Read Online The Honorable Officer by Philippa Lodge - Free Book Online

Treasure, singular—his daughter. He shook his head, clearing the thought of Mademoiselle Hélène as a treasure, and turned to Hardi. “I’ve had Fourbier pay the guards at the end of their shift. Danoit hasn’t collected, has he, Fourbier?”
    “Non, Monsieur.”
    “Then we must expect him to come in search of it,” said Jean-Louis. “Perhaps he has not been bought off to turn a blind eye to an assassin. Perhaps he did not set the fire himself and then shoot at my daughter and my cousin.”
    He paused and watched the young guard’s eyes widen. Fourbier and Hardi nodded, their expressions fierce.
    “In the meantime, I’ll go speak to Condé.” He tugged at his coat, adjusted his saber, and threw his cloak over one shoulder.
    The young soldier took up a post directly outside the tent where Mademoiselle Hélène and Ondine were dressing, his hands shaking as he held his musket, eyes darting around frantically. Good lad. Jean-Louis made a mental note to have Fourbier hire the boy for future duties.
    He was back only half an hour later, still stinging at the Prince de Condé’s set-down and at his inability to say what he really thought to his superior officer without garnering a worse reprimand. He had been given two days to make the trip to Dijon and back. Any more than that and his career was in the balance.
    That was the order of a man who had led a revolt against the king—his own cousin—when the king was just a boy. The prince then defected rather than face justice. Not only defected, but served as a general for the enemy. And Louis XIV had forgiven him and put him in charge of his armies. Ridiculous.
    Jean-Louis’ division still needed him to sort out the injured and dead. His lieutenants needed him to guide them. His superiors were relying on him. Condé, though a brilliant military mind in his own right, relied on him to plan.
    His daughter had nearly been burned and shot.
    Jean-Louis knew more about loyalty and family than Condé ever had.
    All was ready when he came back to his campsite. Hardi reported that Jouvet didn’t know any more about Danoit than the young guard had.
    “Darton, I shall need a new tent and a new table,” snapped Jean-Louis. “And stools and all the rest. A cot. Fourbier will be with me, so you are to supervise the others.”
    Darton scowled, but bowed deeply. The old cook had resented the younger Fourbier since he joined his staff a year before.
    He turned to Hardi. “Would you allow my men to pile our things in your tent until he has one ready for me, please?”
    With that, he said his goodbyes and climbed up into the carriage, where Fourbier, Mademoiselle Hélène, Ondine, and—to his surprise—the girl, Charlotte, waited for him. He stared for a moment at the girl, weighing the need to take another dependent with them against Mademoiselle Hélène’s right to have someone to help care for Ondine. He nodded and took his seat. The sun blazed orange and rose through the clear, frosty air, reminding him of his entry into Auxonne less than a week before. He had been sure it was a simple trip and he would deal with the problem in a few minutes.

Chapter Four
    The worst of it was that Fourbier liked Mademoiselle de Bonnefoi. She was pitiful and incompetent, but he had met many young ladies who would have fainted dead away or shrieked for help rather than cutting through a tent wall. Or planning and executing an escape for herself and a child.
    She was kind and intelligent. Naïve, but rational. Sweet.
    His sister had never been sweet, though she was polite to their clients and gentle with her children. She even knew how to calm her husband’s temper. Mostly. She bore her bruises with stoicism and flung herself between the brute and the children. Fourbier had flung himself in front of a small child—and his sister—more than once himself.
    Fourbier sighed, then flashed a grin at Mademoiselle de Bonnefoi, who glanced at him, lorgnette raised from the book she was