Bastien poured himself a fresh glass of brandy. “The ‘teaches children’ sort of governess, genius.”
“No,” said Lucien. “Absolutely not.”
“It isn’t manual labor,” she pointed out. “Governesses are genteel.”
“Not that it matters,” Jack said with obvious confusion. “There aren’t too many blacksmiths in High Society, either.”
“Not helping,” Désirée hissed.
“Whose shot is it?” Bastien asked.
Lucien glared at him. “Désirée’s.”
She pointed her cue. Another point. “Lucien, calm down and think rationally. It would not be ‘real’ work.”
“Er…” Jack cleared his throat. “I feel I should disclose that my children are absolutely an enormous amount of work.”
“No,” Lucien said again.
“Ladies can do favors, can they not?” Désirée coaxed. “Perhaps volunteer, in exchange for pay?”
Bastien snorted. “That’s not what ‘volunteer’ means.”
“See?” Lucien pointed at Désirée. “Terrible governess. The answer is no.”
Jack stepped so close she could smell the sandalwood at his throat. “So you’re saying, in theory, that you might voluntarily donate some of your time, in exchange for me voluntarily donating some of my money?”
Lucien leapt to his feet. “You arenotpaying my sister for any favors!”
The insinuation should make her blush. Instead, she eyed Jack with interest. He might not think ofherin that way, but she had on several occasions wondered what it would be like to—
“Désirée,” Bastien barked. “Your turn.”
This time, she blushed. And won another point. “Yes, to being a governess. I suggest a temporary arrangement in which—”
“Désirée will not accept work of any kind from any man.” Lucien’s eyes were thunderous. “She is a lady.”
Bastien tilted his hand back and forth. “Orwouldbe. Except she’s not.”
“Willbe,” Lucien enunciated. “After we return to France.”
“Where they will have no idea whether I did or didn’t tutor anyone’s children whilst in England,” Désirée pointed out. She made a pointed face that she hoped said,Stop being arrogant. We need this money.
Lucien’s intractable expression said,Over my dead body. “This isn’t one of yourremèdesDésirée.”
Jack blinked. “Remèdes?”
Bastien puffed up his chest with pride. “Herremèdesare second to none. Our sister could find a way to make a bomb out of a fur muff and a hat pin.”
Jack blinked a few more times. “Why would she need a grenade?”
“The grenade isn’t the point,” Désirée said quickly. “Resourcefulness is the point.”
Because her English was better than Lucien’s, she was the one who could take advantage of all the information stored in the castle library. Rather than read biographies and romances, she’d sought out practical volumes on simple mechanics. She’d never be mistaken for an engineer, but her “remèdes” had saved the family from countless situations.
“No,” Lucien said. “The point is that I do not trust anyone alone with my sister. If you so much as look at her for too long, I will thrash you within an inch of your life.”
Typical Lucien overreaction. Jack wasn’t the one whose passions needed to be restrained. Désirée rolled her eyes toward Bastien, the brother of reason.
