted slyly.
    “I shall need a dispatch rider to take a letter to Condé,” said Jean-Louis. “And another to Fontainebleau and de la Brosse, as my father could be in either place. Does Madame Pinard know any trustworthy messengers?”
    “I will ask, Monsieur,” said Fourbier.
    Jean-Louis rubbed the spot between his eyebrows where the headache was already threatening.
    Fourbier turned back at the other end of the hall. “Where do we go next, Monsieur?”
    Jean-Louis sighed deeply. “I don’t know.”
    He was fairly sure Fourbier understood him. Fourbier always understood him. He didn’t know where his life would lead him now, much less where they should go to keep Ondine and Hélène safe while they discovered who was trying to kill them.
    ****
    Hélène giggled nervously as she led Ondine up the hall. She had found lice in the girl’s hair along with a few tiny pieces of glass, and washed her hair carefully. Since the colonel announced they would leave at nightfall, they had plenty of time to bathe. She had washed Charlotte too and combed her hair—the lice were much more plentiful on her, the poor thing.
    Nonni promised to get a doctor in about her heart once Hélène left. She was sitting up in her bed, watching Hélène bathe Ondine, making suggestions.
    Hélène washed her own hair, too.
    As they came around the corner into the small dining room, Hélène lifted her glass to her eye. The men looked up one by one and then looked at each other and again at her and Ondine.
    Fourbier laughed with delight and leapt to his feet. The coachman and groom rose. Monsieur le Colonel followed last, but Hélène didn’t feel slighted because he was looking at her henna-red hair with his mouth slightly open. He glanced at Ondine, and his gaze caught on her now-flaming hair. He smiled, sending her heart fluttering.
    “Come here, ma fille ,” he said, holding out a hand to Ondine. She tiptoed to him, balancing her head awkwardly as if red hair were more precarious than she had expected.
    The colonel held Ondine’s hands as he turned her side to side. Hélène looked at his face, so serious, and thought she and Nonni might have miscalculated.
    Finally, he said, in a soft voice, “I think you’re the most beautiful lady I have ever seen.”
    The little girl fluttered her eyelashes. “Don-deen princess.”
    The colonel looked up at Hélène and smiled at her. “And I see your Tata Nénène is a beautiful princess, too.”
    Hélène blushed until her face ached and she felt tears prickle. “I thought…” She had to stop to clear her throat. She hadn’t been beautiful since her parents died. “I thought we would at least change—Nonni thought it—but we could change our hair. And if you thought it would be—if you don’t object, we would say she is my daughter. And Charlotte. We colored her hair, too.”
    She had been looking only at the colonel, but Fourbier turned to stare at his master, eyebrows raised.
    The colonel said, “Excellent idea. We have been trying to decide on a place to hide, but this way, we might throw people off the trail and slip away. Fourbier, do we have my old black coat and breeches?”
    Fourbier wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I did not think to pack them, Monsieur. I do have your black velvet combinaison , the one with only a hint of