“So when did he raise the topic of the betrothal?” he asked.
A shrug. “Not for several wretched days.”
“What excuse did he give for calling to Guernsey if he waited days to mention the betrothal?”
“He reminded me of the great friendship between our two families,” she said. “He said he wouldn’t hear of departing until he’d gained an introduction to my father. He gave us a little explanation of his inheritance of the d’Orleans title—how his cousin Gabriel had been missing these great many years and was presumed dead.”
“He used these words?” confirmed Gabriel. “Missing and presumed dead?”
“That is what he said,” she answered carefully, watching him. “And then on the third day, he approached me alone in the drawing room. He told me that, as the new prince, he was also the proud owner of everything in the d’Orleans estate—includingthe decades-old betrothal that bound the firstborn daughter of the Earl of Amhurst to the current prince. He said it was a union that had happened time and again down through the centuries—a tradition of the two families—and now it was our turn, thatwewould marry.”
“He demanded it,” guessed Gabriel. “And you fought?”
“Well, the first time he raised it, we were both perfectly... civil, I suppose you’d say. He believed me to be under his charming spell and dazzled by his title. He also mistook me for someone who is easy to command. I stammered out something about having no wish to marry. He replied that I had no choice in the matter, that I should prepare myself—that we should allprepare ourselvesfor sweeping changes at Winscombe.
“After he’d said it, I remember I sat alone in the drawing room and sort of... absorbed my own shock. You’ve heard of someone screaming into their pillow? This moment was like screaming into a pillow. It was far worse than the dog attack that happened later, worse than the temper fit when he ripped away the necklace. We’d foolishly allowed ourselves to be vulnerable. We have a beautiful estate but little money. Our father is too ill to advocate for us. But we got onso happily in Guernsey. Our family is well-liked and our neighbors are decent and respectful. No one took advantage. Until your cousin.”
“But the violence,” Gabriel pressed, “when did he drop the pretense and begin to bully you?”
“Ah yes, the dogs,” she said. “Please believe me when I say I had no intention of trotting out my battle scars.”
“I’ve known great violence in my life, unfortunately. My own father was executed. Before that, our family was terrorized.”
“Yes,” she said, watching him. He’d just revealed himself. She knew it, and he knew it. His identity was proven. She said nothing. She waited.
Gabriel forged on, trying to remember his point. “My early exposure to mindless violence has made me a student of that moment.”
“Moment?”
“The tipping point where civil debate turns to aggression.”
“Oh right,” she said. “I don’t suppose I’ve thought of it in those terms. Every minute of his visit was so very wretched. Never did Maurice engage in ‘civil debate.’ He’s very underhanded about doling out punishments. For example, he didn’t set his dog on me outright; the dog attacked, and he refused to call it off. He didn’t strangle me, he fingered my necklace and then pulled so hard, it snapped. Both incidents could be explained away as accidents unless a witness happened to be there to see it.”
“I’m sorry for what you’ve suffered, Lady Ryan,” he told her—the truth. Hewassorry. He lived a solitary life, but he understood injustice and vulnerabilityand abuse. Injustice and vulnerability and abuse were the reasons for his isolation.
Not for the first time, he thought of asking her to stay here, in the forest, with him—to stay hidden and safe from the threat of Maurice, or the burden of managing an old estate and an infirm parent. But of course her troubles were shared among sisters, and love for her home was obvious. She didn’t want to hide away in the forest with him. She didn’t even know him. And forest life was not easy. Even Samuel’s sons—twin boys who’d been raised to love the forest and horses—had, in the end, chosen a different life. Hiding was not the answer for everyone.
“AndI’msorry I’ve thrust our crisis on you,” she said. “I’m sorry to have opened your desk and found out your real name and forced you to admit it. Your privacy and solitude are priorities, clearly. What I’ve done to you resembles Maurice’s crimes against me—we both turned up, claimed to beowedsomething, and waved proof in everyone’s faces. I see the unfairness of it. I am loathe to draw anyone else into our nightmare, but if I could just compel you tochallengethis person.”
“I...can’t,” Gabriel told her.
She stared at him, her face creased with concern. “But,why not? If I must beg you, I will.”
“Please don’t,” he whispered harshly. “Look, I will try to help you in some way. I cannot go myself, but I have money. You may use it to hire lawyers.”
“I don’t want tofightthe imposter; I want him gone. Why would I travel all the way here, risk all the dangers of the forest, only tofind youand then hire a lawyer?” Her voice was filled with tears.
“You’re not hearing, me, Lady Marianne. I cannot—”
“Please donotrefer to me as ‘Lady Marianne.’ That is whathecalls me. I amRyan. Lady Ryan if you must, but ‘Lady Marianne’ is the helpless woman betrothed to a terrible stranger and that isnot me.”
He swallowed. “Lady Ryan, will you listen?”
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and brushed away tears.
“You’re exhausted,” he told her. “You’ve been through a storm, and an ambush, and were lost in the wood. I have misrepresented myself to you, and I can imagine the frustration of it.”
“I’m not one of your horses,” she said. “I needn’t be soothed into docility. I’m perfectly docile. Icanaccept that you won’t do it—I can—but I should like to know why. My sisters will want to know.I want to know.”
