The Orchid Affair by Lauren Willig

pleasure to alarm, except for the governess, whose entire range of expression seemed to be limited to stony and stonier. It was hard to tell which was which, but André thought she went to stonier.
    Pierre-André flung his arms around his father’s waist. “We bought books, Papa! And I saw purple feathers.”
    André touched his fingers lightly to his son’s head, feeling the silky softness of his baby curls. So precious. So fragile. André scowled at the governess. “What were you doing, taking the children out after dark?”
    The governess very carefully stripped off her gloves, finger by finger. “It was light when we left. Sir.”
    André raised a brow. “Surely one so well-versed in the natural sciences would know that when the sun rises, it also sets.” His booted foot began to tap an angry tattoo against the marble floor. “I returned home from the Abbaye to find the children gone, with no word as to their whereabouts. Not a good beginning, Mademoiselle. Not a good beginning at all.”
    The governess’s eyes shifted to Jeanette, who had followed André down the stairs and was standing just behind. She looked smug.
    “But I told—” Catching herself, the governess pressed her lips tightly together, her chest swelling as she breathed in deeply through her nose. It took her only a moment to compose herself. Studiously not looking at Jeannette, she said, “Forgive me, Monsieur Jaouen. I had meant to return before dark. Our outing took longer than I intended.”
    She wasn’t a snitch, the governess, he would give her that much.
    “What was this outing that was so vital that it had to be accomplished immediately?” He folded his arms across his chest and stared the governess down. Or, at least, made the attempt.
    Gabrielle sidled up beside him, ranging herself by his side, against the new governess. It offended André’s sense of fair play. They were three against one. Four if one counted Jeannette, which André didn’t. Jeannette would never willingly join any team to which he belonged.
    The governess met his gaze without fear. “I took Gabrielle and Pierre-André to a bookshop. They were badly in need of basic texts.”
    Books. He hadn’t thought of books. Given that he had lived most of his life among books, it was an alarming oversight.
    “Why didn’t you ask me?” he asked gruffly.
    The governess chose her words carefully. “I wasn’t sure,” she said, “when the opportunity would arise.”
    “You might have sent a message to the Prefecture.”
    “I didn’t wish to disturb you.” The governess bowed her dark head. It ought to have been a pose of humility. Instead, André felt that he was the one being shamed. “Sir.”
    “Next time,” he said imperiously, “make out a list and send Jean. He can fetch whatever you need.”
    “Thank you. Sir.”
    All those “sirs” were beginning to get on André’s nerves. “Why didn’t you ask for the use of the carriage?” he asked. “It would have been made available to you.”
    The governess lifted her chin, looking particularly governessy. “I thought the exercise would do the children good. It isn’t healthy to keep them in the house.”
    It wouldn’t have annoyed him so much if he didn’t agree. “I would prefer you keep them close to home as much as possible. There are dangerous people about.”
    André half-expected the governess to argue. In fact, he rather hoped she would. A nice, acrimonious exchange might go some way towards relieving his harried feelings.
    Instead, she paused, her lips pursed. She looked thoughtful. Too thoughtful. “It was, perhaps … imprudent. I will not make the same mistake again.”
    André hadn’t spent the last five years interrogating people for nothing. There was something she wasn’t telling him.
    “Papa!” Pierre-André was tugging at the edge of his waistcoat.
    The governess distracted him from his speculations by adding, “Naturally, had Monsieur made his wishes clear, I should, of course,