The Chevalier (Châteaux and Shadows) by Philippa Lodge Page B

earnestly.
    “Quite well, Marcel, thank you. And you?”
    The boy stood up straighter. “Father says I’m soon to go to the country to train with Uncle Dominique. I hope to be an officer in the army. Papa was a colonel!”
    “I know, Marcel. And a very good one, too.” Manu had to remember he had been only a few years older than this boy when he went to train with Dominique. So young.
    The boy beamed. A high-pitched voice bubbled from the alcove, and Marcel leaned his head in that direction, never breaking eye contact with Manu. “And may I present my brother and sister to you, Uncle Emmanuel?”
    “I believe I have met them before, Monsieur Marcel, though it has been a long time.”
    Marcel waved his hand like a magician, and a girl dragged a tiny boy out of the shadows. They both had their blond heads down, and their cheeks—what Manu could see of them—were rosy pink with blushes. As shy as their mother. He liked Hélène, but she wasn’t the type of lady who attracted him. The little boy’s thumb went into his mouth. The girl pulled it away.
    “Uncle Emmanuel, may I present Diane? She is only seven.”
    The girl curtseyed neatly, head down. Manu had to reach far, far down to take her hand to bow over it. If they were going to play at formality, then he was going to use his very best manners.
    “And Cédric.” The second boy had been named for his oldest uncle. “He is three, and he’s a little stupid.”
    The smaller boy’s head shot up, a look of shock on his round face. He punched his big brother in the chest before fleeing with a wail. Just in one glimpse of Cédric’s face, Manu could have sworn he was looking at a younger version of himself. How many times had Manu felt little and stupid compared to his bigger, brighter, more dashing siblings?
    Manu shook his head. Now he was being stupid. “He seems to have understood you, Marcel. He cannot be very stupid.”
    “Oh, he understands, but his letters sound wrong when he tries to speak.”
    “He is only three, you said?” Manu raised an eyebrow at the older boy, who looked down. “I seem to remember when you were three you had an adorable lisp and a precious stutter.”
    Adorable? Precious? Manu sounded like a nursemaid.
    Marcel scowled, too old to be remotely adorable. Manu wanted to grin. “I am going to see how Mademoiselle de Fouet is. I do not yet know if she is contagious, so I will come see you later.”
    He bowed to them, and they scurried off. The girl looked back over her shoulder and smiled tentatively. He nodded his head. He wondered briefly where the oldest sister, Ondine, was. She was probably too grown up at twelve or thirteen to hide in alcoves and scamper around the house.
    He tapped on Mademoiselle de Fouet’s bedchamber door, and it was immediately opened by Marie. Her eyes were sleepy, but she smiled as she curtsied to Manu.
    “Is Mademoiselle de Fouet better?”
    “She’s awake, Monsieur, but not up yet.”
    “I am not up yet because they are holding me down, Monsieur Emmanuel.”
    He wasn’t sure if it was weakness or a plea he heard in her voice. Or humor.
    “May I step in just far enough to see you, Mademoiselle?”
    Mademoiselle de Fouet was propped on a mountain of pillows, her face as white as the pillowcases. He bowed. If he could be formal with his nephews and niece, he could show politesse to a lady.
    “Are you well, Mademoiselle?”
    She blinked sunken, glassy eyes. “Much better, Monsieur. When do we leave for Versailles?”
    “Ah. You heard my mother left?”
    “I was confused this morning when Marie told me where we are. Especially as Madame le Colonel is pregnant and won’t visit me in case my illness is dangerous. Not a very effective chaperone.”
    “She sleeps in the next room over, so she can listen for trouble.” Manu smiled at Mademoiselle de Fouet’s frustrated expression. He wanted to hold her hand and reassure her, but crossing the room to her would lack propriety. “And the answer is: if