As expected, a visitor waited in the headmistress’s study. The Devil Man lounged in Madame Leblanc’s chair behind the fruitwood desk. Madame stood beside him rigidly, a bulwark of censure. Two items lay upon the spotless desk. A willow rod, and the book.

Typically, Daniel St. John barely glanced at her. He appeared a little peeved and very bored. She half expected him to yawn and pull out his snuff box.

He did not really look like a devil. She had given him that name as a young girl because of his eyes. Dark and intense, they were framed by eyebrows that peaked in vague points toward the ends. Those eyes could burn right into you if he paid attention.

Since he never did, she did not find them so frightening anymore.

His mouth was set in a straight, hard, full line, but then it always was. Even when he smiled, it only curved enough to suggest that whatever amused him was a private joke. Along with the eyes and chiselled face, it made him look cruel. Maybe he was. She wouldn’t know. Still, she suspected that women thought him very handsome, and maybe even found his harshness attractive. She had seen Madame Oiseau flush and fluster in his presence.

He was not as old as she had once thought. He had grown more youthful as she had matured. She realized now that he could not be more than thirty. That struck her as peculiar. He had been an adult her whole life, and should be older.

It was easy to forget how hard he could appear. Every year the months hazed over her memory. Seeing him now, she knew that her plan had been stupid. He would never take on more inconvenience. And she would be left here, to await Madame Oiseau’s vengeance.

“M’sieur has learned of your disgraceful behavior,” Madame Leblanc intoned. “He is shocked, as one would expect.”

He quirked one of his sardonic smiles at the description of his reaction. He tapped the book. “Is there an explanation?”

Madame Oiseau moved closer, a physical reminder of her threat. Madame Leblanc glared, daring her to make excuses. The Devil Man looked indifferent, as always. He wanted this to be done so he could be gone.

Diane made her choice. The safe, cowardly choice. “No explanation, m’sieur.”

He glanced up at her, suddenly attentive. It only lasted an instant. He sank back in the chair, and gestured impatiently to Madame.

The two women readied the chamber for punishment. A prie-de-dieu was dragged into the center of the room. A chair was pushed in front of it. Madame lifted the willow rod and motioned for the sinner to take the position.

The Devil Man just sat there, lost in his thoughts, gazing at the desk, ignoring the activity.

He was going to stay. Madame Leblanc had insisted that he witness it.