He nodded in understanding. “When Lucien’s done thrashing you, I’ll feed you to Chef. Pigs eat anything. Even Englishmen.”
Uncle Jasper bolted upright with a broken snore. “Whose turn is it?”
“Mine.” Désirée shot. Another point.
“Actually, I think you won three counts ago.” Jack tilted his head, his dark eyes piercing hers. “Are you truly interested in helping my children?”
“Not forever,” she admitted. “I could only be an interim governess. I shall return to France before your children are out of the schoolroom.”
“That’s right,” Lucien said. “You cannot keep her.”
“And,” Désirée added, “if we are being completely honest… you may not even want me for the short term. I never had much formal education myself. Everything I learned after leaving France came from the castle library.”
“Fair enough.” Jack tapped the side of his chin, just beneath his scar. “You wouldn’t be aforevergoverness. But right now, I’m not looking for an Oxford professor. I just need someone who knows more than my twins do, to get them started, while I look for a ‘real’ governess.”
“Started?” Bastien repeated. “Do they not know their numbers and letters?”
“They’re clever little slugs,” Jack replied. “They can read, but choose not to.”
“Spoiled,” Lucien guessed.
“Dreadfully,” Jack agreed. His face fell in obvious disappointment. “To be honest, the twins might be too much to handle.”
“Désirée can handle a hog ten times her weight,” Uncle Jasper said staunchly. “I’ve seen her.”
“Désirée can race a high-flying phaeton better than any Englishman,” Sébastien put in.
“Désirée can smelt iron, cookgalettes, and break in wild horses,” Lucien added hotly. “She can break your children, too.”
All eyes swung to him.
“Wait,” Désirée whispered. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours,” he muttered. “I won’t allow anyone to doubt my sister.” He winced. “I might have got carried away.”
Jack clasped his hands together. “Splendid. My children love horses. We can all risk our lives together. Start the day after tomorrow, shall we?”
Swallowing hard, Désirée turned and held out her billiards cue toward Lucien. “Mon grand frère, it is your turn.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then accepted the cue with a sigh. “Prepare to die, Bastien. I blame you for this.”
“You blame me for everything,” Bastien answered cheerfully. “Champagne?”
“That means I’ll see you in two days,” Désirée said to Jack, voice wobbling. Her stomach felt like wild horses had taken up residence and intended to kick their way out.
His slow answering smile only made her heart gallop faster.
There was no reason to be nervous, she assured herself. She’d head over every morning, force the twins to learn something, and be home by supper. Just until he found a true governess to replace her. If she could wrestle hogs and smelt iron, she could do this.
C’est de la tarte.Easy.
