“The rescue,” she said.
“The swim.”
She chuckled. “Your favorite joke.”
“It’s very reliable.”
He was clever; she could acknowledge this. He was handsome and clever and strong, just as Amelia had said.And also an outlaw.Which no one had bothered to mention until now.
“That cousin is Lord Fernsby, by the way. In case this isn’t clear. He’s become a friend—or rather, he’s become someone who follows me about. Is that a friend? He believes he owes me a sort of life debt.”
“A life debt,” she repeated, still trying to understand why a known outlaw was given a house and a wife—andher. Was it an honor, she wondered, to be betrothed to a smuggler? If her parents knew, would they oppose the match?
“It was a lie of omission, I suppose,” he said, “for you to believe that I’m a naval officer. The news reports have described me as a patriot. I prefer accuracy over zeal, but I don’t control what the scribblers print. To you, I should have said something from the start.”
Dani narrowed her eyes, searching for signs of honesty on his face. How did one identify honesty in a man she did not know? He’d revealed so much—it was hardly everything she wanted, but the things he’d just shared were not insignificant.
“So when you ask why the prince gave me this house as reward for my bravery,” he said, “I think his goal was to dissuade me from my former life of crime. I am to be retrained as a gentleman farmer. The house and lands were the means.”
“And the wife?”
“The incentive,” he said, looking at her. “And a sort of guide?”
Incentive.The word hooked into her heart and gently tugged.A guide?If ever there was a siren’s song to someone like Dani—someone who wanted only to share, and include, and help—it was this.
She began to pace anew. She prowled the room, skimming her hand over the draped furniture. Could Eastwell Park capture the heart and imagination of a new landowner if the man applied himself? Yes, of course. What if he was a former smuggler? Did Captain Bannock intend to stop smuggling? Did hewantto farm and work the land and rescue Ivy Hill? None of this had been discussed.
“I was always going to tell you,” he added quietly. “This sounds like too little, too late, I’m sure. But before we entered into any sort of negotiation, I was going to tell you.”
And that’s another thing,she thought, still pacing,the emphasis on negotiating.
There were fifty things she should be asking him now, but her mind kept returning to the lawlessness. This man was a criminal. He didn’t seem like a criminal. Did he also seem like a gentleman? She could not say. She did not know any proper gentlemen. Mr. Stinchcomb was, she supposed, a gentleman. If nothing else, he was rich. And she would never marry a man like Stinchcomb, not for any mansion in the world. She would flee Mr. Stinchcomb—literally, she would pick up her skirts and run away to avoid him. But she had not fled from Captain Bannock. She’d done the opposite. And with less information. After knowing him for all of a day.
Even now she wasn’t marching from this salon, down the corridor, and out the front door. Instead, she was circling the room like a dove with an olive branch, looking for a safe place to light.
The truth was, marriage to a smuggler—tothissmuggler—did not feel impossible. She did notrelishthe notion; it confused her and taxed her, but she could think of many qualities she could never abide, and Captain Bannock possessed none of them. He was not mean-spirited or overbearing; he was not boring or stupid or silly. He did not make her feel small, not small-minded nor unimportant. Was this out of character for a known criminal? She could not say. And what of all the things he was? Handsome. Exciting. Clever. Capable, obviously. She thought of how he’d challenged Giles Stinchcomb in the street. Imposing. He took her seriously and treated her like an adult woman with valid motivations and dreams.
She came to the library door and stopped walking, covering her face with her hands. There was so much to consider, and she would not be rushed. She would not squeeze onto tiny benches and speak to his profile. She must gather her thoughts and ask what she wanted to know. If he wanted to negotiate—fine. First, she would interrogate.
She swallowed hard, uncovered her face, and peered into the library. The dark room now glowed orange with the light of a roaring fire. She could see the tops of the bookshelves, so high, only a ladder could reach. The floor was stacked with the baron’s old journals and newspapers. The drape had been pulled from a large leather divan, emerald green, tufted with brass grommets. Of course there would be a green divan. Everything at Eastwell Park was fine and beautiful and distinctive.
“Our negotiation, Miss Allard? You do remember?” Captain Bannock came to stand behind her.
Dani frowned. He was rushing her. She glanced over her shoulder, gave a dismissive shake of her head, and disappeared into the library.
Damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn—bloody, bleeding hell.Damn.
There were four things this woman should accept in order for Luke to rescue Linus Welty.
First, she needed to understand that Eastwell Park could be hers. Fine, he’d managed that—well, he’d managed part of that. She knew the prize, not the terms.
Second, she needed to understand that she was a bloody French princess. Failure. He’d not revealed this.
Third, she should know the betrothal happened because Luke required a French princess—requiredher—to rescue his friend. Another failure.
Finally, she should know—and accept—her active role in the rescue of Linus Welty. Third unsaid thing.
Every other bloody thing he might tell her—his unknown mother, his absent father, his life as a smuggler—was unnecessary.
