“Are you okay?” Andrea asked as she noticed my breathing.

“Never done well in confined spaces,” I admitted and tried to force a grin. “Nor on boats. But I’m guessing exposure therapy is my only choice right now.”

She widened her eyes. “Just be glad you aren’t in crew quarters stacked like a sardine on a bunk in which you can’t sit fully upright. And you have your own head.”

“Head?”

“Bathroom.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

She rested a hand on my arm. “You didn’t. Relax. And I’ll have to tell you the story of Mrs. P when we get our night off if it coincides. But my hope is Mr. P will tell you himself when he goes over what’s expected of you.”

I nodded. “Can I ask though, how long has it been since she died?”

Andrea glanced over her shoulder toward the door and back to me. “Just shy of two years. That’s really all I can say. But the family—what’s left of it—they need healing. And this attempt to get back out to sea and spend some time together is part of it. I’m sure you know how the press treats Mr. P, like some sort of tragic prince. That makes Dauphine the poor little lonely heiress. It also makes her a target for unscrupulous types. You’ll be her nanny, but also you’ll never let her out of your sight.”

A chill skidded over my arms. “You mean she’s a target for, like, kidnapping?”

Andrea nodded.

“Yikes. That’s a little above my pay grade, don’t you think?”

“You just have to be another set of eyes and another hand to hold when you all are out and about. Evan was in the Royal Marines and has undertaken bodyguard training.” Her eyes flashed as she said it, and it occurred to me Andrea might have a crush on the affable driver who was clearly a lot more than he looked.

“So he has lots of different roles here,” I said, impressed.

“He’s paid well for it, trust me. And we all go above and beyond and do whatever it takes to keep things running smoothly. We really respect Monsieur Pascale.” I didn’t mistake the advice for me in her simple statement. But I’d never been one to do the bare minimum or shirk responsibility. It was probably why I’d gotten so far ahead at work before I’d crashed into my glass ceiling.

“And I guess we’re all hoping that with you here, Dauphine may be a little less lonely, and maybe Mr. P will start to relax a little bit. It’s been bleak, I’ll tell you. It’ll be a bit different from your last gig, I’m sure.”