“The French captain Vincent Surcouf. The man who tortured and killed my crew, and who took a very close friend of mine—an old man—as prisoner. If you’ll permit me, sir; what your cousin’s account didn’t mention is that before Fernsby was pitched into the Atlantic, he was soundly beaten. Captain Surcouf dealt the beating himself; all the while demanding information about a missing French princess under the care of the British royal family. Your cousin’s uniform identified him as a military officer, and his accent and manners denoted that of a gentleman; because of these, Surcouf believed Fernsby might actually know something about the girl. Naturally James”—Luke cleared his throat—“naturallyLord Fernsbyhad never heard of Princess Danielle d’Orleans. She appears to have been largely forgotten by everyone, as you’ve said. Except for this French captain. Surcouf’s preoccupation with locating and making her his wife bordered on obsession.”
“Why would this French captain want her so badly?” Prince George wondered.
“According to my research, his family owns a crumbling castle in France, and her dowry includes the lands adjacent to it. If he were to marry her, his holdings would quadruple.”
“It’s always the dowry, isn’t it? Very well, a French princess for the Cornish hero. So be it. We’ve already approved the request, as you may have been told. But I appreciate your forthrightness.”
“Thank you, Highness,” Luke said. His heart had begun to pound. It was happening. They would give her to him.
“Pray,” wondered the prince, “what know you of the girl, Bannock—besides the contents of her dowry? Have you seen her or spoken to her?”
“No, Highness,” Luke admitted carefully. “She has been very well hidden. I know almost nothing of her personally.”
“Well hidden, indeed. Certainly she’d been long forgotten by me, as I’ve said. Apparently she was adopted by two members of staff and hasn’t been heard from since. I think it’s safe to say no one here in St. James’s will miss the girl if you spirit her away. However, as rewards go, it’s not a conventional request, is it?”
Luke went still. And now, he thought, there would be some condition or obligation.
“Will you have something else, Captain?” asked Prince George. “We can hardly tell the public that we’ve rewarded our national hero with a minor French princess. We are, as you know, at war with France. I entreat you to name asecondreward. Something we can report in the papers—a peerage, some payment, a new boat perhaps?”
Luke hesitated. Not a condition—a second gift. His breath returned. His mind spun. It never occurred to him to ask for more than to marry a bloody princess.
“Your generosity abounds, Highness,” Luke managed. Considering that his first request had been granted easily enough, he doubled down and asked for the other thing he truly wanted. “If it pleases you, Highness, could I be granted tactical support for a rescue mission to recover a crewman who was taken captive the night of the attack?”
“Taken captive you say?” asked the prince. “An English serviceman?”
And here was the problem. Luke had made this same request of the War Office and received the same reply.
“No, Highness,” Luke said. “An old man in my employ.” Linus Welty was so much more than Luke’s crewman, but Prince George would not care about surrogate fathers, nor Luke’s wretched boyhood before he’d met Linus, nor their years of friendship.
“Held captive where?” asked the prince.
“In a castle dungeon, Highness. In the Hauts-de-France region of Northern France.”
The prince was shaking his head. “This is a more complicated request. I’ve overstepped before with my strategic military suggestions, and it is unwise, at the moment, for me to rattle chains at the War Office. Not to mention, soldiers and war provisions are stretched very thin at this phase of the war. Can you say for certain that this crewman is still alive, Bannock? In this French dungeon?”
“I do believe him to be alive,” Luke said. But the prince had already made up his mind. Luke needn’t explain that he’d been endeavoring to beg, barter, or steal Linus Welty from Surcouf’s dungeon for the better part of the year. If Linus was dead, the game would be over; and the Frenchman relished the game. Surcouf loved watching Luke offer more and more gold, hoping to hit a ransom that would win his friend’s release.
If Luke acquired the princess, however, gold would be unnecessary. If he had the princess, he would possess the thing that Surcouf wanted most.
Andthatwas all that mattered about earning this reward.
“I cannot grant you military support, Captain,” the prince was saying, “but I can offer you this: What of a piece of property?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“A house and lands, Bannock,” said the prince. “To ease the way with this princess you so desire.”
Luke stared at him, hoping to keep the ingratitude off of his face. He was a sea captain. He lived only to recover his friend and avenge his crew. These were his sole motivations. He rarely slept for wanting these two things. What care had he for a house and lands?
The prince gave a knowing smile. “Allow me to give you a bit of unsolicited advice, Captain. Princesses, even in exile, can be a trial. I myself am forced to wrangle numerous princesses with tedious regularity. I’ve copious sisters, aunts, and potential wives who bear this title. You’ll thank yourself for arranging some sanctuary for the girl.”
“Sanctuary?” Luke asked.
“A villa, a castle—a tower in particular would be very fitting for an exiled princess, I think.” The prince chuckled at his joke.
“I assume,” the prince went on, “that her own dowered land in France holds no appeal for you?”
“I want no part of life in France, Highness.”
