“No.”
“I may be as fortunate.”
The alert grey eyes glanced slowly over his graceful person, his beautiful face. “You may, Monsieur de Vauvenargues. At least, you are in good hands here. The house of de Clapiers has always been generous to us. You do not remember the Great Plague? I worked with your father then in Aix.”
Luc coloured and his eyes narrowed.
“I do not like to stay, my sister.”
She smiled.
“You think we are afraid, perhaps? Madame la Comtesse knew better. And where would you go, Monsieur?”
He was indeed at a loss. He shook his head, and her smile deepened.
“If I stay, my sister, I must work. You have sick here?”
“Yes, Monsieur.”