the same sly winks—but Horace did, so Meli would make the effort.
Horace caught her hand and bowed over it. “Truly, I am well blessed in my wife, Melisande. I will happily escort you to the Walters do, and I am sure you will be the prettiest lady of the whole gathering.”
He smiled, kissed her knuckles, and took his leave of her, ever the gallant officer, though Meli was no longer the blushing young wife who thrived on flummery and flirtation. Philippe Deschamps had disabused her of much silliness, then war, polite society, and the passing years had done the rest.
Meli waited until she heard the front door close before she slipped her flask from her skirt pocket and tipped a quarter of the contents into her tea. She had downed a fortifying swallow of Dutch courage when the footman returned to clear away the empty place at the head of the table.
She’d meant to use Ann’s weekly call to ask her to finalize a menu for the officers’ dinner. The task could not wait another week, so Meli would have to send a note around to Ann’s lodgings. How to do that without Horace getting wind of it was yet another puzzle.
A commanding officer’s wife had to be good at solving puzzles and intrigues. Meli would solve this one too.
“Orion, do come in.” Jeanette’s smile was hesitant, and that alone shamed Rye. He’d kept his distance from his only sibling, hoping that his troubles would not become her troubles. Thus Rye had been nowhere nearby when Jeanette had acquired troubles of her own, and Sycamore Dorning had charged into the breach.
“Jeanette.” Rye bowed, an awkward courtesy between brother and sister, but with Dorning hovering at Jeanette’s elbow, courtesy was the safer alternative. “You look well.”
“I enjoy great good health, thank you. Won’t you have a seat?”
And that was another courtesy, to treat her own brother to the manners due a caller. Rye took the wing chair facing the parlor door, which seemed to amuse Dorning.
“Shall I ring for a tray?” Jeanette asked, resuming her place on the sofa. Dorning, of course, took the place beside her and possessed himself of her hand, as if Rye might presume so far as to ask his sister to stroll with him in the garden.
“A tray won’t be necessary. I don’t want to take up much of your time, but I did want to thank both you and Dorning for your kindness toward Hannah.”
Dorning left off stroking Jeanette’s wrist. “Miss Pearson’s apprentice has been entered on the wage books as Hannah Goddard. Jeanette saw no reason to keep the girl’s family connection quiet.”
This was not good, and a problem Rye should have foreseen. “As I have never married, and Hannah bears my name, the inferences might redound to Hannah’s discredit.”
Dorning linked his fingers with Jeanette’s. “Not in the kitchen, they won’t. In the kitchen, an association by marriage with the Dorning family will keep my chef from being unduly stupid where the girl is concerned.”
Now was not the time to inform Dorning that Rye’s reputation was undergoing one of its periodic whippings at the figurative cart’s tail, but that discussion would have to take place soon.
“I see your point,” Rye said, “though allowing Hannah to claim that connection might also make her more resented.”
“Stop it.” Jeanette shook her hand free from her husband’s grasp. “Both of you stop circling each other like tomcats in the stable yard. I have asked Miss Pearson to keep me apprised of Hannah’s progress and spoken to Jules Delacourt myself regarding my interest in this particular apprentice. He has assured me that he will do all in his power to see the girl well educated.”
And Jeanette, having little acquaintance with a Frenchman in a temper, would have been satisfied with those reassurances.
“In any case,” Rye said, “you extended a kindness to a member of my household, and I am grateful to you both.”
“You’re welcome,” Dorning said, the words anything but gracious. “Will you blow retreat now that you’ve done your duty? Scamper off to your club for recluses and reappear seven years hence to thank us again when Hannah’s apprenticeship is complete?”
“I have promised Jeanette I will not play least in sight again, Dorning, and I keep my word. To that end, I wanted to acquaint my sister with a family matter that might one day concern her.”
Jeanette passed her husband a knife that had been sitting atop a bound volume on the low table. The blade was designed