The Honorable Officer Read Free

day-to-day running of it. Even so, she had always been almost a servant in his in-laws’ house. She crept around the edges and supervised his late wife when they were younger, for all the good it had done for Amandine’s behavior and immortal soul. He wondered why Mademoiselle Hélène had never married. He had a glimmer of a memory of his wife telling him Hélène had no dowry—and hadn’t the lady herself said much the same two nights before?—and his in-laws could not afford to present her at court. She had terrible eyesight, too, as evidenced by her lorgnette. He wondered why they had not added to her dowry themselves and found her some minor merchant to marry.
    Amandine’s judgment had been terrible about most things, so he winced to have trusted what she said about her cousin. He supposed he had already decided to trust Mademoiselle Hélène’s judgment—or at least his in-laws’ judgment of her ability to care for his daughter—when he left Ondine with Amandine’s family instead of moving her elsewhere. He’d been consumed with fury at his wife’s death and barely thinking of his daughter at all.
    Fourbier held a coat up for his inspection. It was pale blue wool, with lace and ribbons dangling from the short sleeves. “Is that the only one you brought? It’s hardly fit for anything but court.”
    Fourbier looked down, pretending to be abashed. “I am sorry, mon colonel . I thought you would wish to look your best for the lady. Though it’s certainly not good enough for court.”
    Jean-Louis sighed deeply, gazing at the overblown gold embroidery on the matching waistcoat. “We are here to assess the risk to my daughter and determine if I can leave her here or insist Mademoiselle Hélène take her home. I am not here to court the lady.”
    Fourbier smirked. “It brings out the blue of your eyes.”
    Jean-Louis dropped his head back, staring toward heaven to pray for patience but seeing only the light wood of the ceiling. The lady would hardly be able to see the display of wealth, much less compare it to his eyes. He scowled at his valet, whose eyes twinkled merrily. “I was hoping to slip in and out of Auxonne and be back with the army tomorrow, not make a splash.” He was a knight in the never-ending chess game between France and the rest of Europe. He should dress like a knight, not a prince.
    He stripped off his leather jerkin and the shirt—the same smelly one from two nights before—and washed himself hastily with perfumed oil before putting on the clean white shirt with excessively large sleeves, the embroidered waistcoat, and the offending coat. The valet held out the matching breeches, and Jean-Louis sighed and stripped out of his leather ones.
    The valet wrinkled his nose in distaste.
    “No, Fourbier, you may not burn them this time, either.”
    He donned his fine linen underthings and the woolen breeches with their six-inch ruffle below the knee, trimmed with dark blue ribbon and gold-edged lace. “At least they aren’t silk.”
    “Much too cold for silk in February, Monsieur , ” replied his valet, rolling up the dirty clothes and tucking them into a bag. “And silk is not appropriate for a morning visit in the provinces.” He efficiently tucked and fluffed and tied the sleeves so they ballooned out exactly as they should.
    Jean-Louis laughed. “Fourbier, I do not know why you stay with me. Surely there is a dandy at court who would make much better use of your services.” He would be lost without Fourbier, and they both knew it. The man loved lace and beautiful colors but ran his small group of servants like the toughest of sergeants.
    Fourbier grinned. “It’s the adventure, Monsieur le Colonel. I have met no one at court I like as well as I like you.”
    Jean-Louis winced. His valet sometimes seemed to like him far too much.
    Fourbier combed the wig to extraordinary heights and settled it on his head as they rode up to the inn. Jean-Louis took his good hat and pulled it down