“I don’t know,” he replied, his expression honest. “I’ve never tried before. Finding you was significantly easier than expected. If I keep up this pace, you might be back home before teatime.”
She lifted her cup. “We are having tea right now.”
“Good God.” He affected great consternation. “What are you still doing here?”
“Wasting as much time as possible,” she replied without hesitation. “I’m milking you for money in order to finance my family’s return home to France.”
“Are you returning?” he asked with interest.
“As soon as we can.” She rubbed her arms. “We’ve been here for eighteen years, so it’s not going quite as swimmingly as your governess hunt.”
He inclined his head. “I’ve heard revolutions and war have a way of changing one’s plans.”
“Indeed.” She lifted a Shrewsbury Cake from the tea tray. “What is it I am to do when I am not imparting invaluable lessons to your children?”
“Anything you like. There are floors to scrub, laundry to wash, vegetables to peel…” He frowned. “I am teasing, of course! The staff handles such things. I will not impose upon your free time. My plan is to work during the day whilst the children are at lessons, then spend my evenings spoiling them shamelessly.”
With a man like this, Désirée had no doubt Jack meant to spoil his children not with money and presents, but with his time. All he wanted was whatever was best for his children. She could not help but admire a father like that.
Annie and Frederick appeared in the doorway.
“The pastries are gone,” Frederick said in a devastated, end-of-the-world tone Désirée might have used to lament… well, the absence of available dessert, for one. She and the children clearly had much in common.
“Would you like to show me your school room?” she asked.
“No.” Annie lowered her voice. “That’s where the books are.”
Frederick nodded. “Papa might notice we skipped ahead to the bit where Gulliver’s crew commits mutiny.”
Jack clasped his hands to his chest as though he’d been struck with an arrow. “You rascals peeked ahead?Again?”
Annie turned curious eyes to Désirée. “What doyoulike to read?”
Travel journals about France. Illustrated guides on the workings of clocks or ovens or how to remove stubborn stains from good fabric.
“No books containing delicious German sugar cottages,” she assured them. “Unless you enjoy…”
“Being murdered and eaten?” Frederick suggested.
Désirée turned to Jack in horror. “Thisis your idea of a bedtime story?”
“The title wasChildren’s Tales,” he protested.
“Children who are tortured and killed in clever ways,” Annie agreed. “Locked in a tower…”
“Eyes pecked out by crows…” Frederick added.
“Cutting off their own toes in order to fit their foot into a glass slipper…”
“Who wouldn’t have sweet dreams after that?” Désirée asked faintly. “Enough literature. What do you like to do when you’re not suffering horrible nightmares?”
“Horses,” Annie answered at once. “Papa promised we could go riding today.”
Frederick’s eyes brightened. “Are you coming with us?”
“I would love to,” Désirée said warmly. “I adore horses.”
“We like to race them,” he warned. “You must try hard to keep up.”
